


The Conspiracy of Ice and Fire

by aliasme (vsvera), vsvera



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen King, Jon has dragons, King Jon Snow, M/M, Minor Character Death, R Plus L Equals J, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Robb Lives, Scheming Ned Stark, Scheming Oberyn, Scheming Varys, Slow Build, The Free Folk, direwolves actually do something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2019-11-23 06:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 516,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18148493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vsvera/pseuds/aliasme, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vsvera/pseuds/vsvera
Summary: What if the three members of the Kingsguard who stayed at the Tower of Joy knew of Ned Stark's search for his sister.  What if they were able to meet him in secret and concoct a plan to keep the new-born King safe until he could reclaim his rightful throne.While Jon (Aegon Targaryen) grows up, a small group secretly prepares Westeros for the restoration of the Targaryen dynasty.This is a Jon-centric story where he claims his birthright and has dragons.  Daenerys will also be different from canon.  She will not conquer  part of Essos.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Other relationship tags will be added later.  
> This is my first story in this fandom so I will start of by stating the obvious: I do not own any of the characters, nor did I invent any part of GRRM's beautiful world. I'm simply bold enough to loan them for a time.  
> Any anachronisms or geographical inconsistencies will be explained as artistic license :-)  
> Ever since chapter 17, I have a wonderful beta. Ravenousreadr is doing a fantastic job. Still, I take full responsibility for any errors or plot-holes you might find since I am the one who created them in the first place.

**Prologue**

The road ahead looked as desolate as the previous days. Dry warm winds and a relentless sun in a cloudless sky didn’t help matters. Ned loosened his tunic some more and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He’d never been so far south. ‘ _Starks don’t thrive in the South_ ’, he thought again. 

He had forsworn his grey/white armor and leather attire several sennights ago and wore only a white linen tunic which was soaked through at the waist where his sword belt kept the material in place. 

He examined the area and saw nothing but sand, stones and dry bushes. How he longed for the northern forests with large green trees or even better, a small brook or a stream. He sighed and made an effort to right himself on his horse.

When he looked behind him, his loyal entourage was not faring any better. At first glance, the small group he’d handpicked to accompany him on this quest looked like a ragtag band of misfits. Only if you looked closer and were familiar with the northern sigils you would know that he was accompanied by three lords of the North.

First up were Lord Umber or “the Greatjon” the large man proudly displaying the umber sigil of a roaring giant and Lord Howland Reed recognizable by his sigil of a black lizard-lion on grey-green. They rode side by side and were closely followed by lord Benton Glover marked by the flashy scarlet blazon with a silver mailed fist on his breastplate. Behind them rode the rest of his entourage wearing the uniform of the Stark houseguard.

It was a silent procession. Everyone looked sweaty and miserable. ‘ _Perhaps I’ve been pushing us too hard_ ’, Ned mused. According to the young boy they had picked up at the previous inn, it would be still a while before they reached a small village with an inn that could provide a hearty meal and shelter for the night. Arthur, the young boy, had agreed to provide his services as a temporary guide in return for protection during his travels to meet up with his sister who lived further south.

Ned sighed once more and thought of his wife, Catelyn formerly of House Tully. How was the lady of Winterfell faring at Riverrun, a pregnant lady Stark who had not laid eyes on her new home yet? It had been a year since their hasty marriage and bedding. Before setting out on this quest, he had received word that Catelyn had birthed a healthy son. _‘The Gods have truly blessed us.’_

Ned looked up to the heavens and his mood lightened a bit. The proud Lady Catelyn of House Tully, daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands had been betrothed to his elder brother but after his untimely death at the hands of the Mad King, Ned had had to step in to form the necessary alliance with the Riverlands. It was all masterminded by Jon Arryn, a firm alliance between the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Stormlands by intermarriages.

Ned had been left no choice. His dream to share a simple life with the noble lady he had met at the tourney of Harrenhal, living with her in a small keep as loyal bannerman to his elder brother had been irrevocably shattered. Instead he got a political marriage, the responsibility for the entire North and a cool proud stranger in his bed the night before he left for war. The alliances were secured. Everyone had done their part, except for Lyanna. It all had started with Lyanna.

Finally they had found a trail. Hope had come in the form of an anonymous message stating she was in Dorne. A message he believed to be true because there was a post scriptum in her hand. It was hardly legible but he recognized her writing all the same. It was her hand that had written the words: _“I need help, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Please come.”_

He was so conflicted when thinking of Lyanna, his favorite sibling with her fate unknown. Was she to be envied since she was the only one who had escaped a political marriage? Or was she to be pitied because she had been separated from their pack, and a lone wolf is always in danger. He didn’t believe the stories of her kidnapping.

It would have been a difficult thing to successfully kidnap her against her will. And even then, she would have found a way to escape or at least get a message through to someone. Lyanna was resourceful, brave, intelligent and a fighter. No, Ned was convinced she had either eloped with Rhaegar or someone had helped her escape Harrenhal to prevent her marriage with Robert Baratheon, his former best friend.

However, now the country was in chaos after the Rebellion. The routes were dangerous and Rhaegar was dead. The newly self proclaimed King Robert, ‘King by conquest and blood’ had not yet had time to restore order in his realm. What had happened to her? Where and why was she hiding in Dorne of all places?

His musings were interrupted when the young boy, Arthur called for his attention. He pointed towards a dark spot in the distance. “Can you see that Lord Stark? We’re just a few miles out. I can see the main building of the village on that small rise. Can you see it?”

Ned smiled at the boy and turned his head towards his companions. “We’re almost there guys, I cannot speak for you all, but I for one am looking forward to a nice meal and a roof over our heads tonight.” 

A lot of “ayes” greeted him back. The small company seemed revived and picked up the pace.

The inn was large enough to provide accommodations for their entire party and had adequate room to stable their horses. The common room of the inn was mostly empty. Only two tables were occupied by suntanned southerners. Ned acknowledged them with a short nod and headed for the opposite area which contained large tables to seat his entire group. In no time they were enjoying a wholesome meal and soon enough full bellies and Dornish wine had most of the men fighting to keep awake. One by one they drifted upstairs glad to be able to sleep in a real bed for once.

Ned and Lord Howland Reed were the only ones still at the table. In the corner Arthur, their young guide had found an acquaintance and was playing cyvasse.

Ned and Howland were talking strategies. The message that had begged him to come to this part of Dorne was not all that clear. They had almost reached the area stipulated in the scroll. They were discussing what to do now? 

Would it be safe to start asking around whether anyone had seen a northern looking woman? Their party stood out like a sore thumb. Would people want to help them, would they put Lyanna in jeopardy when they openly declared their intentions? 

Probably not a good idea. Lyanna was one of the instigators of the Rebellion if you would believe all the stories being told in Westeros. Either she was a selfish seductress who was guilty of starting a war killing thousands of good men, or she was an innocent victim being kidnapped and raped by another evil Targaryen.

They were almost out of options. Ned had hoped to receive another clue along the way, he had been screening each and everyone since crossing the Dorne borders, but as of yet nothing had happened. Too tired for to come up with new ideas, the pair of them decided to take a stroll outside and check on the horses before retiring. 

Ned was just about to enter the stables when he felt a large presence behind him. He automatically gripped his sword and saw Howland mimic his gesture. Next thing he noticed was the young boy Arthur running up to him. 

“Lord Stark! Lord Stark, may I present my friend to you please?”

Ned turned around and saw a large man holding up his two hands as if surrendering.

“I come in peace Lord Stark. Please can we talk?”

Ned looked the man over, he seemed familiar but Ned couldn’t place him. Ned with his twenty namedays was already a hardened warrior, a war veteran. The other man however had probably ten years on him and stood half a head taller, where Ned was still lanky the man’s muscles were more defined. He looked like a dangerous opponent. Howland Reed moved to stand beside Ned, ready to protect his Lord.

Ned straightened himself up trying to look taller and answered the stranger with as much authority as he could muster:  
“I reckon young Arthur told you my name. I however am not that lucky. Please identify yourself my lord.”

A hint of a smile appeared on the taller man’s face. “Names are not important," he countered roughly. “Just know that I mean you no harm. We need to talk. We can help each other. You can call me White.” 

Ned glanced at Howland. The name ”White” didn’t help him any further, it didn’t strike him as his truthful name anyhow. There was still the niggling thought that he knew the man from somewhere. 

“Ok, Lord White,” he decided, “I’m listening.”

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable,” the man uttered while walking in the direction of a secluded spot behind the stables, “this could take a while”. 

Ned and Howland complied.

***

The next morning, a well rested group was noisily breaking their fast in the common room as Ned joined them. He had to restrain himself. ‘ _First eat in peace_ ,’ he told himself. 

He knew there would be upheaval after his communication. He joined his companions at the table and tried to enjoy his meal hearing the end of a bawdy tale that the Greatjon was telling. When the tale reached its hilarious end the men showed their appreciation by stamping and laughing, Ned knew he could wait no longer. He had to tell them now before anyone left the table. 

He braced himself. He needed to be strong to inform them that their quest was over. As far as they would know, they had failed. They would be bringing Lyanna’s body home to be buried. The other news had to stay hidden at all cost. He had to adhere to the plan they had put together yesterday night. There was a silver lining for his men however. They would be going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short prologue to start, more like a teaser really.  
> Next up: Ned returns to Winterfell and something happens in Dorne.


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned comes home with his wife and heir. Benjen and Ned exchange information.  
> In Dorne, a package arrives. Oberyn is delighted, Doran not as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I relented and put up some relationship tags. Not all of them, I still want to keep you guessing a bit. The rest of them will be added as the story unfolds.  
> I want to make clear however that although the tags speak of “Jon Snow”, Jon will go by a different last name, a trueborn name, a temporary alias to keep him safe. His real name will be Aegon Targaryen. I didn’t want Jon to grow up with the bastard stigma weighing him down. I need an assertive protagonist.  
> 

It was raining the day Ned finally caught his first glance of Winterfell. Slowly but surely each detail of the imposing structure came into focus: the large towers, the main gate, the grey direwolf banners. ‘Was it his imagination or were there more banners than usual decorating the stronghold?’

Ned could just picture the scenes going on inside the castle at the moment. Everyone would be dropping what they were doing and hurrying into the courtyard to form a greeting line as was the custom. They all knew that this time it would be their new Lord at the gates with his bride and recently born heir. So he guessed the courtyard would be filled to the brim, with just enough place left to accommodate their caravan.

He was not wrong. A large crowd of nobles and servants stood lined up inside the courtyard. His eyes immediately found the solemn figure of his younger brother. He was flanked by Maester Luwin, Rodrik Cassel, the Greatjon, Maege Mormont and Rickard Karstark. It was still a strange concept that they were all subservient to him now. Ned’s eyes roved further over the crowd. He recognized a lot of the Stark household but also saw plenty of new faces. He dismounted.  
A stable boy ran forward and made clumsy bow. The lad stammered “Welcome home My Lord” and led the horse away. Ned released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He was home.

Feeling calmer now, Ned went over to the spot where the wheelhouse had stopped. He would greet everyone with his southern bride at his side, immediately solidifying her position to the Northern Lords and their household. The soft murmuring of the crowd stopped, everyone’s eyes were now trained on the figures emerging from the wheelhouse. 

They had been waiting for this moment for some time. Although the Rebellion had ended several moons ago and life in the North had resumed, at Winterfell everyone had still had been waiting for the young Lord and his family to come home.  
Not only had Lord Stark journeyed to the other end of Westeros to find his poor sister who now was buried in the crypt, he had also been delayed for several more sennights at Riverrun. Ned had stayed at his wife’s ancestral home with his good family until his son, Robb, was strong enough to make the trip home.

Lady Catelyn accepted her husband’s helping hand. She stepped out into the courtyard and caught the first glimpses of her new home. She was not impressed. Though Winterfell was a large structure with several buildings and imposing towers, it lacked the sophistication of the buildings in the South. Everything looked robust, well kept, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it was that she found wanting, perhaps the absence of colour? Grey was the dominant colour, the only exception being the wooden outer buildings but those were a dreary dark brown. She would think on it some more later.

Ned still holding her hand led her towards the assembled crowd who were all looking at her with awe and apprehension. ‘She would be their Lady’, she realized. ‘They would have to follow her command.’ Catelyn make sure to pay attention so as to remember as much names as possible. She plastered a smile on her face and readied herself to issue some polite greetings as expected of the well-bred Lady of Winterfell .

She watched Benjen pull Ned into a firm hug.  
“Welcome home, brother. Winterfell is yours”, Benjen greeted and reluctantly released his hold on his elder brother.  
“Glad to be finally home,” Ned smiled. He looked his brother over. “All is well?”  
“All is as well as can be”, Benjen responded seriously his eyes relaying a myriad of feelings. “We will talk later?”  
“As soon as I can get myself free from all this, I’ll send for you. I’m eager to talk as well”, was Ned’s hushed reply. He tried to get some clues from his brother’s body language. He was keen to know all the details of his brother’s endeavours but knew he needed to be patient a bit longer.

Benjen turned towards Catelyn and bowed. “Well met once more good sister. You look as beautiful as ever. Let me be the first to welcome you to Winterfell and wish you a prosperous life here in the North.” 

Catelyn curtsied. “Thank you Lord Stark. That is our hope as well.” She looked over to Ned who smiled reassuringly at her. 

Her husband turned around, now facing the wet nurse who was holding his son and gestured her to approach. He gently took the baby from her hands and lifted the little bundle into the air for all to see.  
“Good people of the North”, his voice boomed over the courtyard, “Let me present to you my firstborn son and heir, Robb Stark, the future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”  
A loud cheer welled up from the crowd. 

Everyone was smiling and Catelyn felt a bit of warmth welling up in her chest for the first time since entering the courtyard. ‘She had done this. She had gifted the North with a new generation. She would get these rugged, stern Northmen to accept the southern bride of their Lord. She would show them she was worthy.’ 

“Let me introduce you to some of my most trusted bannermen, my Lady. “ 

Catelyn had some trouble taking her eyes of her son who was still sleeping through all the noise and commotion. Ned had repositioned Robb firmly against his body, his big arms creating a nest that shielded the small baby from the Northern winds. He represented the perfect picture of a proud and caring father. With renewed confidence she focussed her attention back to her duties and followed her husband ready to meet the noble lords waiting patiently in the receiving line and put her formal education to good use. Her cheeks were stiff from smiling when introductions were finally over and Ned led her into the keep.

***

Finally alone, Catelyn sat on the large bed in her new quarters. The handmaid had just finished her duties and had given her new Lady some welcome privacy. She took the opportunity to evaluate her first moments in her new home. The service as of yet had been impeccable. Several young girls had worked quietly and efficiently together. Her bath had quickly been filled, the temperature of the water just as she liked it. When the water had cooled, Catelyn had denied the softly uttered suggestion of her handmaid to add more hot water. The girl had helped her step out of her bath and had willingly obeyed her every demand. Catelyn’s first impression of the Stark household was positive. Winterfell seemed like a well-organized community. 

The temperature of the room had been a pleasant surprise. Ned, she remembered, had explained to her previously that Winterfell was built on hot springs and that pipes with warm water flowing through them were embedded in the walls of the large keep. At least it would not be so cold inside. 

Although it was still summer, the last few days on the road she had gratefully made use of the warm cloak that Ned had put around her shoulders during their wedding ceremony. The heavy furs on the collar had seemed a bit much to her at the time but she had come to appreciate its usefulness.  
She made a mental note to make the necessary adjustments to the rest of her wardrobe as soon as possible.

When she had left the little antechamber that was her new bathroom to enter the bedroom once more, the maids had almost finished unpacking her things. Her personal toiletries were displayed on a small cabinet adorned with a large mirror. A cosy looking seat stood next to it. She ignored it in favour of the bed, the bed she would probably share with Ned tonight.

Ned was a good husband, solemn, respectful, rather good looking in his Northern way but boring. They had been married for more than a year now but circumstances had prevented them from hardly spending any time together. 

It had been a disappointment to her when she had learned how different from Brandon he actually was. Catelyn had been infatuated with Brandon at first sight. His larger than life personality had attracted her immediately. When Brandon was present, everyone flocked to him. He was the center of focus at every gathering. All the ladies’ eyes followed him longingly. Brandon had been a catch. 

Back then, she had barely noticed that he had two younger brothers. Even now, after several moons spent together, she hardly knew Ned. They were the joint parents of a little boy but the father of her child was still a stranger to her. ‘Well, she would try to make a life here. Family, Duty, Honour were the words of House Tully. She would do her duty to her new family.’

 

***

Ned entered his chambers. It was almost dinnertime. Just enough time to refresh himself and escort his new wife to the great hall where they would dine in large company. His talk with Benjen would still have to wait.  
After showing his wife her new quarters, Ned had been accosted by Maester Luwin. They had isolated themselves in his solar and had sifted through the numerous scrolls that had not been forwarded to Riverrun. A few of them were still unopened in adherence to the strict rules Ned had instigated. 

‘Benjen has come through’, Ned thought. His brothers had been charged to instruct the Maester how to decode the wax seals on the scrolls in order to know which ones he was allowed to open and which ones were for the eyes of the Warden of the North only.  
Ned trusted Maester Luwin implicitly. However, he had wanted to convey the political situation to Maester Luwin in person.  
They had to tread carefully. Everyone involved would be in danger. In the eyes of the realm, everyone in the know would be branded a traitor to King Robert. If the wrong person got wind of their actions, their lives would be forfeit. 

The most pressing business having been handled, Maester Luwin had left the solar and had gone to his quarters to carry out Lord Stark’s orders. They had agreed to reconvene the next day to tackle the less urgent matters.

Entering his bedroom, Ned immediately took steps to secure the still unopened scrolls. He pulled the wolfskin rug that decorated the floor at to foot end of his bed away from its current place and lifted a large stone to reveal a hollow space below floor level. He placed the messages inside the secret hideout. It was the safest place he could think of.  
‘No time to read them now, I will retrieve them later before my talk with Benjen’, he promised himself. He put the stone and the rug back into their original position and dropped into the nearest chair. ‘Thank the Gods. I’m finally back in my beloved Winterfell’. 

Life at Riverrun had not been easy for him. At home, he knew how everything was supposed to go. But in the South, there were all kinds of habits and niceties that were foreign to him. People talked but hardly said anything meaningful and when they finally did, they played around with their words in such a way that Ned was often uncertain of their real intent.

He had felt adrift in a strange land instead of being relaxed while surrounded by family.  
His new wife had had her own routines and had always been occupied either with their new born son or with some other matter that ladies apparently attended to. He had been trying to keep busy and had made an effort to get along with his good father and good brother but it did not come easy to him. 

It had all been a struggle and he had counted the days until he could be in his beloved North again, surrounded by his loyal bannermen. The lords of the North could be stubborn and difficult, but at least they spoke his language and didn’t play stupid word games. 

‘Winterfell is my home. Here I have purpose, here I can make an impact and my people need me.’ For the first time in years Ned felt he was exactly were he was supposed to be. He knew he would be extremely busy the coming moons but looked forward to it. 

He would be putting things in his Kingdom back in order and make plans to preparing the North for the coming Winter. ‘Yes, that is my birthright. It may still be summer now but I know winter is coming’, Ned recited the Stark words to himself. Perhaps I will even have to prepare enough provisions to survive a war’, he sighed, ‘I will need to make plans for more contingencies than ever before’. Nevertheless, Ned relished the busy period ahead.  
‘Southerners can’t grasp that. They are spoiled and have grown soft. My wife will have difficulty to adapt. I will have to help her.’ 

‘His wife’, Ned contemplated his predicament. ‘How do you get to know someone better when you hardly get to see her and you haven’t the faintest idea how she fills her days?’  
At Riverrun, her body had still been recuperating from the birth and she had preferred to sleep alone in her own rooms. The only time they spent together was often nothing more than a short, formal meeting after dinner.  
She would come to his bedroom, still fully dressed and they would talk some, but not much more would be said to each other except some polite inquiries into their respective days. Still, she would always tell him something new about his son. Much too soon to his liking, she would request permission to retire. She would then leave him with a dutiful kiss on his cheek and disappear swiftly into her own bedroom.

‘Another strange habit’, Ned had thought, ‘one that I will change now we’re home. I will make sure I visit her chambers. She will have nowhere to retreat to.’ 

After their first rather clumsily bedding on their wedding night shortly before he had to leave for war, things were at a standstill. Ned hoped that since they were on his territory now, she would have to rely on him to learn her way around the keep and the household and they would be spending more time together. More important still, at Winterfell he would be the Lord and she would have to obey him. No more adhering to the southern customs of her family. They were in his beloved North now. Here he knew how to act!

His heart was lighter when he knocked on the door that separated the Lord’s and Lady’s chambers a bit later to escort his wife to the great hall for dinner. ‘All would be well. He would see to it.’

 

***

That evening, Lady Catelyn sat formally next to her husband at the high table. Both were dressed up as befitted their station. A welcome home feast had been prepared in their honour and the great hall was filled with family, friends even some servants were present at the lower tables.

For the first time she saw her solemn husband relax and smile. He clearly was glad to be home.  
Catelyn eyed the abundant display of food. The rich aroma’s wafting her way reminded her how long ago her last meal had been. Her husband filled her plate with a healthy portion of some kind of stew. Catelyn accepted it from him with a shy smile. She immediately started eating, the food was as delicious as it smelled. She tried to eat slowly minding her manners knowing full well that the northern lords and servants were eyeing her every move.

Ned noticed her getting a bit self conscious. He leaned towards her and silently remarked “Give them time. Let them get to know you. They will come to love their new Lady. But for now they are just curious. Let them study you. That is to be expected. In no time they will be sharing their exaggerated tales with you”, he paused looking around before continuing, “which may be sooner than we think, by the looks of the amounts of ale being consumed.”  
Smiling broadly he handed her a piece of bread and continued his meal.

A few moments later he addressed her once more. “We will be inviting all the lords of the North to come to Winterfell in a few moon’s time to celebrate the birth of the new heir of Winterfell. Best use this occasion to practice getting along with this lot. After all practice makes perfect.” He winked.

Perplexed Catelyn eyed her husband. It was not the impending task of organizing a feast for the northern lords that had her flabbergasted. No, it was the almost teasing tone of Ned’s last few sentences. Did she hear correctly? Had her solemn husband tried to lighten the mood?

***

Catelyn was ready to retire. Ned had left her a while earlier with the promise to meet up with her in her chambers. He had excused himself, stating he needed to catch up with his brother but had requested that she wait up for him. He had looked firmly at her but with a hint of pleading in his eyes. She had known her only option was to gracefully agree and had silently nodded her head.

 

The handmaid had left here alone once more. She was dressed in her nightshift, her hair arranged into two proper braids, she was ready for the night. After saying her night prayers, she had installed herself on the bed and had pulled the heavy furs on top of her. She had tried to read the book she had brought with her from Riverrun but had not been able to read one single page. She was just about to give up when she heard a knock on a door she hadn’t even noticed was there.

Ned entered her chambers in large determent strides. Apparently that door led to his quarters.  
“Are you well?” Ned asked, “Do you have enough furs? Is the fire stoked high enough for you?”

Catelyn looked up. She was blushing as a maid. ‘Ridiculous, I am a wife and a mother’, she told herself. 

Ned shed the large grey robe he was wearing which left him in a white cotton shirt. She couldn’t help but shiver when Ned moved to sit beside her on the bed. He started to look nervous when she still hadn’t responded to his questions.

“Are you all right?” he repeated his grey eyes intently gazing into hers. “Did you find all you needed?”  
“Yes, of course, thank you”, she finally replied a bit intimidated by his unwavering stare.

“I would very much like to bed you tonight”, Ned told her bluntly, “Will you let me?” 

 

‘Well, it was kind of him to ask …’  
Catelyn saw a blush appear on his cheeks but there was also an iron determination in his eyes. This was another Ned than the formal husband she had lived with at Riverrun, nor was he the considerate but distant travel companion on the road these last few sennights. This was the Lord of Winterfell who had come to her bed. Although polite and respectful, Catelyn saw for the first time a glimpse of a powerful, noble man who could be an autocratic be it thoughtful Lord and husband, a husband who would be strong and intelligent enough to protect her and their offspring.

Strangely this realisation didn’t scare her. Quite the opposite really, she felt her body respond to him with the same butterflies she used to feel during the few flirty conversations she had had with Brandon Stark. She even felt a tingling between her legs. Now it was her turn to blush.  
Looking straight at him she answered bravely, “You’re my husband, it is expected.”

“I’ll try to make it better for you ”, he stated and he wasted no time taking her firmly into his arms now that he had her consent. “I know the first time is difficult for a woman. And with the war looming over our heads, well let’s just say, I didn’t, I wasn’t…”  
Catelyn put her hand over his mouth, “sssh”, she said, “let us both try to do better”. She closed the last bit of space between them and kissed him.

 

***

The next morning Catelyn woke up with a warm body lying beside her. Ned hadn’t left. After he had worshipped her body in ways previously unknown to her, he had fallen asleep almost immediately after finishing inside her. He had just had enough energy to roll of her and spoon up behind her. She had had no choice but to try and fall asleep with a heavy arm around her waist, her legs sticky with his seed, most of it still deeply ensconced inside of her. Surprisingly she had felt tired and strangely satisfied. Before she knew it sleep had overtaken her as well. 

Catelyn turned her head to study her husband. Ned was still asleep. He looked younger now. Seeing him like this, it was hard to believe he was the Warden of the North who had the power to decide the life and death of tens of thousands of subjects.

The first rays of morning light fell upon her husband’s face and revealed a few small scars he had obtained during the war. Catelyn didn’t know how to feel about him still being in her chambers, both still naked, his legs keeping one of hers pinned to the bed. This was new territory for her. Luckily Ned was like a hot furnace keeping the bed warm enough to ignore the chill in the room now the fire had almost gone out. 

‘Was this what married couples did?’ She wasn’t sure. The septa’s hadn’t prepared her for this myriad of feelings. Nobody had told her how her body could respond to his. She was only taught to obey her husband and do her duty. Give him heirs and daughters to make alliances.

But somehow his passion had stirred some unladylike responses. At first she had tried to fight these unfamiliar feelings. While Ned was coupling with her, something strange had been building inside her and she had strained all her muscles to prevent herself from letting him see any wanton responses. Ned however had not let her keep still. He had urged her to relax, to let go, to let herself feel. He had touched her everywhere with his hands. ‘Oh when she let herself remember how his fingers had touched her down there, and Gods his mouth…’ 

He had told her that he loved the little noises she made and had reassured her that the walls of the keep were thick enough, that this was between the two of them. In here they could indulge themselves. They were married, this was no sin. This was sanctified by the Gods. And Catelyn had let herself be persuaded.

If this was what married couples did, well, she would adhere to the Tully words ‘Family, Duty, Honour’ . Perhaps it wasn’t such a daunting task after all to give the Warden of the North plenty of heirs.  
She shivered. It really was cold this morning. Catelyn nestled herself closer to her husband’s warm body. Perhaps husbands and wives slept in the same bed for more than one reason in this dreary North. She let sleep overtake her once more.

 

***

**The night before in the Lord’s solar:**

Benjen sipped from his ale while his brother was scanning several scrolls. They had retired to this brother’s solar and would finally be able to relate what they each had achieved these last few moons. Ned had given orders not to be disturbed. Benjen waited for his brother to start.

Ned put the messages he had been reading aside and focussed his intent stare on Benjen.  
“Tell me first, how he is doing? Was the journey uneventful? Is he safe? Is he healthy?”

“Be calm, brother. He is fine. He is as safe as can be for the moment”, Benjen reassured Ned.  
A big smile broke over his face. 

“He is bonny and a real Stark. He is a little Lyanna reborn. He has the cutest dark coloured hair that has started to curl adoringly. You would not think he had any Targaryen blood if you didn’t know to look for it. His eyes are the Stark grey. It seems to me only his fine cheekbones and the form of his chin resemble Rhaegar. Ned, if you would put him next to Robb, people would say Jon was the Stark and Robb some scion from the Riverlands. No offence.”

 

“He is an active little fellow. He is always looking around, studying all that his baby eyes can see. He tries to grab everything within reach and puts it in his mouth when you’re not fast enough to prevent it.” Benjen finished his passionate description of their little nephew. 

 

“Perhaps we should have gone for another solution? We could have brought him to Winterfell proclaiming him my trueborn son? I would not have minded a hasty marriage, even to his nurse, to be able to raise him as my own. He has already stolen my heart in just these few moons. Ned, could we perhaps change our plan?” Benjen took a deep breath and looked beseechingly at his big brother.

“And how would you explain the presence of his guards?” Ned retorted. “I told you how they would not give up their King, not even to his closest family. I feel for you Benjen, really I do. Don’t you think that I want him here, where we both can see him grow up and protect him ourselves? It was me who promised Lyanna to keep him safe. He is my blood too! But I had to see reason.” 

Ned moved closer to his brother and made a comforting gesture.  
“Benjen, please understand, Winterfell is the center of the North. A lot of people would get to meet him, and our three guards would not want to let him out of their sight.  
In the Driftmark, these knights can hopefully remain incognito. Here it would be a matter of days, perhaps even less before someone noticed them. No disguise can be complete enough to make these three unrecognizable. Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and certainly Ser Arthur Dayne are some of the most prominent heroes of Westeros.  
No to mention all of the Seven Kingdoms have been wondering for moons now what could have happened to them. Have you forgotten how easily Varys or Littlefinger can get wind of anything happening in the realm?”

Ned settled back into his chair. “No, raising him at Winterfell is out of the question. No matter our wishes. The important thing is to keep Jon safe and to adhere to the plan we all have agreed on.”  
“Now tell me, please, how was the journey to the Driftmark, how has everyone settled in? What protective measures are being taken?” Ned urged once more.

Benjen realised Ned was right to be impatient. He had hardly answered any of his brother’s initial questions. He ordered his thoughts and started his report.

“They told me Arthur Dayne used his connections in Dorne to secure them a ship to take us to the Driftmark. You should have seen them: the three of them dressed like farmers, Howland Reed in his habitual green attire, Wylla, his nurse disguised as a Septa carrying a small babe. When I met up with them on that small island as per your instructions, I almost missed them. I was looking for three tall proud knights but instead found three poorly looking farmers with slightly drooped shoulders trying to blend in and not attract too much attention. If it weren’t for Howland Reed and their luggage, I would have missed them. 

Benjen paused and sipped his ale.  
“Let me tell you Ned, your friend Howland Reed is a strange fellow. He seemed to know instinctively who could be trusted and who needed to be avoided. He apparently seemed to recognize the name of the captain of the ship. Some distant relation to his wife or something.  
His contacts in the Driftmark proved true as well. Jon has been adopted by the elderly Lord and Lady Velaryon, distant cousins to the ruling lord of House Velaryon lord of the Driftmark.” 

“I must concur, Lord Reed’s suggestion of the Driftmark was brilliant. Having seen it with my own eyes, I can testify that the Driftmark being a modest island in Blackwater Bay near Dragonstone is the perfect place to hide our True King. The inhabitants don’t interact much with the mainland. And as Howland Reed had promised us, they are all loyal to House Targaryen to a fault. They are proud of their heritage, originating from Old Valeria themselves. I have had to listen to several grand tales of how their forefathers landed in Westeros long before the Targaryens ever saw Dragonstone for the first time.”

Benjen was on a roll now.  
“The elderly couple have welcomed Jon and Wylla into their home and are glad with the extra company and help. Jon poses as their grandson, their own son being killed on the Trident. Our knights take turns guarding him. The three of them have taken up quarters in a small cottage that lies within clear view of their King’s new home.”

“They tell everyone who wants to know how the three of them and Jon’s father were a tight group of fight buddies. And as happens often in times of war they had all allegedly sworn to each other to look after one another’s family should any of them not survive the war. Jon’s mother of course having died in childbirth it was their duty to bring the orphaned baby to his closest living relations. “

“Then they complete their story by explaining that they do not really have anywhere to go to and have decided to settle in the Driftmark. They state that they are glad to lead a peaceful life now, helping the community out with small chores and serving as protection against thieves and poachers. So far nobody suspects anything. For the moment Jon is as safe as he could be while still living in Westeros.”

Ned relaxed a bit after Benjen’s tale. “Well, let’s hope for the best then. I’ll beg the Gods to help us protect him.”

He picked up one of the scrolls.  
“I have news as to the other matters. First, our contact has arrived in Fleabottom and states he is making progress. Another message is from Lannister Port. Things there are also going according to plan. The first steps have been taken. Soon it will be time to reconvene with our sympathizers to discuss further strategies.”

Ned rose stiffly from his seat. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk some more during the next few days. I reckon you don’t have to leave before the next sennight?“

Benjen nodded at Ned with an impish smile on his face. “Off to bed or off to the wife?”

 Ned answered with a weak smile and left the solar after making sure he had the scrolls safely tucked away in his pockets. He strode towards his bedroom.

 

***

**Interlude1: Dorne**

**Some moons after the event of the previous chapter:**

Oberyn Martell was abruptly awoken by a servant. “My Prince, you are requested to appear before Prince Doran. And make haste, the Prince stressed the urgency of my message. Please my Prince, hurry or I will be punished.”

Oberyn’s eyebrows rose. This was unprecedented. His brother never threatened the younger servants over something this trivial. His siesta was over it seemed. He quickly disentangled his limbs from Ellaria’s and, made himself presentable. He left to go find his elder brother.

He heard a lot of noises coming from the great hall. It seemed he was not the only one summoned. However, of all the things he could have imagined to see when he entered the room, the sight that greeted him was as unexpected as it was welcome. 

With a wide grin on his face he looked over to his brother. Prince Doran sat in his usual chair and greeted him with troubled eyes. Oberyn could not fathom why. ’Was this not a reason to celebrate?’  
He couldn’t imagine any better surprise. ‘Oh, the things he would be able to do and say now. How best to take revenge, in what manner …’

His thoughts halted when Prince Doran abruptly rose from his chair and gestured Oberyn to follow him out of the hall. Bemused Oberyn obeyed him, his eyes reluctantly leaving the sight of a bruised and battered heavily chained Ser Gregor Clegane who was sitting in the middle of the room inside a large wooden crate only visible because two sides of the crate had been opened and lowered to the ground.

Safely secluded in Doran’s private quarters, Oberyn tried to be patient and waited for his brother to start the conversation. His brother looked deeply troubled. When the silence persisted, Oberyn tried for the obvious.  
“Isn’t this a good development brother? Who captured him?” 

Prince Doran seemed to be looking for words. He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated this one more time and finally seemed to come to a decision. He slowly removed a scroll from his sleeve and handed it to his brother.  
“Read it”, he ordered. 

Oberyn’s curiosity grew. He accepted the scroll and started to read.

 _Prince Doran,_  
_Please accept our gift. The content of the crate is yours to dispose of as you please. We only entreat you to inflict no harm upon the delivery team. We rely upon your honour._  
_It is our pleasure to help bring justice to your kin. No longer worry about the other culprit. He won’t be heard of again. Maybe one day you would be willing to return the favour?_  
_Until then,_  
_Kin of your kin_

“What can be the meaning of this? The other culprit? Have you heard anything about the Lannister devil lately? Surely they allude to him. Who do you think sent this message? What would they want from us? Isn’t this good news though? This is surely sent by allies of ours, don’t you agree? Who could it be: ‘Kin of our kin’? How were the scroll and the crate even delivered here? What do you know of this? Can I be the one to end his miserable life?” Oberyn fired these questions at his brother. Although the message confused him, overall the content was exhilarating!

Doran sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know and that is what troubles me. But yes, you can be the one to carry out justice in whatever way you want. However, we will need to strategize. We need to make sense of this. We need to contact all our spies in the Seven Kingdoms. I will even send word out overseas. We need to get to the bottom of this and fast. I want answers.”  
Doran seemed very troubled.

Oberyn however could not be deterred. “Brother, how was the crate delivered? Did the scroll arrive with it or was it sent by raven? What haven’t you told me?”

Doran looked up to his brother “Stop pacing in front of me. My nerves are on edge enough as it is without you aggravating matters. Sit down and I’ll tell you all I know, little that it is.”

Oberyn obeyed without hesitation he quickly seated himself opposite his brother. He folded his hands in his lap and encouraged his brother to tell it all. “Let’s hear it brother”, he said in a low tone.

Doran started  
“The crate was delivered by a Northern vessel belonging to House Manderly. They sailed here directly from Kings Landing. They were commissioned to bring the crate into my hands personally. Their client, so the delivery team stated, had paid double the required fee for their discretion and had given no name.”

“They were told we would be expecting it and would be grateful for its safe delivery. They also said they had gone to great trouble to deliver the subject alive and in a relative clean state having received detailed instructions on feeding and other necessary caretaking tasks . They were glad to finally be rid of the responsibility. They even asked me to sign a document confirming that I had received the cargo intact.”  
“Further interrogation wasn’t possible since I had decided to adhere to the request in the scroll I had received a moon ago. I felt honour bound to grant them safe passage back to their vessel.” 

Doran paused but then decided to continue .  
“The scroll was sent by a raven from the Wall. My guess is that the sender is the long forgotten Targaryen, Maester Aemon who serves at the wall. I think he is still alive, though he must have seen at least ninety namedays by now.”

Oberyn startled “Targaryen? Targaryen! At the wall? Are you sure?”

“No I am not sure!” Doran shouted agitated. ”That’s the problem. The people of the Night’s Watch are forbidden to interfere with the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. They must remain neutral. I do not know what to think. That’s what bothers me. Ever since the content of the package was revealed, I have been trying to figure this out. I have been racking my brain searching for the safest way to obtain more information. What do they want from us? How should we go forward without betraying our purpose? “

“We need to be smart about this Oberyn. For once I want you to think before you act. Help me figure this out. Be my eyes and ears outside of Dorne. I was thinking on the possibility of sending you on a tour throughout the Kingdoms so you can discreetly gather information about the current political situation.“

Oberyn stared at him deep in thought.

Doran continued, “Find out whether something happened to Tywin Lannister. See how the Baratheon King is doing. Try to ferret out how much support he really has? Are the Lannisters weakened? See if you can find a trace of any enemies to the crown who would want to destroy the Baratheon-Lannister alliance. Sniff out possible conspiracies against the throne if you can. The sending of this package is no charity. Clearly someone is reaching out to us, someone who is not sympathetic to the current dynasty. ” 

Oberyn was making a move to interrupt but Doran lifted his hand to stop him. 

“Of course you may take all the time you need to dispose of our precious gift any way you like first. That goes without saying. We will discuss our next steps at length afterwards. I feel that whatever has been set in motion will take some time to build before any action can be taken openly, whatever whoever may intend. This is a dangerous game. If you take into account the careful wording of the message and the anonymous delivery of the package, you can not help but notice that the people behind this are very cautious. Please leave me to my solitude now. I need to calm down and think on this some more.”

Doran closed his eyes and slumped in his chair. He felt drained of all energy.  
‘No good can come of this’, he thought. ‘Why can't they leave us in peace?’  
Oberyn on the other hand left the room with a spring in his step, his mind swirling with possibilities. ‘First things first’, he thought and a smug smile appeared on his face. ‘Time to fetch Ellaria from her bed, the sand snakes too’, he decided. ‘They will want to have their share of the fun.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter Jon will make an appearance.


	3. Greywater Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjen visits Jon at Greywater Watch.  
> The Hound makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If coarse language offends you, better stop reading this story. Sandor Clegane knows no other way of communicating. I also might have borrowed some dialogue from the screenwriters and GRRM, I just couldn’t resist the temptation. Let’s call it me paying them tribute. I'm also grateful for the Game of Thrones wiki.  
> This work is still unbeta’d so blame me for any mistakes.

**The Neck approximately four years later**

“One more night and I’ll have a roof over my head”, Benjen thought. It was not his first visit to Lord Reed’s stronghold. He was seated a bit secluded from his travelling companions but still close enough to the fire to stay warm. The small delegation of brothers of the Night’s Watch that travelled with him was a part of his official mission. The Warden of the North had used his influence to negotiate advantageous trading deals for the Night’s Watch throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They would also be collecting the annual taxes the Lords of Westeros were levied to sustain the Night’s Watch. One of the many stops along the way was Greywater Watch. Additionally they were tasked to bring back as many new recruits as they could find.  
Benjen was used to life on the road now. However travelling in a small group and keeping his real purpose a secret, had never been his forte. He was grateful for the companionship though.

Ever since he had let himself be persuaded by his elder brother not to say his Night’s Watch vows, his life had been an adventure. He had seen more of Westeros than almost anyone in the North. Never could he have dreamed up this kind of life for himself. None of the farfetched scenarios he had fantasized about during his youth ever since understanding the plight of a third son of a lord, had even come close to what his lot in life had turned out to be.

A few years ago, Benjen had thought he was done, finished. He had been stuck in Riverrun, doing nothing but drinking and blaming himself for everything: the Rebellion, the deaths of Brandon and his father and the loss of his sister. He had seen no way forward. He had lost almost everything he had held dear. His only grounding force had been his brother Ned. But Benjen had hardly been able to look him in the eye since he also partly blamed himself for the circumstances that had forced Ned to give up his lady love and to marry for political gain before going of to fight in a war that shouldn’t have been started in the first place. 

And to make matters worse, when Ned had returned victoriously from the Rebellion, he had almost immediately left again, this time on a mission to find Lyanna and had ordered his younger brother to stay put and look out for his pregnant wife. Benjen had been on the brink to forsake his life and go to the wall. He would freeze himself to death or be killed if not by wildlings then surely by one or other wild animal rumoured to live on the other side of the wall. He had felt he didn’t deserve another choice. He had been racked by guilt.

 

But then Ned had returned with news about his sister. And Benjen’s world had been turned on its head once more. It had taken Ned a lot of reasoning to get through to Benjen who had at first spiralled deeper into his depression upon learning that Lyanna was dead.  
Lyanna, his dear sister, who had always been so full of life, was dead and he had been complicit. He had helped her escape to meet her Prince and evade the arranged betrothal to Robert. At the time Benjen’s choice had been a simple one. Not only had he been loyal to his sister to a fault, he had also agreed most fervently that Robert Baratheon was not a good match for her. Never could he have imagined what her flight had put into motion.

Benjen had never understood how Ned could not see past his friendship with Baratheon and discern his real character. Everybody who had eyes could see how he treated women. They were just bodies to stick his cock into and something to brag about afterwards to all and sundry when he was drunk enough. Robert would have strayed from Lyanna’s marriage bed almost immediately and frequently at that. Benjen had been sure of it. Robert had not loved Lyanna for her vibrant personality. He had loved the opportunity she represented. He would marry the beautiful sister of his dear foster brother making him a good brother and in one swell swoop build a strong alliance with the Northern most Kingdom. Lyanna’s spirit would have been broken in no time. Ned however hadn’t seen it that way. 

“He is young”, Ned had tried to assure Benjen. “Marriage will settle him down.”  
Well, marriage with Cersei Lannister hadn’t settled Robert down at all. His proclivities had only increased these last few years. Stories about the King’s whoring and excessive drinking were told all over the Kingdom. The brothels in Kingslanding thrived. 

When Benjen had uttered his plan to join the Night’s Watch to Ned upon his elder brother’s return from the South, Ned had denied him. His elder brother had used the most compelling argument to get Benjen to listen: Jon.  
The heated debate with Ned over his future had only taken a turn for the better when the true meaning of wat his brother was talking about became clear. Benjen’s brain had slowly started to digest the true meaning of what Ned had been trying to tell him. The child meant a new life born from Lyanna’s womb. There was still a living piece of his sister in this realm, a trueborn Prince. ‘No, not a Prince, a King, the death of Rhaegar and the Mad King has put Jon - or King Aegon’, he mentally corrected himself, ‘first in line for the Iron Throne!’ Benjen had found his medicine for the darker thoughts that had plagued him the previous year. He would not become a brother of the Night’s watch. 

Benjen looked at the fire that was slowly dying. “Time to call it a night” he called out to his companions. He straightened his stiff limbs and slowly walked over to the small tent he had erected earlier when they had stopped to make camp. “See you all in the morning. I trust you will look after the fire? “ A small pause and then he continued encouragingly , “If we ride hard, we will meet up with our guide before noon and have plenty of time to navigate the swamps while it is still light. We will reach Greywater Watch before dark. Goodnight.”  
The men all nodded and wished him a good night’s sleep as well.

***

It was still well before dusk when the small party reached the castle.  
Benjen’s fellow travellers let out an almost simultaneous sigh of relief. They had been following the guide for a long time, traipsing through the swamps of the Neck in a single line all the while making sure to follow exactly in the footsteps of the crannogman that Lord Reed had sent out to meet up with them. They could finally relax and walk leisurely beside each other again. 

Benjen looked toward the castle expectantly. Just as he had foreseen, a small figure exited the stronghold and ran straight at him as fast as his little legs allowed.  
“Uncle Benjen, Uncle Benjen, you’re here, you’re finally here!” The five year old leapt into the arms of his uncle clinging onto him with all the strength his little arms could muster.

Benjen swung him around a few times before putting him down again.  
“Let me have a look at you then. My oh my, how you’ve grown. I can see you are eating your vegetables as you promised eh Jon.”  
The little boy beamed up at him. “Yes Uncle and meat and potatoes too. Come in and I show you the wooden sword I got from Art. They’re teaching me to fight and Art says if I listen good I get a real one!”  
“It’s if you listen well.” Benjen corrected his nephew gently and ruffled his curls affectionately.

Benjen checked whether this travel companions were still close by. He saw that they had already been directed towards the stables and taken his own horse along so he could stay and greet the boy properly. He scanned the courtyard to see who Jon’s ever persistent shadow was this time.  
“Nice to see you, Ser Gerold”, he greeted the knight. “Are all three of you here this time?”

“Nice to see you too Stark”, Gerold truly looked glad to see him. It’s me and Ser Oswell. Ser Arthur is away on … business. Lord Reed will tell you all about that once were away from prying eyes and ears.”

Benjen took his nephew by the hand, a warm smile on his face. “Time to go look at that sword, don’t you think so Jon. Can you lead the way?” Beaming from ear to ear now, the little boy skipped ahead toward the castle dragging his uncle along. Ser Gerold hurriedly followed both of them inside.

***

Benjen laughed indulgently at another statement of Jon. His nephew had been talking almost non-stop since Benjen’s arrival. Not that he minded. He was glad to see the boy again and also relieved to see for himself that he had adapted well to the change in his living arrangements. They had received a reassuring message from Lord Reed at Winterfell shortly before he had started out on this tour of the kingdoms, but seeing him with his own eyes had eased his worries. Jon had mentioned little Meera, Lord Reed’s three year old daughter often, but mostly he had been telling his uncle about his first training sessions with the wooden sword.

He had argued adoringly that it was high time he was allowed to use more than a stick now that he was almost five. Still he had complained at length that Sir Arthur often spend almost the entire duration of the lesson telling him how to stand properly and how to move, left, right, backward and forward. How Ser Arthur would push him out of the blue in an attempt to unbalance him and then would explain at length how best to correct his stance to prevent himself from falling over. “But”, he had pleaded, “I love to fight with my sword, Uncle Benjen. Will you spar with me tomorrow? Ser Arthur is on a trip and Ser Oswell won’t mind, I think?” 

Benjen had fond memories of himself constantly bugging Ned or Brandon to spar with him at that age and Ned being the one who mostly indulged his younger brother by showing him the moves he had learned from the master at arms during his required daily training.  
“I will come out to the training yard tomorrow and teach you some blocks if you like”, he offered the small boy. “But only if Ser Gerold or Ser Oswell allow it”, he added as an afterthought.

Jon had hugged his uncle. “You’re the best; Uncle Benjen. I wished you could stay here with me forever.”  
“Me too”, Benjen answered solemnly. “Me too. Perhaps in a few years? We’ll see. In the meantime I will visit you as often as I can. I promise. I will certainly drop by on my return journey.” He held his digit and middle finger up in a V-shaped form. “I swear.”  
Jon mimicked the gesture. “I swear too?” He looked over to his uncle for assurance.  
Uncle Benjen only laughed in response and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately once more.

 

“Come along. Let us see if we can find something to eat. I’m starving and I don’t know about you. Can you show me to way, Jon?”  
His nephew’s facial expression changed completely. He looked confident once more.  
“I can Uncle, I never ever get lost any more.” The boy frowned. “But Lord Reed doesn’t seem to believe me cause he always sends Art or someone else along with me.” He complained. “And I know my way, truly Uncle. I even help Meera sometimes and she has lived here longer than me already, but then…” he paused mulling it over, “perhaps that because she is still so small?”  
“I think that could be it, nephew. Let’s get to it then? I told the truth when I said I was starving.”

*** 

 

That night, after they had finally put Jon to bed, a difficult task this time since the little guy had been overexcited to have his uncle come visit, Lord Reed, Ser Gerold and Benjen retired to Howland Reed’s solar. Ser Oswell had taken up guard outside Jon’s bedroom and would be briefed later if necessary.

“Jon seems to have settled in all right at Greywater Watch?” Benjen opened the conversation since the men had been contemplating each other silently for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet now Jon had retired.

“He certainly has”, Lord Reed confirmed. “What’s more, my wife and I are glad to have him. He regularly plays with Meera. I think he likes not being the youngest one for a change. Meera has just turned three now and Jon likes to play act that he is a knight saving the little girl from ogres. I can’t wait to see how he will react to a new born. My lady wife is due in a moon’s time.”  
“Don’t get me wrong it was a pity Edric Celtigar passed away. But in the few moons Jon has been here I have come to learn that moving him here to be fostered amongst the crannogmen at this particular time is a blessing in disguise. 

“What do you mean by a blessing in disguise?” Benjen looked confused. He had been devastated when their seemingly ideal plan for raising Jon had been thwarted by the death of his “grandparent”. I thought there was no place for him more to grow up more suited than the Driftmark. Even if his cover would have been blown there, the community would have supported him one hundred per cent and now he’s here …”

“Greywater Watch is even safer.” Howland Reed retorted not letting him finish his sentence, his intense gaze directed at Benjen. He continued passionately raising his voice. “House Stark has no bannermen as loyal as House Reed. We swear our oath ‘by earth and water, by bronze and iron, by fire and ice’. The crannogmen would never betray the nephew of the Warden of the North. He is as safe here, well maybe even more so, than he was at the Driftmark.”

Forcing himself to calm down, Reed explained further “Our castle is one of the safest in Westeros. You’ve surely noticed that it is situated so deep in the swamplands of the Neck that the only way to reach it safely is by being guided by a crannogman. Without our guidance this morning, you would most probably have drowned before getting even halfway to the castle. And even if you’ve been here once, I challenge you to try and find your way again. Not only are the paths treacherous and one false step can get you swallowed up by the swamps, Greywater Watch won’t be in the same place when you next visit. However improbable it may seem, I swear to you that it kind of moves. It is part of the natural environment of the Neck. No raven can find it and certainly no spy can enter it undetected.” Howland Reed paused to take a breath. “It is safe here”, he stressed once more.

He seemed hesitant for a moment but still decided to continue. “We have a powerful greenseer here as well. Another point in our favour, but that was not what I was alluding to”, he ended mysteriously.

Benjen and Ser Gerold both stared at him shocked by this declaration. However neither of them uttered a word, but just looked expectantly at Lord Reed wanting him to continue.

Howland Reed seemed to mull over the best way to explain himself.  
“Aegon, “  
“His name is Jon for now.” Benjen couldn’t help correcting immediately.  
“As I told you before”, Lord Reed countered patiently, “we’re safe here from prying ears. But I’ll oblige you. Jon has the blood of the two most powerful bloodlines in the Seven Kingdoms: blood of the Dragons and blood of the Kings of Winter. Both lines possess powerful magic. If you combine them …”

Benjen's eyes were as big like saucers now.  
“Magic in the Stark’s blood?” he uttered unbelievingly.

“The Kings of Winter had the ability to warg. Don’t you recognize the term from stories your old Nan told you at Winterfell? The Starks of old could enter into an animals mind, they could either completely take it over, or share its mind depending on the mental capabilities of said animal. Still, every generation at least one Stark emerges who has the potential to become a warg. Only the knowledge on how to develop this ability has been lost to you and none of you are even able to recognize the early symptoms should they occur, as far as I have observed.”

“I’ve seen several signs already that this ‘Stark’-ability is awakening in Jon which is abnormal at such a young age. My guess is that the Dragonblood in him will enhance his warg powers.  
Let’s just say that Jon will have to be tutored carefully and who better to do that than us Crannogmen. We know what we’re dealing with. Our blood also contains some magic. We inherited it from the First Men just as the Starks, but our unique way of living in close connection to nature has seemingly helped to conserve our magic. In almost every generation a greenseer is born at Greywater Watch. He has green dreams but can warg as well.”

Benjen stared at him chocked by this declaration. His mind was reeling. He tried to silence the many questions popping up in his mind and forced himself to focus on the issue at hand: Jon. He made a mental note to revisit this subject another time. He would like to have a description of these “early symptoms”.  
“But was does this mean for Jon exactly?” Benjen still felt unbalanced. The entire situation was slipping through his fingers. A short while ago he had felt on top of the world. Jon looking up to him as the best uncle in the world had boosted his self-confidence. Now he was out of his depth. He had to know more in order to be able to help his nephew.

“It means that we will start with little mental exercises with the boy without him knowing their real purpose at first. Next, I guess at the latest within a year from now, I will gift him with a puppy. Jon will learn to share its mind. Since we are able to lead him gradually into this ability at such a tender age, it will eventually become very natural to him, a second nature so to speak. I predict he will be able to warg into any animal as easy as you are able to read. If developed correctly, it will be a great asset to him. If I am right about this, he could turn an entire pack of wolves to do his bidding simply by controlling the leader of a pack of wolves. No average warg can enter the mind of such a strong animal never mind taking over complete control. Most wargs will only be able to do this to lesser animals. Jon’s warg abilities will potentially surpass them all.”  
“That is what I mean when I call Jon being fostered by us here at Greywater Watch an unexpected windfall”, Lord Reed concluded.

Ser Gerold had yet to speak a word. If Lord Reed spoke true, then they would have their task cut out for them. How could you protect a boy that was able to play pranks on them with the help of animals?  
‘Best teach him to be respectful toward his protectors and teachers’, Ser Gerold noted to himself. ‘We’re all lucky Jon is such a good-natured child. Hells, the Seven Kingdoms are lucky.’  
Aloud he only bid them “Do be careful with the boy though, magic is all good and well but do not take risks with his mental health. We have to keep him safe. Bear in mind that Targaryens have a tendency to develop madness. Personally I’m quite certain it won’t affect Jon, but if you start messing with his mind.” 

“We will proceed slowly, you have my word”, Lord Reed promised

Everyone took a moment to contemplate all they had discussed. Just when it seemed that the topic was closed for now, Benjen spoke up once more. He still had one major concern.  
“Reed, the person, uh greenseer who will be working with my nephew, won’t he learn of the true heritage of Jon because of his uh green dreams? Won’t you have to ask permission for this from Ned Stark? He will want to know of another person working so closely with Jon and being in the know.”

“The greenseer is me, Stark. You trust me, I hope?”

Benjen and Ser Gerold could only nod their heads. They were flabbergasted.  
A heavy silence fell upon the room once more.

Eventually Benjen made an effort to lighten the mood. “Well”, he asked, “and what genius plan would the Sword of the Morning be carrying out at the moment?”

 

***

**Later that same evening:**

Benjen rested his head on the furs he had shaped into some semblance of a cushion to support his head. He contemplated all he had learned about Jon today. Benjen only ever called him Jon as opposed to his birth name Aegon which was kept a secret for obvious safety reasons. When the time came that King Aegon would stake his claim, Benjen knew he would have difficulty to adapt to the other moniker.

Whether you called him Jon or Aegon, the little boy was the focus of his life now. The last thing he had left of his sister. Benjen had taken over part of Ned’s task to protect him. He had sworn himself into the service of his nephew, the future king of Westeros. For now however, he was an honorary uncle to the child, an alleged war friend of Jon’s deceased father who checked in on him from time to time to assure his wellbeing. At least that was his cover story as far as the rest of the world was concerned. 

The first time Benjen had seen Jon was at the Driftmark when Jon was hardly two moons old. He had helped Jon get settled in with the elderly couple, Edric Celtigar and his wife formerly of House Velaryon. Jon’s alleged grandparents had been members of a small branch from House Celtigar who had emigrated from Claw Isle to the Driftmark when Edric, a second son, had fallen in love with a lady Valeryon, cousin to the ruling Lord of the Driftmark.

Nobody even suspected anything was off about their cover story, not even when the three war buddies seemed to settle into a small cottage near to the main house. It was rumoured that one of them surely was enamoured with the baby’s nurse but since they had proceeded to make themselves useful with small tasks and provided protection to the community, the neighbourhood got used to having them around and life went on as usual. 

Jon had been a delightful baby. At first glance Benjen had seen that he truly was Lyanna’s son. As he had described to Ned, Jon had the Stark look not to mention Lyanna’s vibrant energy. One time though Benjen could have sworn he saw hints of purple appear in the little baby’s eyes when he tickled him and Jon had cooed. Benjen’s first visit hadn’t lasted long but his heart had surrendered. This little guy was part of his pack now, the most important member actually. He would find a way to be in his life.

Ned came up with the perfect solution. Benjen Stark was officially named the liaison between the Warden of the North and the Night’s watch. He would supervise that the Watch received the support they were due from each of the Seven Kingdoms. This would mean a lot of travelling and negotiating with the important houses of each Kingdom. He would enforce the timely payment of taxes all great houses were owed to the Wall. This meant he was able to journey across Westeros on a regular basis and could relay messages to their partners in ‘crime’ without arousing suspicion. And if his boat happened to stop often at the Driftmark to provision, nobody suspected anything. Captains often had an ongoing trade deal with the Driftmark. 

So Benjen Stark had been able to see Jon grow up. He had visited the Driftmark at least four times a year during Jon’s first four years of his life. A close bond had developed between the two of them. He knew Ned envied him this.  
Benjen looked forward to spending the rest of the sennight with Jon. He would worry about this warg thing later. According to Lord Reed it would be an ability that would take some time to develop. He still had time to consult with Ned and Maester Luwin. Perhaps he could even ask old Nan to repeat her old stories to him when he would be back at Winterfell. He should make sure Robb heard them as well. 

***

 

**Interlude 2: Brother, oh brother**

**Somewhere in the Westerlands, some time ago**

****

“Fuck of”, Sandor Clegane grumbled, his tired eyes never wavered from his pint. He had been minding his own fucking business. His habitual drinking companions had left only moments before and he had been about to finish his ale and leave as well until those cunts had approached his table.

The three men standing before him took his curse in stride. It had been easy to track him down. Everyone in these lands knew of Sandor Clegane. The smallfolk they encountered in the Westerlands had been willing enough to tell them of the Hound’s habitual haunts, this shabby little tavern not far from where he lived being the principal one.

“Let us introduce ourselves, Ser. Perhaps buy you another round?” the man in the middle proposed politely.

“I'm no Ser”, he grumbled. State your damn business and be off with you lot”.  
Sandor still hadn’t looked up.

The men took that as enough of an invitation and seated themselves at Sandor’s table. The Hound finally deigned to look them. All three seemed to be seasoned fighters. ‘Best stay alert’. He tried to lift the alcoholic haze from his mind. ‘Them assholes look like a dangerous lot. Better hear ‘m out and be done with them.’  
“I need no more piss water. Stop wasting my bloody time and talk.”

The same person spoke again. “I am Benjen Stark of Winterfell. These are my travelling companions Lord Umber of the Last Hearth and Ozzy Waters. We have some business you might be interested in so to speak.”

Sandor more attentive now, scrutinized the three men. His gaze lingered on the one that had been introduced last.  
“Don’t play games with me”, he scoffed. I can sniff out a run off Kingsguard from a mile away.” This last part fortunately had been whispered. “I'll give you one chance to explain you’re sorry asses”, he continued, his voice at a normal volume once more.

“Perhaps we can talk somewhere more discreet?” Stark was clearly the leader of this pack. 

Sandor rose. “Was planning on leaving this godforsaken place anyway. You dumb cunts better follow me.” He tossed some coins on the table and hurried out of the tavern with large strides making it look like he did not care whether they were following him out or not.

***

A short while later, the small group were once more seated around a table, this time in the small cottage Sandor usually stayed in, at least when he was not roaming the kingdoms earning money by entering tournaments or selling his sword for small periods of time. He had declined Lord Tywin Lannister’s offer to serve in his houseguard. His brother might follow orders to kill children without blinking his eyes. Sandor would make damn sure no one he lent his services to would ever ask such a dishonourable thing of him.

Stark took the floor once more. “We’ve come to talk about your brother.”

Sandor’s interest had already been raised when he recognized Ser Oswell Whent, now it reached new heights. He fought to keep his face in a disagreeable scowl not wanting to give anything away. “What do you want with that whoreson who struts around Kingslanding as if he fucking owns it.”

“Well”, Umber couldn’t help but remark, “if he is the son of a whore, then you …”  
Stark held up his hand. “If you don’t have anything of sense to contribute, hold your tongue Greatjon.”  
He turned his attention back to Sandor. “We are planning to bring down your brother and kindly offer you to take centre stage, knowing full well you would be for ever sorry to have missed out on this. We’re here to do you a favour actually.”

They had him, hook, line and sinker.  
When Sandor was still a young boy, Gregor Clegane, nicknamed "the Mountain", his monstrously huge elder brother and arguably the most feared man in Westeros now, had nearly burned off half of Sandor's face because he had found Sandor playing with a toy that Gregor had discarded. Sandor hadn’t even stolen it, he had merely been playing with it and had assumed he hadn’t needed Gregor's permission. Without warning or uttering a word, however, Gregor had grabbed Sandor and had "punished" him by holding his head into a burning brazier. Gregor had only been forced to stop after half a dozen servants managed to pry him away from his brother. The incident left severe burn scars over the right half of Sandor's face. Sandor had taken to wearing his hair long on that side to cover them. 

That sadistic twat had even been knighted and made a brother of the Kingsguard. King Robert had rewarded Gregor Clegane for the viciously killing of Rhaegar’s two children by Elia Martell: their daughter Rhaenys and baby Aegon. He had killed baby Aegon by bashing his head against the wall, and then while still covered in the gore from her children had proceeded to viciously rape Elia, after which he killed her. It was high time for his brother to be punished. 

He sat up straight abandoning all pretence of not wanting their company and encouraged Stark to unfold his plan. It was genius. The only drawback being that he wouldn’t be the one to finish his shitass brother off. ‘  
‘Well, that’s for the best really’, he mused, ‘ wouldn’t want to be called “a kinslayer” for the rest of my life. At least they promised me I still get to rough him up and tell that sadistic prick to his face that his little brother has finally come for him.’

 

Sandor had needed no further persuading. He was on board. He would help them meet his brother somewhere in Fleabottom. Together they would lure him into a secluded spot somewhere close to the docks by dangling the promise of very young fresh whores in front of him. There they would ply him with drugs. That part of the plan would be a piece of cake. His dumb fool of a brother would never see it coming. The hardest part would be to get the big heavy cunt on board of the ship they had commissioned without alerting anyone. It seemed the three men had taken all kind of precautions to keep the little birds and other spies out of the loop. 

Sandor was no dumbass. He had an inkling something was up. ‘But hey, anyone who hated his brother and wanted him dead was his no enemy of his.’ He would keep his eyes and ears open. See if he could learn whether these three were planning other things. He should try to find out what motivated these three. Ser Oswell Whent’s collaboration he could get. But a Stark leading this mission and tagging another Northern lord along with him was suspicious to say the least. These certainly were interesting times.

His thoughts circled back to the mission at hand. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his brother’s face when he realized that he would be shipped of to Dorne. Hells he couldn’t wait to hear how Dorne would make the son of a bitch suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we will go back to Winterfell.  
> Also, Ser Arthur is on a quest.


	4. The pack grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is born and Ser Arthur is on a quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main chapters are mostly ordered chronologically, although the events in this chapter occur a year before Benjen’s visit to Greywater Watch.  
> The interludes on the other hand can be past, present or future snippets of the story. I’ve given my muse free reign with them.  
> Enjoy!

**Winterfell, a year earlier.**

The morning light streamed through the windows of their bedroom. Ned tried to get up without disturbing his wife. Gods knew she needed her sleep. She looked tired all the time, even this morning after a full night’s sleep she still had dark circles under her eyes. The tented covers clearly showed the shape of her body, heavy with their second child. He stumbled around the room to gather his clothes so he could leave and go dress himself in his own chambers. 

He was almost ready and sat back down on his own bed to put his boots on. A small smile ghosted over his face. He had hardly used his own room for sleeping since they had arrived at Winterfell as husband and wife. Even during the days of her moonblood they slept side by side, occasionally indulging in other ways of satisfying each other.  
He knew he had subtly manipulated her at the beginning. He had played on her sense of duty to ease her into life in the North, into her role as Lady of Winterfell, into her role as his lover. And he had succeeded. In the safe environment of their private chambers slowly but surely a loving wife had emerged. 

Once they were left alone for the night, she let down her mask of proud, stern lady of his household and a passionate lover appeared. Even better, she became his rock. Not only had he found the willing body he had craved for since his own had become aware of the allure of women, he had also found an intelligent adviser and a trusted, caring partner to organize his keep and to raise his child with. Soon the right term would be children. Yes, his marriage had turned out all right.

Well at least mostly. Sometimes Ned had to use his autocratic tone of Warden of the North and put his foot down, mainly when it concerned Robb. Catelyn was rather overprotective. She was upset by each bruise he obtained while playing outside with the servant's children. She had been strongly against Ned’s order to start his riding lessons or his formal fight training at what she called ‘such a tender age’. If he would let her have her way, Robb would always be neatly dressed up as a little lord, hardly allowed to move, always being kept closely by her side. The only thing she approved of was his lessons with Maester Luwin. 

Their last big fight had been just a few days ago. It had started out innocent enough.  
They were discussing the lesson plan that Maester Luwin had drafted for their son’s education. His wife had been seated with her feet propped up on a footstool, leaning into him, the both of them installed on the large coach in her sitting room. The blazing hearth made the scene even cosier.

“Calculus, reading lessons, writing lessons, the great houses of Westeros, geography”, she paused looking up from the list into Ned’s eyes. “Quite an impressive list for such a young child”, she remarked. “And there is still more, let me continue: key words of the Old Tongue, High Valerian”, she stopped once more.”  
“High Valerian, Ned?” Whatever will he need that for?”

“Well Cat, as you know someday ‘Winter is coming’. So to state one reason: for the North to survive, we will need to increase our trade agreements with Essos. It is always better to understand your counterpart during negotiations. It is even better when they are not aware of it. It has helped me several times in the past not to mention how my younger brother has been able to get himself out of a few scrapes in Essos. One time especially when he could overhear two men discussing how they were going to rob him as soon as he had retired for the night. They had clearly recognized him as a traveller of some means who was staying at the tavern. They didn’t quite speak High Valerian, but he could make out enough words from the dialect they were using to foil their plans.”

“Anyhow, I have always thought that gathering knowledge is not only about its practical usefulness. It is a way to train the mind, to get a broader understanding of the world in its entirety, a way of developing yourself.” He paused and smiled indulgently at her. “I’m sorry. I am getting carried away. Please read on, what’s next on this list?”

“I’m almost at the end. Maester Luwin suggests that we would perhaps want to teach him about the Gods ourselves.” Catelyn looked thoughtful and proposed:  
“Well luckily you have built a little Sept at my request. I can start to take him with me a few times a sennight and tell him all about the Seven-Pointed Star. Soon he will be able to pray alongside me.” She kept her expression neutral but held her breath waiting for Ned’s reaction.

Ned frowned, tilted his head at her and was visibly searching for the right words.  
“Catelyn“, he started, trying to stay calm and speak slowly in order to make her hear every single word he would speak to her, “Robb is a son of the North. One day, if all goes well, he will be the most powerful man in this Kingdom. His men must be loyal to him, respect him, understand him, must be able to see him as a true Northerner, as one of them.” He kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. “We Northerners, and that includes me rather prominently make no mistake, we believe that the only Gods who have any power here in our beloved North are the old Gods. Your so called new Gods are the Gods of the Andals. As you know we are no Andals. We are of the First Men and proud to be so. “

Although he saw Catelyn grow tense and noticed the colour rise in her check he continued his discourse.  
“Robb will grow up with the Old Gods, pray in the Godswood, he will be married there as well. It is very likely he will marry a lady from a prominent Northern house. You can teach him about the Seven so he can understand the ways of the other Kingdoms but it will never be his religion.”

Catelyn had withdrawn herself as far as the couch would allow. Although her eyes were teary, there was a hint of steel in them when she countered.  
“He is my son too, Ned. I will not let him grow up as a savage. My family will never understand. They will not respect him. It was difficult enough that I had to marry…”. She was stopped by the thunderous expression on her husband’s face as he interrupted her.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, wife!” he yelled seeing he would not succeed in his plan to gently ease her into agreeing to adhere to his point of view. He imposed his authority on her.  
“I am your Lord and husband, woman. You will obey me in this. This is no discussion. I am telling you, Robb will worship the old Gods.” His last sentence was uttered with a significant pause between each word to further emphasize his edict.  
After finishing his diatribe he stood up and left the room abruptly not giving her any chance to object.

Two days of stony silence had ensued. Well, it hadn’t helped that this particular topic had come up precisely when she was in the last stages of her pregnancy.  
Maester Luwin had tried to act as a peacemaker. He had patiently explained to his Lord that pregnant woman could be a bit irrational at times. Since Ned hadn’t been present during her first pregnancy he hadn’t witnessed the mood swings that had plagued her then, the Maester had added. He had also reassured Ned that although Catelyn kept to her bedroom and wouldn’t see him, her health was fine and her pregnancy was posing no problems.  
What Maester Luwin had used as arguments to soften Catelyn’s attitude toward her husband, he knew not.

In the end they had found a kind of fragile compromise, although Ned wouldn’t dare to tell his wife that he considered it a victory. Robb would grow up with the Old Gods. However, if they had any daughters in the future, they would be instructed in both religions and would be able to make their own mind up once they were old enough to decide for themselves.

Slowly the atmosphere at Winterfell ameliorated and their interactions grew affectionate once more.

Fortunately for him, she would deliver in a few days and he wouldn’t have an irrational pregnant wife any longer. He decided to go to the Godswood and pray for a safe delivery and a healthy child.

The Godswood was peaceful as always. Ned loved it here. This was the place where he could get his thoughts together and focus on his problems. He had learned to tackle his issues one at a time. It was often the only way to stay sane. He would mentally picture his mind as this storage space with lots of tiny separate boxes. Then he would proceed to put every problem in a separate box. That way he could mentally take out the most pressing issue and no matter how complicated it had seemed before, with his entire mind focussed on this one difficulty, he was able to come to an acceptable solution most of the time. Then he could open another ‘box’ and concentrate on the next issue.

And the Gods knew he had his fair share of burdens. As if having become Warden of the North without being groomed for it wasn’t enough of a burden onto itself, he was also responsible for the wellbeing of the largest of the seven Kingdoms, a kingdom with the harshest environment of all. It was not easy to keep his people fed and out of trouble. The Northern Lords were a proud and stubborn lot. The only reason he was able to keep them in line was because of their unwavering loyalty to House Stark. 

The Starks had ruled the North for thousands of years, first as the Kings of Winter and for the last three hundred years or so as Wardens of the North and faithful subjects of the Targaryen Dynasty. The Rebellion had changed this status quo. Well, not for long, if Ned had anything to say.

For the moment Robert Baratheon was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Once Robert had been his best friend, he had even been closer to Robert than to his elder brother Brandon. Ned and Robert had grown up together for a few years, both being fostered at the Vale under the care of Jon Arryn. They were thick as thieves then and got in all kinds of trouble together but would always stand up for each other. Either they both got away with it or they were both punished. How times had changed.

Somehow his life had taken an unexpected turn. For some reason the Gods had made him the main instigator of a conspiracy to overthrow Robert’s rule. ‘Ironic really’, he thought. ‘I am a Stark, famous for the Stark honour. Robert will never see it coming.’  
Ned kneeled in front of the hear tree. ‘Why me?” he implored the Gods. “Why did you Gods put this burden on my shoulders?”  
The Gods remained eerily silent. Nevertheless, Ned felt his mind calm down.  
He could focus once more. Ned knew his course was set. He knew he was doing the right thing. There was no doubt. The envisioned endgame was the only true course!

Besides Robert could only blame himself for loosing Ned’s support. Robert had doomed his rule himself. And that only moments after claiming the throne.  
Ned still had a hard time believing his erstwhile friend capable of relishing in the brutal murder of innocent children. Robert had waved aside Ned’s protestations and refused to consider retaliations for the monsters who had taken it upon themselves to murder these children and their mother before Ned and Robert could reach the throne room. 

No, Robert had done even worse. He had thanked them and raised their status. The Mountain became a trusted knight and Tywin Lannister became father in law to the King. Robert had married Cersei Lannister and much of the Lannister gold with it. Ned had left the capital, disgusted, disillusioned and disappointed. He had evaded King Robert’s invitations ever since, stating his office of Warden of the North as an excuse. 

He told himself to stop reminiscing. The only thing he wished for was for someone to reassure him that the way they were trying to achieve their goal was the best one. Someone who could confirm that the plans they were devising were the best way to prevent as much bloodshed as possible when the time was upon them. 

At least it helped some that he could talk these things through with Catelyn now. At first he had kept everything from Catelyn, only Maester Luwin and Benjen knowing of the existence of Jon.  
But gradually Catelyn had become more a Stark than a Tully. She was fiercely loyal to her new family here in the north. And slowly Ned had begun to trust his wife with more delicate matters. And then one night when he had been deeply troubled over a report from the Driftmark, Lyanna’s secret poured out of him. At first Catelyn had had trouble believing that Lyanna wasn’t kidnapped and raped, but had willingly eloped with the married crown prince. But as Ned started to elaborate she had taken it all in in stride. Well, at least since she had learned of the annulment and the second marriage. She had relented once she had realized Jon was a trueborn prince. 

Of course she always insisted on taking every precaution possible for the safety of their family but she had become a soundboard. He could test his theories on her, gauge her reaction and work from there. Catelyn had become a co-conspirator. ‘At least when it is not a religious issue’, he chuckled.

Ned bowed his head and prayed once more to receive guidance from the Gods.  
Feeling lighter he went back inside and entered his solar, determined to start to work on the next steps now that his mind was calmer. He seated himself behind his desk.  
‘How best to go forward? I must contact Howland and see if he knows of another couple at the Driftmark who can take Jon in, should Edric Velaryon succumb to his illness. I would like to go myself this time and see the boy but I cannot be missed here at the moment. Perhaps it is also better no to risk it yet. Better to send Benjen on official business to Greywater Watch. And I must send for …’

“My Lord”, the handmaid of Lady Catelyn stumbled in his solar unannounced interrupting his solitary reflections. She seemed out of breath and Ned knew immediately something was the matter with his wife.  
“Catelyn?” he asked standing abruptly already on his way to the door.  
“Her waters have broken, My Lord. Your child will be born soon! But you can not go to her now, My Lord!” She blocked the doorway. “Best stay here and let the women handle this.”  
She looked a bit anxious realizing she had just given orders to her Lord. “If you don’t mind me saying so, that is. I will inform you as soon as there is more news to relay, My Lord.”

Ned sat down again and nodded. The handmaid left immediately. A few moments later he quit the room in search of company. It served no purpose staying in his solar. He wasn’t able to concentrate any longer.  
***

In the great hall, Benjen and Rodrik Cassel, his master at arms, were trying to keep Lord Stark calm. Benjen was a bit out of his depth here but showed his solidarity by his continuing presence. Cassel offered more substantial help. He had successfully stopped Ned’s pacing. He had gotten him to sit down and had provided ale for the three of them. Then he had tried to distract Ned with some amusing anecdotes of previous child births in his family. Of course he stuck to the more positive aspects and talked mostly of the adorable antics of the babies.

After what seemed like days of waiting to Ned but actually it only had been less than half a day, the handmaid arrived with a small bundle in her hands.  
“Congratulations my Lord, you have a daughter.”

Ned couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face. “And my wife”, he enquired, “Is she all right? How soon can she receive company?”  
“She is resting now my Lord. The birth was not all that difficult but still it asks a lot of a woman’s body. I will let you know when she awakes.”  
She carefully handed the tiny girl over to her father.

Ned was awed. The first time he had seen Robb, the boy had already been several moons old. His new daughter however was tiny. Robb had been a giant compared to her. She almost disappeared inside his arms. He had to readjust her in order to be able to see the little face and did so with trepidation. She looked so frail. However the baby hardly reacted to his manhandling. She was lovely to behold. There were already tusks of red hair visible on her little head. Benjen and Rodrik both strained to catch a peek of her.

“Congratulations big brother. I predict she will be a beauty when she grows up. In a few years, you will have to use all your cunning to keep the suitors at bay. Not to mention all the ravens you will receive from the great houses petitioning for marriage alliances.” Benjen grinned at his brother. “Better you than me.”  
His face turned more serious. “I am glad Catelyn is ok though.”

“Me too, brother, without a doubt, me too.” Ned still beamed, his eyes never wavering from his daughter’s face. It had taken him some time to get Catelyn with child again. Robb would be celebrating his fourth name day in a few days. Catelyn had suffered a miscarriage two year ago, so this little one was truly very welcome. He focussed on the bundle in his arms again, starting to feel a suspicious moist sensation on his forearm. He decided to walk towards the nursery in search of female assistance. In the corridor he motioned a guard to come closer and instructed him to go and fetch Robb. “Tell my son to come in and clean himself up. Then he should report to the nursery”, he ordered the guard whose eyes were drawn to the little bundle in his Lord’s arms.  
“Of course, My Lord. I will send the little Lord up straight away. And congratulations My Lord!”, the guard said deferentially tearing his eyes away from the sight of the cute baby and hurried in the direction of the courtyard.

Ned resumed his trip to the nursery. He looked forward to introducing his son and daughter to each other.

***

The next day Lord Stark summoned Maester Luwin to his solar. He felt on top of things again. It was time to throw himself back into his duties. 

“Good morning Maester, I need you to prepare messages to the Lords of the North.” Ned started the conversation before the Maester could close the door. “We can announce the birth of my daughter but use the opportunity to add extra info in the scrolls. I want to arrange a meeting. It’s high time we reconvene to check on the different stages of our reinforcement efforts and plan for the next steps. In the message destined for Ironrath ask Gregor Forrester whether he is prepared to host the meeting this time. Do not forget to ask Lord Manderly to send a messenger out to contact Lord Reed at Greywater Watch immediately. Reed should at least send a representative to our meeting if he cannot come himself.”

“I will get right on to it, my Lord.”, Luwin bowed and started to leave the room before reconsidering. “I presume we will send out messages to the Red Keep and The Vale as well? The message to the Tullys has already been sent as requested.”

“Yes send a message to the Vale but only with the news that I have a daughter and she and my wife are healthy. As for a message to King Robert, I don’t know.” Ned frowned, his good mood having all but left him.  
“I suppose it can not be helped.” Ned sighed. “I only fear it will result in another invitation to come to Kingslanding. I am running out of excuses to turn King Robert down with, so as not to cause a permanent rift. I worry that if I keep refusing his invitations, one day the King will turn up at Winterfell without notice.” 

Ned went over to the window and looked down at his son who was playing outside with some wooden toys, not a care in the world. He addressed Maester Luwin once more. “Yes, do send out a raven to the Red Keep but keep it formal and as brief as possible. Best send out ravens to a representative of each of the Kingdoms as well. You know, The Martells, The Tyrells, Renly and Stannis Baratheon, … You know better than me. It is not necessary to send one to Pyke. Thank you Maester.” 

Robb was still playing in the courtyard but had spotted his father. He smiled at his father waving with great enthusiasm. Ned waved back and turned away from the window, his spirits lifting once more. ‘Time to tackle the agenda for the coming meeting and I must not forget to look in on my wife and daughter.’ Ned sat back down at his desk and started to study the drawings of the harbour expansions.

 

**Interlude3: Summerhall**

**Somewhere in the Stormlands.**

“Gods it was hot”. Years living on an island where there was always at least a refreshing breeze had made him forget how much heat a blistering sun could generate in the middle of the day this far inland, this far south. Ser Arthur mopped his brow for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was alone, but somehow that was a nice change. For once he didn’t bare the responsibility for someone’s life, for the life of someone of humongous importance.

Four years ago at the Tower of Joy the three of them had unanimously decided to withdraw from public life in the Seven Kingdoms and to dedicate themselves solely to protect the new-born King and help him reclaim his throne when he was old enough to stake his claim. They had been prepared to do anything necessary, even ally themselves with the Starks. It had been a calculated gamble. Ser Gerold had been steadfast in his belief that for Eddard Stark family meant everything. ‘Wolves protected their pack at all cost. And the baby is his family’, Gerold had argued. 

And he had been right. Hells, Lord Stark had instantly hurried to the far south of the Seven Kingdoms upon receipt of a vague anonymous message the three of them had decided to send him, revealing the area where his sister could be found. It had been easy for Ser Gerold to covertly approach him and unite him with Lyanna. Ser Gerold still relished in narrating every detail of how he had confronted Lord Stark that night. 

Lord Stark and Howland Reed hadn’t recognised Ser Gerold Hightower at first. Well it was dark and he had disguised himself. But still, afterwards Lord Stark had told Ser Arthur he still couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t known straight away who had accosted him that night near the stables of that inn in Dorne. Upon learning that Ser Gerold could guide them to his sister who was very ill, but that discretion was paramount, Ned Stark and Howland Reed had agreed to follow him to the Tower of Joy forthwith without alerting the rest of their travelling party who where resting at the inn unaware they had been temporarily abandoned by there liege lord. 

It had been a heartbreaking scene that greeted Ser Arthur when he had left his post and had set foot in the room a few moments after granting entrance to the two Northerners. Ned Stark was sitting on his knees next to her bed. A feverish Lyanna although hardly conscious seemed to recognize her brother. She had taken his hand and had beseeched him with her last few breaths to protect her new-born son. Ned had been devastated and bewildered. His eyes had found the wet nurse who stood in the corner with a small baby in her hands and was sobbing quietly. Then he saw the blood staining the furs. Unable to utter a single word, he had desperately held her small hands in his and had silently nodded to his sister so she would understand he promised to do as she requested. 

It seemed that Lyanna had successfully staved off death until she could see her son safely cared for by family. Her last words were spoken so softly that Ned had to lean over and put his ear to her mouth to be able to hear them: “His name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryn”. And Lyanna had released her last breath.

 

Ser Arthur still recalled the heated debate that ensued later in a room at ground level before reaching a consensus everybody could live with.  
Lord Stark had been adamant. The boy belonged with him. He would bring him to Winterfell and proclaim him his son. He would forsake his honour and admit he had betrayed his wife and sired a bastard during the war. His nephew would grow up alongside his true children. Aegon wouldn’t want for anything. 

The three Kingsguard had been appalled. Their King growing up with the stigma of a bastard hanging over his head, unacceptable! Furthermore, they could not let him go anywhere without them. They were sworn to protect him. And if they followed him to Winterfell anyone who had a lick of sense would immediately put two and two together. Aegon and everyone who had helped hide him would be in mortal danger. King Robert’s hate for Targaryens was outrageous.

They seemed at an impasse. Several possibilities were suggested and rejected out of hand, the free cities with the other Targaryens being one of them. But all of a sudden, Howland Reed who had stayed out of the discussion until then had offered a possible solution. After some tweaking, a plan was agreed upon and the rest was history. Howland Reed had accompanied them on their journey to the Driftmark. Ned Stark had reluctantly left his nephew in their hands and had returned to the inn. The next morning he would pick up Lyanna’s body with his entire entourage and bring his sister back to Winterfell to be buried in the crypts of her ancestral home.

And in one fell swoop, Ser Arthur’s life had changed immeasurably. One day he was a famous Kingsguard, acclaimed to be the best swordsman in the Seven Kingsdoms bearing the honourable title of “Sword of the Morning”, the next day he was forced to live under an assumed name disguised as a modest war veteran on a small island trying to keep a low profile not daring to reach out to his family who were mourning his loss.

Almost five years he had been living like that now, first in the Driftmark and recently at Greywater Watch in the Neck. But Ser Arthur didn’t regret the choices they had made that fateful day. Quite the opposite really. He had come to love the little boy-King and was convinced that he could become an excellent ruler with the right guidance. The boy had his heart in the right place, could already reign in his temper most of the time and showed intelligence beyond his years. Yes, he was prepared to make any sacrifice necessary to do right by his true King.

Ser Arthur’s stopped his reminiscing. He had arrived. The ruins of Summerhall were before him.

‘Let’s see if Lord Reed is right about this and I haven’t come all this way on a wild goose chase.’  
Another benefit of allying themselves with the North had been the strange premonitions of Lord Reed. He called himself a ‘greenseer’. Ser Arthur wasn’t at all sure he understood entirely what that entailed, but he knew that Lord Reed had been instrumental in thwarting the little birds and spies until now. His warnings had helped them escape detection on several occasions.  
‘Well let’s hope his so-called vision of the eggs also proves true.’ Ser Arthur was sent on this mission solo since discretion was of the utmost importance. Lord Reed had dreamt that the three dragon eggs were still somewhere at Summerhall. He had explained that in his dreams he had seen the eggs lying somewhere in a kind of cave beneath the ruins. He had even claimed that at the time of the dream he had felt a premonition that the eggs were somehow destined for Aegon. 

‘It could make sense that the eggs are still here. I know of rumours that the fired that destroyed Summerhall had been caused by an attempt to hatch the dragon eggs. Perhaps the floor collapsed and the eggs disappeared beneath it? Nobody lived to tell the tale.’ Arthur pondered.  
He entered the ruins ready to start his search.

He had been searching for a day an a half and had been over every nook and cranny of these damn caves twice. He was about to give up when suddenly a ray of sunlight shone through a crack in the cave wall and showed him the way to an alcove he had missed when he had inspected that corner twice before. Ser Arthur felt a sense of calm enveloping him. It suddenly felt as if the Gods were guiding him, that he was meant to succeed in this quest. And lo and behold, there they were. He kneeled in front of the alcove and marvelled at the sight before him. Three eggs sparkled in the sunlight. Each one was unique in its own beauty. One egg was a blend of shades of green, the middle one was silvery and the last one was a shiny black. 

Ser Arthur remained kneeling in front of the eggs for quite some time. He couldn’t believe it. How had these eggs not been discovered before? They were probably some of the most important artefacts in the Seven Kingdoms.  
Finally he emerged from his stupor and very delicately removed the eggs from their hiding place. Now the only thing he needed to do was to get them safely to Greywater Watch without anyone finding out where he had been and what he was he carrying.  
‘A piece of cake compared to what I’ve faced before, at least I hope it will be.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: conspiracy meetings and an interlude in Kingslanding


	5. Conspiring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several meetings of our co-conspirators take place at Greywater watch, a few moons after the Greyjoy Rebellion.  
> We get a glimpse of Kingslanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main chapter makes a time jump. I am eager to arrive at the point in my story where I can get Jon to actively take part and become the leader of this band of conspirators.  
> I hope you do not find long meetings boring. These men have a lot to discuss.
> 
> The interlude will be a flash back. 
> 
> This is my longest chapter yet. Enjoy!

**Greywater Watch, Lord Reed’s solar**

Lord Reed watched them enter his solar one by one: Benjen, Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, Lord Manderly, and Ned Stark. Ned was the last one to sit down. Howland could clearly see the contentment on Ned’s face. Ned had spent the day with Jon, taking in every part of his nephew’s daily schedule and had closely observed the boy’s interactions with his teachers, the servants and the visitors. To Howland it had been obvious. Lord Stark had not only been evaluating the progress of Jon’s education, he had also been trying to make out Jon’s character and determining his social skills. Apparently he was more than satisfied with the outcome.

The chairs were arranged in a small circle. It was done deliberately to encourage all participants to take an active part in the meeting. The servants quickly provided everyone with refreshments and closed the doors. Lord Reed as their host at Greywater Watch would direct the meeting.  
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Howland opened the meeting. “We have a lot to discuss. We will follow Lord’s Stark’s agenda for this meeting. First up is the situation in the North. Lord Stark, can you elaborate, please?”

Ned nodded his head. He turned to the two Kingsguards who were seated next to each other. “First I want to ask if I can count on you two to bring Ser Oswell up to speed? I consider it vital he also knows the status of things and agrees with any action we will decide upon during these meetings. Can you please relay to him that he can voice his opinion on anything he deems necessary? Also please task him to be present at the final meeting that will take place in two days’ time, perhaps Ser Arthur can take on guard duties then?” He looked questioningly at each of them.

Ser Gerold spoke up, “That goes without saying Lord Stark. We have no secrets between the three of us and Ser Oswell is assertive enough to find a way to voice his grievances should he have any.”  
Ser Arthur smiled at the speech of his Lord Commander and nodded his assent as well. “We will arrange it so”, he confirmed his willingness to take over guard duty from Oswell when the final meeting would take place.

Ned started his report. “First there is the shoring up of the Northern defences. All important strongholds have implemented our instructions. The larger project of rebuilding Moat Cailin and man it is almost halfway completed. Shortly we will be able to seal off that entrance to the North effectively should the Crown declare war on us. At the moment over five hundred men are camped out there, a mixture of builders, other craftsman and soldiers. We are in the process of recruiting smallfolk willing to settle there and farm the lands around the stronghold. We expect the first families to arrive in a few moons.”

“Our eastern and western coastlines have also upped their defences. Another item we can cross of our list. We have paid extra attention to the west coast, as discussed. Although hopefully, now that the Greyjoys are soundly defeated, there will be a significant decrease in raiding partings from the Ironborn.”  
“The first shipments of glass have arrived from Essos and we will begin expanding our glass gardens to grow more food. As we discussed at previous meetings, it is necessary to prepare for the possibility that we could be cut off from the South for a period of time once make we make our play.  
Should anyone need any more details about this, don’t hesitate to ask me, either now or later.” Eddard Stark paused for a bit looking around but since no one spoke up he resumed his account.

“I have been able to keep our real motive hidden from the Northern Lords so far, present company excepted of course.” He smiled and Howland saw him direct a look at Lord Manderly and then Ned looked straight at him. Ned resumed is monologue. “But it has not been easy and it won’t be long before we will have to review our decision to keep it from them for another few years.”

“I know secrecy is necessary to keep Jon safe, but we must also consider that the Lords of the North could be offended to have been kept out of the loop for so long and it could compromise their support for our cause.” Ned was not done explaining his point of view. “It is not the first time that I have told you all that although they are completely loyal to me, it is not a given that they will follow me blindly in supporting a half Stark half Targaryen boy’s claim to the Iron Throne, especially if it could lead to calling the banners and possible bloodshed. But let’s table this topic for our next meeting. Let us first focus on easier topics.”

Lord Howland took up his role as moderator.  
“Next up is the status of the Wildling situation at the Wall. I believe Benjen Stark is best placed to inform us of the newest developments.” Howland turned to the younger Stark brother and gestured him to take the floor. 

Benjen straightened himself. He mimicked his brother’s serious tone of voice and gave an account of his last visit at the wall.  
“Jeor Mormont expressed his thanks once more for our ongoing support. He relays the gratefulness of some old recruits who can tell the difference between the past compared to the last ten years. It has been a long time since The Night’s Watch has had enough financial resources and recruits coming in regularly for such a long stretch of time. ”

“They have enough funds to renovate Castle Black and make a few of the long deserted castles along the Wall habitable once more. The steady influx of recruits has reached the point that they have enough men to split their forces between more watch points. Also, during my last visit I experienced first hand that the quality of the food and drink has improved considerably. The ale they served me even tasted like ale. The men visibly dress better and look cleaner now.” Benjen’s discourse lightened the mood visibly since smiles appeared for the first time since the meeting had started.

“However scouts keep reporting large Wildling tribes migrating from the higher North to settlements closer to the wall. Mormont is monitoring the situation closely. A little bit over two moons ago a party of twelve Wildlings made it across the wall and created a lot of havoc before they were halted. I can assure you, it takes a lot of balls to climb an ice structure of 700 feet tall. I can’t fathom that stealing a few pieces of cattle and harassing our people is enough of a motivation to endanger your life like that. It raises questions.”

“I suggested sending someone beyond the wall to infiltrate the Wildings and live among them for a time to find out whatever motivates this significant change in their behaviour. However, the Lord Commander rejected my idea. He argued that it is too dangerous and that the situation is not dire enough to order a valuable ranger into such a life threatening situation.”  
Benjen took a breath and looked at his brother. “A good argument, I must admit. Besides, he is the one calling the shots at the wall. We can only offer our support?”

“He’s right.” His brother offered. “The Wildlings beyond the Wall are the responsibility of the Night’s Watch. However”, his voice took on authority. “If the Lord Commander cannot keep them contained and they reach our lands then it is our North and my people that will be in danger. The people of the North are my responsibility. And if the Wildlings continue to successfully scale the Wall, I will be obligated to interfere and Jeor Mormont will have to relent and coordinate with us.” He looked at everyone present to gauge their reaction and continued.

“That’s why I propose to keep up the regular visits of my brother, Benjen Stark to the Night’s Watch. We need to keep a close eye on this. Besides we require access to Maester Aemon. He has already been instrumental in providing guidance to Jon and we will need his counsel even more in the future. Maester Aemon still keeps some ‘Targaryen secrets’ he will only divulge to a Targaryen in person. But that’s a topic for another time.” He deflected.

“If you can all agree that this is the only immediate action we can take and find it sufficient for the time being, we can move on to the next topic, namely the building of a naval fleet to support our future king.”

“Lord Manderly?” Howland directed everyone's attention to the Northern Lord who had been silent so far. “Can you give a status report, please?“

Lord Manderly seemed to grow in size. He cleared his throat and looked around making sure he had everyone’s attention.  
“As you all know, the future royal fleet is being built at separate locations to avoid detection. At White Harbour a hundred new ships are ready and twenty more are under construction. Our most pressing problem is finding adequate crewmen. The North has never had much of a fleet and sailing is not in our blood. So any input you have to solve this issue is welcome. But first let me tell you what has been happening at the other locations.”

“The Skagosi have also been busy. That small community has almost finished building fifty ships. Bear Island, as predicted was most adamant to help as well. They have already twenty ships to lend to our cause, and five more under construction. Word from Riverrun told me that they support the North by donating fifty ships, complete with crew. We will only have to bear the cost of their wages. I guess we have to thank Lady Catelyn for her influence here.” Lord Manderly smiled at his liege Lord. “There is however the practical problem of getting them moved from Seagard past the Ironborn.” 

Ser Gerold held up his hand. “If I may speak?” Lord Manderly paused and gestured him to continue.  
“It would be a strategic advantage to have some ships at that particular coastline. We will need to defend that part of the Seven Kingdoms as well. The Ironborn are still a threat. Not on a large scale but their guerrilla styled attacks can create enough of a nuisance. I would suggest to take command of them but to use them on location, at least for the time being. It is still unclear how our forces will have to be deployed when our King stakes his claim. It will also help persuade the smallfolk when it is revealed that the True King has been protecting their shores for some time and that he already cares for all his potential subjects.  
Perhaps we can agree to leave them there for the time being and revisit this discussion when it is more pertinent?”

Lord Manderly took over once more. “I think we can agree on that for now.”  
Since everyone kept silent he continued. “Let me just finish my status report. At the Driftmark another small fleet is under construction. If all goes right, by the end of the year they will have 50 ships including crew, all bought and paid for by Lord Stark’s mysterious war fund. Combined we will have almost three hundred ships at the end of the year. Not a small feat to accomplish in the North.” He smiled proudly. “Should we need more vessels in the future, I think we should consider buying some in Essos. We could keep them docked over there until we need them, so as not to arouse too much suspicion. For the time being the ships are kept in secluded parts of the harbours. As far has I have been able to ascertain, no questions are being raised and in the North, the smallfolk’s only reaction is gratefulness that there are an abundance of paid jobs for everyone. If there is talk about the new ships in the taverns, it is only to comment on how the new ships surely are going to be necessary to trade with the Reach and Essos once the seasons turn, because winter is coming.” He smiled at Lord Stark.

This time is was Ser Arthur who raised his hand. Lord Manderly made an encouraging gesture.  
“I think I have a suggestion for your lack of seamen. We could recruit on Dragonstone. I know for a fact that there are a lot of ex sailors now living as smallfolk on that island unhappy with their current circumstances and would be glad to be able to take up their old profession, even more so once they eventually learn they will be sailing under the flag with the three headed dragon once more. But you cannot send one of us. We would be recognized immediately. We should send someone else.” Ser Arthur finished.

Lord Stark looked over to Howland Reed and seeing him nod took over again. “Thank you Ser Arthur. That is an excellent suggestion. It also happens to bring us to the next point of our agenda: manpower. I think we ought to consider expanding our little circle. We are stretched too thin as it is and there is still a lot to be accomplished. We are not yet halfway through the items that need to be discussed and I am certain more actions will be decided upon over the next few days that will require one of us to take an active part.” 

“I know that we need to tread carefully and I know that I am the one who is always arguing that it is unfair to have more people know of our future King’s secret while he himself has no inkling of who he is.  
However it cannot be helped, we need more helping hands. And there are things we can’t ask of people without giving proper motivation. The best example is sitting here right in front of us.” Lord Stark pointed at Lord Manderly. “I couldn’t possibly have made him Master of three hundred ships without explaining our purpose.” 

“Everyone will have to be vetted and we will try to move forward only when we are unanimous in our decision. I’m going to list some candidates and you can take your time deciding. We do not need to reach a consensus today. And if you would have other suggestions, you can bring them up during one of our next meetings here.” Ned coughed. All that talking was made him thirsty. He sipped from his ale before starting his enumeration.

“First I propose we consider bringing Davos Seaworth into the fold. If you recall, he was the captain on the ship who initially brought Jon from Dorne to the Driftmark nine years ago. He is a wise and loyal man. His wife is related to Lord Reed’s wife. If we can persuade him to join us, he will be a great asset in recruiting the right persons to man our boats. Furthermore his smuggling skills can come in handy. I think I can safely say Lord Reed will vouch for him as well.”  
Everyone looked at Lord Reed who nodded his head to signal his assent.

“Next, I think we could buy the services of Sandor Clegane.” Ned paused because he saw startled looks all around. “Please let me explain my motivations.” He pleaded.  
“We need someone with his skills. I know he seems like a rough uncouth guy. He is also a seasoned fighter not afraid to kill if necessary, but one with his heart in the right place and fiercely protective of the weak. I think he can be persuaded to help the younger half brother of the two murdered royal children. He is one of the only ones who openly dares to object when the subject is discussed, a fact which endears him to me for obvious reasons. I am confident that with the right approach we can get him to swear himself to our cause. And once he is into the fold, we will have his unwavering loyalty. That’s the kind of man he really is. Think on that as well.”

“My third candidate is Ser Barristan Selmy. This however will require an even subtler approach. If he knew that Rhaegar’s son lived, he would want to protect him. However, he would need to break his current oath in order to do just that. He will be at a loss how to get himself out of his predicament in an honourable way and I fear he will not be able to reach a satisfying solution on his own. Here I would like your input.” Eddard Stark looked over to Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur. “You know him better than me. My suggestion would be to ease him into it. He would not need to leave Robert Baratheon’s service immediately. He could be our eyes and ears in Kingslanding at first. That way he would need not to do any direct harm to the Baratheon reign. Just bring us some information. Do you think one of you could get him to agree on that?” 

Ser Arthur was deep in thought. He looked over to Ser Gerold and suggested hesitantly. “I would start with cryptic messages waking his conscience. Then one of us could meet him incognito in a tavern he frequents in Fleabottom. We can then gauge his reaction to knowing one of us is alive for a few days to see whether he will betray that information to the small council. It will give us a clue on how best to proceed next.  
My guess is”, Ser Arthur exchanged another look with Ser Gerold before reiterating, “My guess is, he will need some time to really come to terms with his situation. He will lament that he was the one being stuck on the Trident and will feel remorse about his decision to swear his oath to King Robert on the spot. But in the end I am confident that he will decide to support Rhaegar’s son.” Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold were of one mind it seemed. Howland saw them exchange reassuring glances.

Lord Reed interrupted. “Lord Stark, have you considered Varys as a possible spy for us in Kingslanding? I have told you before that my premonitions seem to favour that. They tell me the argument of Jon being a better ruler for the realm, a protector of the weak would get him on board. This could free up Ser Barristan. He could disappear from Kingslanding and either join us or travel to Essos to coordinate Daenerys Targaryen’s protection. The man would be a vast deal happier.”

Lord Stark seemed to mull this over. The others also did not know if they were willing to trust Varys yet.  
Lord Reed broke the stalemate. “Let’s table this for one of our last meetings this sennight. Just consider it a possibility.” He addressed Lord Stark. “You had more candidates?”

Ned looked relieved the subject was dropped and he could finish his own list of candidates.  
“Lastly”, he spoke up, “This will be my strangest suggestion yet. We could try to contact Oberyn Martell.”

Everyone looked at Lord Stark not believing their ears. Even Howland had not seen this coming.  
“Are you serious Lord Stark?” He was the first one to find his speech. The others were still staring at the Warden of the North, their mouths wide open.  
“Jon is living proof of Rhaegar casting aside Elia, a reminder of the insult to their house. I thought our scheme to hand the Mountain over to them and to neutralise Tywin Lannister was to buy their neutrality in the possible coming conflict, but to reveal them our secret? That’s taking an unacceptable risk!” He exclaimed, still a bit chafed that his own suggestion had not been welcomed although they knew his premonitions had always steered them in the right direction.

The others looked uneasy but Lord Stark was not perturbed.  
“I am not talking of bringing Dorne into our scheme. I am talking of the Red Viper. We all know he is a rebel at heart and a free spirit as far as he can get away with it. I speculate that he will love being in on something this huge and keep it a secret from Prince Doran. I also know he hates the passive approach Doran Martell always chooses. Prince Oberyn loves to act, to bring things in motion. My guess is, he will relish the opportunity to show his brother that being impetuous can at times harvest great results. Of course, we will only allow him to inform Doran Martell when everything is about to be brought out in the open.”  
“As for his possible animosity towards a child of Rhaegar with Lyanna, I trust in Jon to solve that problem. He will charm Oberyn within mere moments of meeting him. The Red Viper will not know what hit him. Besides I also put my trust in the fact that he is a sucker for lost causes. To aid another possible victim of the King that condoned butchering his kin, could have some appeal to him. Jon can’t help who his mother is and he would have been a half brother to Oberyn’s niece and nephew.” 

He took a deep breath before continuing.  
“Benjen has been informing us during previous meetings how much Prince Oberyn has been travelling these last few years as well. Dorne desperately wants to now what happened to Tywin Lannister and they still don’t know who sent them the Mountain. Well perhaps they are starting to suspect the North but they are still none the wiser as to why. I think Prince Oberyn will be glad to finally get a clue and will be amenable to keep things from his brother for now. Still, I suggest we try to get him to visit either here or at the Driftmark when Jon is visiting there.”

Lord Stark paused seemingly having found a new idea and was considering it for a moment. Then he resumed. “The Driftmark will arouse less suspicion. Perhaps plan for an extended stay there. The Celtigar widow will be glad to see her alleged grandchild once more.”  
Ned quickly glanced at the two knights before addressing the next question to them. “What do you think about organising a visit to the Driftmark for Jon? Benjen could accompany you as well.” He didn’t pause to let them to respond however.

“Let’s arrange an accidental meeting between Prince Oberyn and Jon. Let the boy work his magic. When he has charmed the Prince, someone can start throwing bones at the Red Viper, subtle at first and scrutinize his reaction. Before we tell him anything vital we will ask for his word of honour. If we still have doubts, we can wait a few moons to see if he tells anyone. Only if we deem his behaviour satisfying enough, we can proceed with our plan to reveal more. At least this is my suggestion.”

Lord Manderly silently asked permission and spoke up. “We all know Prince Oberyn is fiercely loyal to Dorne. Dorne is hardly a part of the Seven Kingdoms. Why would he pick our side over Dorne?”

“We wouldn’t ask him to.” Eddard Stark immediately retorted. “We would guarantee him a political status quo for Dorne.”

Now it was Ser Gerold who made a gesture to interfere.  
“Are we entitled to make promises of such political importance? Isn’t that for our King to decide? Shouldn’t we try and postpone such negotiations until he can be part of them? He should have a chance to make or refuse the commitment himself!” Ser Gerold was really passionate about this.

Now Benjen Starke spoke up.  
“He has a point there brother. Well, I would propose to let us sleep on it and we will discuss this further when we all have had time to weigh all the pros and cons. You’ve had the opportunity to think on this for moons.” He hesitantly smiled at his brother, a silent excuse for not choosing his side immediately. “Give us at least a little time to do the same.” He pleaded.

Howland saw everyone agreeing with Benjen Stark and Ned slumping back into his chair, thoughtfully sipping his ale. Howland decided to intervene.

“Perhaps it is time to take a short break and get some fresh air. What do you say? We could reconvene here afterwards.” 

That suggestion was met with enthusiasm and everyone moved outdoors.

***

Howland Reed had followed Lord Stark who had been walking some distance before he reached a secluded spot. A fallen tree provided a suitable opportunity to sit down in a dry spot. The two of them sat down leaving enough space between them to comfortable seat two.  
“How are the children, Ned?” Howland asked looking sideways at Ned starting a topic that would hopefully get him to relax.

 

“They’re all fine and getting along. Robb likes to train more than to study. But then he is a boy.” Ned smiled, images of his children popping up in his mind. “Sansa is a miniature little lady. Only five and she copies everything Cat does. She makes this perfect little bow when she greets people. I already told you she used to playact that she’s a mother to Arya instead of using a doll? Well, lately Arya has started to rebel against that. Mind you, she’s just turned three. I look at Arya and I am reminded of Lyanna. That little girl is the first of my children that has the Stark look. Now that I come to think of it, she looks a lot like Jon. They both resemble Lyanna. Sometimes it makes me feel melancholic to watch one of my youngest daughter’s antics. “ 

Howland saw Ned make an effort to regroup. He once more tried to redirect Ned’s thoughts. “And your youngest, Brandon you called him if I recall correctly?”  
That put the smile firmly back on Ned’s face. “He’s doing great! He’s growing up so fast. He is already taller than Arya though she is a year older than him. His wet nurse complains that she needs eyes on her back to keep him safe. He is constantly climbing on things. He’s very inventive. He climbs on a chair, moves onto the table and then scales even higher to some shelves that are positioned at a dangerous height for a two year old, simply to reach for something that has caught his eye. He has already had some close calls but is seemingly too young to understand us when we forbid him to do it again. Either that or he won’t listen. “

Howland saw Ned shifting his focus to him. “Never mind my children, how are yours? Meera must be six by now and Jojen, I guess he must be three?”  
“That’s right. They are doing fine as well. I think Meera has a little girl’s crush on Jon. It is so cute to see her trying to get his attention at meals or in between lessons. Jojen on the other hand is a dreamer and can be found by himself more often than in company, which is strange in one so young. But I suppose each child has its own personality and we parents need to find the best way to direct them towards a valiant path in life.” 

Howland saw Ned nod in response.  
Ned contemplated, “I have four children every one of them is unique. I guess if the Gods are willing to grant me another, it will turn out to be substantially different from his siblings as well.”  
“Do you think it is about time to head back inside?” Howland inquired suddenly conscious that they had been outside for some time now. “Look at us, two proud fathers loosing track of time bragging about our children’s exploits. Our women should see us now.” Howland chuckled.

“I think is time, yes. Let’s head that way and we’ll surely encounter the others. But before we do, I would like to arrange a small meeting, just Benjen you and me. Perhaps we could break our fast tomorrow in private? I would like your input on some things I would rather not discuss in our entire group before I am clearer on my own take on them. I even want to ask you when or even if we should bring these topics in the open anyway or whether it is better to keep them in the dark, going against our initial intentions of keeping everyone up to date.”

Howland was sure he had a good idea of what it was that Ned was struggling with. “Of course Ned, I will arrange it. You just need to inform your brother.”  
Howland and Ned walked in companionable silence towards the castle.

***

**Some time later back in the solar.**

“You have all seen that Jon is making big strides in his swords play.” Howland Reed was discussing Jon now.

“Indeed”, Ser Arthur took over from him, “Jon knows the basic moves well enough. Although he often complains he hardly ever has a ‘real’ adversary and is mostly swinging in the air or hacking at straw puppets. But taking all this time to teach him the basics is clearly paying off. I can state with absolute certainty that he will have a strong stance and in time will be able to move on instinct so he can concentrate entirely on his opponent in a real fight. As far as you can say this of a ten year old, in my opinion Jon has the potential to be more than a decent sword fighter. He is light on his feet and shows an aptitude to guess the next move of his opponent. I am more than satisfied with his progress so far. I think our little King will amaze us in later years.”

“I think we can all agree on that, having seen him train this morning.” Lord Stark uttered. Howland saw nods all around.  
“Any other aspects of his education that need to be discussed today? As far as I can tell he is doing well on all topics, the Maester finds him a most diligent pupil. He shows interest in politics, and already picks up on the nuances of the intricate relationships between the houses. He is also impressed at his fluency in High Valerian. It was a good idea to raise him in both languages as soon as he learned to speak. The Celtigars did right by him. Another visit there would benefit the community at the Driftmark as well. They will all be glad to see him again.”

Ser Gerold was the one who answered. “We’ll discuss the logistics of such a trip between the three of us. But it could be done I suppose. I would suggest travelling in larger company just to be safe. And Jon will want to bring his dog along as well.” Howland, Eddard and Benjen shared meaningful looks at that last statement.

“I would conclude that his education is going better than expected and see no need to discuss this further at this point in time. “ Howland Reed tried to move the meeting along. He was getting tired.

We still need to discuss how to handle the other Kingdoms. And how to check in on Viserys and Daenerys in the free cities, make sure that they have enough funds and are safe for now.  
Let’s start with the Reach, shall we? If it gets too late we can postpone the rest until we reconvene tomorrow late afternoon.”  
Ser Manderly started to discuss his contacts in that area and the meeting continued for a while. 

***

 

Breakfast was a large assortment consisting mostly of bread and vegetables. ‘These crannogmen take their connection to nature really to all levels of their life.’ Benjen scanned the various choices trying to make a selection. The others were already seated at the table of a secluded chamber in the eastern corner of the keep. The morning sun partly successful in breaking through the light fog hanging over the swamps, made the small space look more inviting. 

“Well Ned”, Howland was allowed to be more informal with Lord Stark while in private. They had been through so much together already and were intimate friends rather than Liege Lord and vassal. “Let’s hear it. What did you want to discuss this morning.”

Ned turned towards him with a serious look in his eyes.  
“Several decisions I am struggling with actually. I’ve been over them with Benjen a few times but we do not think entirely alike on them.  
“Let’s start with the easier one. Benjen suggests fostering Robb for a few moons, perhaps a year at Greywater Watch with Jon. Let’s say after Jon's visit to the Driftmark. He thinks it would be a good idea to create a close bond between the two of them.” He looked over to Benjen.

“A friendship between the two of them would secure good relations between a re-established Dynasty and the North. Sort of what was the case with King Robert and Ned in previous years, before they were at odds.” Benjen offered as further explanation. 

“As far as King Robert and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are concerned. We have reconciled.” Ned intervened. “Everyone saw us fight side by side during the Greyjoy Rebellion. I have even promised him not to wait too long this time to visit him in Kingslanding. Things get more convoluted all the time. I am not proud of my actions toward Robert.” Ned sighed 

Benjen thought it wise to get the conversation back on track.  
“Of course, if you and your wife are amenable to taking on the care of another boy for a small period of time.” he added politely addressing Lord Reed.

“I agree on all counts.” Howland smiled. I would love to get to know Robb better and I’m sure my wife, Meera, Jojen and last but not least Jon will be elated to have such a nice addition to our little family for a while. I also agree it is vital to develop a sound relationship between the future King and the future Warden of the North.  
“What else is on your mind, Ned? I do not want to pressure you but our time this morning is limited.” Howland knew the most difficult topic still had to be raised.

“Well”, Ned seemed unsure how to phrase his next concern.

Benjen interrupted. “It’s about the magic, warging, dragons. But most of all we disagree on the fact of keeping Jon in the dark. Maester Aemon and I have discussed this. We are of a mind that Jon needs to know at the latest beginning next year. If we want to have a chance to use the dragons in the conflict, they need to have time to grow in order to be of use. And more importantly Maester Aemon is adamant that the younger Jon is when he bonds with them, the better chance he will have to control them. But we can’t let him hatch dragons if he doesn’t know what he is.”  
Benjen was determined to defend his point of view. Hiss brother had tried too long to keep him silent on this subject but he deemed Howland Reed a worthy ally in this endeavour. He was a greenseer. He was not as wary of magic as Ned was.

“But what if the eggs are just what they seem to be? What if they are just three beautiful stones?” Ned argued. “Then we will have told Jon much too soon and he will be deprived of his youth. You know him. He will not take this lightly. He will start brooding and he is much too young for all of this.” Ned pleaded.

“I humbly disagree.” Howland stated. “He has us to guide him. We will help him carry this burden. He will not be alone. And he will have time to grow into his role. What do you propose to do? Say hey Jon you are the rightful King, now claim your throne tomorrow.” Howland wasn’t mincing his words. “We have no right to take his birthright away from him. Controlling Dragons is in his blood. If we hinder this, he will probably hatch them himself when he comes of age. If he learns that he cannot develop his bond with them sufficiently enough to keep them in line, it won’t be long before he knows we are to blame for this. Do not forget, in a few years we will be subservient to him, and I mean this literally.

“Besides, if Maester Aemon tells true, we will know whether there is a possibility to hatch the eggs. He has informed us that we just need to let Jon hold them. His reaction will leave us no doubt. If he is destined to hatch the eggs, he will experience something. Maester Aemon didn’t want to get into the particulars with us, this being one of the “for Targaryen eyes only things’ a phrase he uses too often to my liking.” Benjen said with a frustrating sigh. 

“What’s keeping us from just letting Jon admire three beautiful stones and get him to hold them between his hands? We could try that and wait to say how it plays out.” Howland intervened.

“Well for one, the eggs are at the Wall for now.” Ned stalled.

“Maester Aemon won’t live forever.” Benjen countered.

He had another arrow left to point at his brother. “You were against that warging business as well. Look how that has turned out. He is in total control of several smaller animals already but doesn’t mistreat them and has never been caught using this power for the wrong reasons, except for a few small harmless pranks at the beginning.  
However I agree with Lord Reed’s suggestion to see how he reacts to ‘three beautiful stones’ and go from there.” He looked over to his brother, his stare unwavering.

“I suppose we could try that.” Ned reluctantly agreed. But I suggest we wait until Robb returns from his stay at Greywater. Jon can come along with us and travel first to Winterfell for a long overdue visit, then travel onwards to the Wall where he can meet Maester Aemon and touch those damn eggs.”  
‘That will buy me another year at least. Jon first has to visit the Driftmark and then he will spend almost a year with Rob at Greywater Watch’, Ned reassured himself. ‘He will be a bit older and will hopefully be a bit more mature before we dump this burden on him.’ 

Aloud he just said. “In the meanwhile, let us be careful when dealing with Jon. He already suspects we are hiding something from him. He has noticed Jojen isn’t being followed around by a knight every single moment as he is. I sometimes can see him trying to figure it out but not wanting to let on he suspects something so as not to get us to be even more careful about what we say to him.”

“Well there is a positive side to that as well Ned.” Howland tried to ease Ned’s mood. “You only dwell on all the negative sides of a situation. This means Jon has good instincts, even if he trusts us implicitly. He still thinks for himself. He will make a good king.” Benjen nodded enthusiastically.

“Someone has to look at the other angle.” Ned persisted. “But you are right about that though. Jon will be good for the Seven Kingdoms.” A small smile appeared on his face.

 

***

 

Several days later, Howland saw his fellow conspirators leave Greywater Watch in a single line. They had said lengthy goodbyes to Jon in the courtyard earlier. Jon had struggled to keep his emotions in check not wanting to be perceived as a little boy any longer. However he had hugged his uncle Benjen desperately. Benjen had been obliged to carefully separate himself from Jon by grasping his arms and untangling them. After that they had persuaded the boy to stay in the courtyard and to continue his drills with Ser Arthur. 

The last figures navigated a curve in their path and disappeared behind the trees. Howland went back inside. Much had been accomplished these last few days. Much more needed to be agreed upon still. He wondered how things would play out in the next few years. He would have to try and use his green dreams to detect any possible harm that their newly cemented decisions could cause. He would focus first on the potential new allies, Davos Seaworth, Sandor Clegane, Ser Barristan Selmy and Prince Oberyn, perhaps also Varys. It would not be the first time that Howland had prevented possible detection by means of his ‘sight’.

 

 

**Interlude 4: Little birds**

 

**The Red Keep, some years into King Robert’s reign**

Varys suffered a headache. The small council had been a waste of time once more. What more could you expect from that bunch of sycophants constantly striving for the King’s favour. He could hardly stand Petyr Baelish. How had that conniving whoremonger wormed its way into the small council? He was no more than an insignificant little lord of a nothing patch of land in the Fingers. Not to mention the elderly Grand Maester Pycelle who hardly contributed anything substantial but was always ready to agree with anything the King or Lord Arryn brought forward.  
On the agenda featured always more spending: another feast; another acquisition; more renovations to the Red Keep. The King and the Queen seemed to be involved in a struggle to prove who could spend the most in the shortest amount of time.  
Only Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships, when finally urged out of his silence was known to bring a bit of sense to these ridiculous gatherings. Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws was more absent than present and Mace Tyrell was just another empty headed puppet only here because the Kingdom needed to obtain the vast food resources of the Reach and to allocate a seat on the council to house Tyrell was the surest way to get an abundance of that as cheap as possible.

Several years into King Robert’s reign and the crown had already spent millions of gold dragons. Gold happily provided by Tywin Lannister until recently. Lord Lannister had been absent for some time now, allegedly taking a trip to do some business in Essos. Littlefinger was charged to find the funds for the upcoming tournament that King Robert wanted to organise yet again. The Master of Coin had just smirked and acquiesced. 

The tournament was probably another try to lure Lord Eddard Stark to the capital. Not that it would work of course. King Robert really didn’t know his best friend well. A tournament to most people of the North was just frivolous entertainment, little knights playing at war. The North didn’t knight people. Valour was proven in deeds, not with empty titles. What was more, Varys knew that Eddard Stark even if he would attend, would never participate in the tournament. No matter what prize was dangled in front of the would-be-champions. No, Eddard Stark kept his prowess with his sword close to his chest. He was not keen to give his enemies any insight on how to beat him. But Varys knew better. He was certain that Lord Stark was one of the most underrated warriors of Westeros. King Robert would have to find another way to reconnect with his former foster brother. 

Once more Varys mentally went over all the new songs his little birds had sung. It was truly frustrating. Something was stirring in the Seven Kingdoms and Varys couldn’t get a handle on it. Either there were no rumours to explain a disappearance or there were too many conflicting rumours. Varys had started to notice this a year after the Rebellion. Before, he had been able trust the information that reached him, every rumour bore at least some spark of truth and hardly needed verifying. These last few years however there were so many contradictions in the reports, it seemed his spider web was compromised. Moreover, someone was deliberately provoking him. They rubbed his nose in it. They wanted him to know that they recognised his little birds and fed them whatever false information they wanted. They were playing with him, something Baelish would do. But no, he was sure it was not Baelish. His birds reached parts of society that Litllefinger’s whores could never penetrate.

This was the first time in his career as a spymaster that Varys was at a loss. He had tried everything: doubling the number of his minions, never sending his birds to the same place more than twice, nothing helped. Sometimes he suspected some kind of magic to be involved. Something akin to the visions the Lord of Light showed his disciples in the fire? 

There were three issues where the sabotage was most prominent, three issues he had yet to resolve.  
He had all but given up on the first one. The disappearance almost four years ago of three great knights of Westeros: the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent, member of the Kingsguard. No official report could deny or confirm whether they were at the Trident that fateful day. Their bodies were never found. The greatsword Dawn had disappeared without a trace. A delegation of house Dayne had repeatedly petitioned the King to return the famous sword to their house thinking the King’s forces had confiscated it after the battle. King Robert had ordered Varys to find the sword but after all this time not the slightest whisper had reached his ears. The sword remained lost. 

His birds had sung him several possible scenarios with the kind of details that would have you believe each one of them. Varys suspected the truth was not among them.  
Varys had his own theory of course. Most likely the three had fled to Essos when all hope was lost and their Prince was floating in the Trident. The smallfolk and most nobles didn’t believe this theory. They couldn’t rhyme such dishonourable behaviour with these white knights. These three former Kingsguards were still revered as heroes in Westeros alongside Ser Barristan Selmy.  
Varys however found no dishonour in going into exile to protect the two remaining siblings of Rhaegar in the free cities. If the missing knights were still alive, they would still be loyal to the Targaryens and would show up at the hiding place of the prince and princess at some point. However nobody resembling their description had tried to contact the royal children or their entourage yet. Varys was sure. He had a lot of eyes on them in the free cities but still nothing to show for it.

Varys contemplated the plight of Ser Barristan once more. He often reminisced with the present Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and had concluded that the knight knew nothing of the whereabouts of his three former brothers. He was clearly miserable and not at all happy with the new additions King Robert had appointed to his Kingsguard. Ser Barristan also seemed wary of Jaime Lannister, the so-called kingslayer. No, Ser Barristan was a dead end as far as his investigation into this disappearance was concerned.

The second issue concerned Ser Gregor Clegane. Everybody knew of his trial in Dorne and the barbaric way in which he was finally executed. The entire realm had talked of it for moons on end. Most were secretly glad that he was finally punished. Very few agreed with the brutal killing of the innocent royal children but even fewer had dared to speak up. Now in the taverns of Fleabottom songs could be heard relating the downfall of the “baby slayer”.

Nobody however knew why Ser Gregor Clegane had apparently ventured so close to Dorne. It had been a stupid thing to do. He would surely have known how fiercely the Dornish hated him. Varys wouldn’t shed a tear about Ser Gregor but he would worry about what it all meant. His little birds had brought him too many opposing theories featuring his fate. Varys was sure that someone had made a calculated move. Someone had handed Ser Gregor Clegane to the Dornish in order to get Dorne to owe them a favour. But what or why? Varys was still no closer to solving this riddle? He suspected the North to be involved based on some descriptions of people that had visited Dorne around the time of The Mountain’s trial but couldn’t fathom why. Besides would Ned Stark really be involved in something underhanded?

When the third mystery struck Westeros, Varys had almost lost it. His pride would have been hurt if even one major issue could not be solved. But these were three major happenings that had the potential to influence the game of thrones to the detriment of the current leadership. How was he to explain the absence of Lord Tywin Lannister? 

The Warden of the West was a player. He had played the Game of Thrones impeccably until recently. He had power, he was rich, he commanded a large army and curried favour with the King since he all but paid for the King’s expenses single handed and was the King’s good fathers for crying out loud. So to just disappear, it made no sense.  
And what really worried Varys was that in this case, he had been played by someone, or some group of persons more likely, even before he had know that Lord Lannister was missing. His little birds had never sung so loud.  
Uncountable sources stated that the Warden had gone on a trading mission to Essos and would soon be back. Many others had overheard that he had gone to look for his missing relative Gerion Lannister and had probably also been captured by pirates. A theory as ridiculous as you could think up, but his birds only reported back what they heard, so someone had spread that particular rumour. 

A third theory that had popped up in Lannisport was that Tywin had contracted “the old man’s disease” and that his mind was gone. He wouldn’t even recognise his own family any longer and was a virtual prisoner at Casterly Rock since the Lannisters didn’t want the realm to know their blood could be contaminated with this hereditary disease.  
Another theory closely resembled the previous one but spoke of the “whore’s disease”.

Then there were the rumours of a kidnapping gone wrong. The kidnappers having supposedly been too rough during their interrogation, it was said that Lord Lannister had died of his wounds before the kidnappers had extracted the necessary information from him to gain entrance to the famed Lannister goldmines. This theory was the most probable in Varys’ eyes. It did make sense to kidnap a very rich guy but such an action should leave some kind of trace of the kidnappers for Varys to unearth?  
But no matter what he had tried, not a sliver of proof could be found to give credit to this theory so it was more than likely another false tale. There were a few other theories going around but they were too ridiculous to even start to investigate.  
The point of the matter however was that nothing really explained Lord Tywin’s continued absence in Kingslanding.

Strangely enough, it seemed nobody in Kingslanding seemed to worry about that. King Robert had never once asked Varys to investigate where Lord Lannister was. Well perhaps it was not that strange, seeing that King Robert still had enough gold to whore, drink and feast as much as he pleased.  
But why was there no reaction from the Lannister Queen or from her brother, the Kingslayer? In the last session of the small council nobody had even mentioned Lord Tywin’s name. Everybody seemed happy without the interfering presence of the power grabbing Warden of the West.

The only Lannister that had taken some action was Tyrion, the imp. But Tyrion played it close to his vest and didn’t confide in the Master of Whisperers. It had been up to Varys’ little birds to find traces of the investigation that Tyrion had mounted on his own behalf. Tyrion suspected something was up but didn’t know what either.

Varys had considered swallowing his pride and try to get information from Petyr Baelish, but in the end he couldn’t humiliate himself, not even as a last resort. Littlefinger probably would have heard only half of the theories that Varys himself had ferreted out with his vast network anyway. 

 

Better to focus on other matters for now. There was all that movement in the North, boats, glass houses, Moat Cailin, Benjen Stark’s constant travels for the Night’s Watch.  
Then there was Dorne’s restlessness. Oberyn Martell had been poking around Kingslanding a few times and even exchanged information with Varys. Only nothing had come up that had helped shed a light on his most pressing issues.  
And last but not least, there was the issue of the new location of the Targaryen children in Essos. If Varys could trust his little birds, the North was involved somehow. 

It seemed the North had some vague, unconfirmed connection to all his open issues. No matter how unlikely each theory was separately, Varys didn’t believe in coincidences. He made the mental note to intercept Benjen Stark somehow when the man next visited the capital on official Night’s Watch business. He would also reach out to Prince Oberyn. The Prince had mentioned an encounter with the younger Stark sibling.

Varys would bide his time. Patience was his strong suit. In time his birds would sing the correct songs or he would get his information from other sources, be it Benjen Stark, Oberyn Martell or another idea that would strike him soon. Varys felt a little better and decided to start with tracking Benjen Stark’s movements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon and Robb live together at Greywater Watch for some time.  
> The interlude will be a future glimpse of Daenerys and Jon.


	6. Friends or family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Robb become friends  
> Dany gets to meet Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the main chapter Jon and Robb are ten going on eleven namedays old.  
> The interlude is a glimpse of the future

**Greywater Watch**

Jon got out of his bed and looked out of the window. After a sennight with nothing but rain, he could see the sun trying to break through the clouds. He smiled. Today would be a great day. Today would be the first day since his new friend’s arrival that they would be able to venture outside. 

 

One day, a few moons after Jon’s sixth name day the Warden of the North had arrived for an official visit to house Reed at Greywater watch. The first time Jon saw Lord Eddard Stark, Jon had been training in the yard. His obligatory lesson had been finished but Jon was repeating the moves he had learned. Lord Stark had startled him when he had interrupted Jon’s movements. He had given him some pointers to ameliorate his stance. 

Jon had been struck mute by the commanding presence of the man. To him the Lord of Winterfell looked larger than life. However Lord Stark had been patient and kind to Jon. After a few moments Jon had been able to stammer a greeting and a thank you.

This was the start of their strange relationship. The great Lord, whose visit lasted for two sennights that time, would often seek Jon out. He could also be seen talking to Jon’s ever present shadows. After a few days, Jon had shed his shy reluctance and had started to open up. 

Jon had found out that Lord Stark was the big brother of his ‘Uncle’ Benjen. Did that make him kind of an ‘uncle’ to him as well? Was that why he wants to get to know me? He had wondered about this more than once. 

One morning shortly after breaking their fast, Lord Stark had invited Jon for a trip to the Godswood of Greywater Watch. They had walked side by side, both soaking up the peaceful atmosphere of this sacred place. No words had been needed. After a while Lord Stark had invited Jon to sit down against a beautiful weirwood tree and did the same.

“This must be the finest Godswood in the entire realm.” He had said quietly to Jon.  
“The Godswood in Winterfell is impressive as well, but here it feels as if the presence of the Old Gods is even stronger. At least that is what I feel deep down.“  
He looked over to his nephew. “Benjen told me you worship the Old Gods as well?”

Jon had simply nodded. Lord Stark had stayed silent so Jon felt safe to elaborate.  
“Lord Reed is a very inspiring teacher and when Uncle Benjen is at Greywater Watch he always asks me to accompany him on his visits to the Godswood. He was the one who showed me how to pray. His Gods have become my Gods. When I am here, I can feel they allow my presence, like they have accepted me although I was born in the South.”  
He had looked over to Lord Stark. “Does that make any sense?”

“It actually makes a lot of sense Jon. I am glad to see you have embraced the Old Gods. I hope they can help you as they do me. There is no place like a Godswood to help you clear your mind. Working through your problems is easier when you can focus. I’ve solved many a dilemma during my prayers in the Godswood.”

Jon had been amazed that the Warden of the North had opened up to him like this. It had been the first time that he saw a vulnerable side to the man. Jon had always looked up to this formidable Lord ruling a large Kingdom never imagining he struggled with things as well. He knew Uncle Benjen admired him greatly.

“Tell me about your lessons. Can you tell me what your favourite topics are? Are there things you have difficulty with?” he had heard Lord Stark ask.

“I’m learning all kind of things. Most of them I like. I greatly enjoyed learning the names of the great houses of the Crownlands, their sigils, their words, customs and their alliances. I loved to boast to the Maester how I could recite them all by heart. But then he came up with more. He makes me learn about all the big and minor houses of the entire realm and the Stepstones until I think my head will burst.” Jon had realised he had been whining and had tried to change his tone. 

“I think I am good with languages. I adore my physical education although I would like to learn to fight for real. I would prefer to spend more time on that instead of being stuck inside for another lesson with the Maester. He can be boring.”

“Lessons can not help but be boring sometimes. But you should remind yourself that they are necessary. Knowledge is power, you know. I am still learning new things every day, mostly through experience now, which is a lot less tedious but I am learning all the same.

Facts that seem dull to you now, may come in handy later for instance during trade negotiations or settling disputes. I sometimes have to negotiate marriage alliances for the sons and daughters of my bannermen and am grateful for every detail I know about their history. Knowledge also helps me in keeping the North prosper and the people well-fed.” Lord Stark had smiled at the boy.  
“I hope I am not the one who is boring you now?”

Jon had blushed. “No my Lord, I am grateful for your advice. “

In reality he had soaked up every word. As of that moment he had a new resolution. He would make the most of the education and opportunities he was offered. He realised that, although life seemingly had dealt him a bad card when you considered the fact that he had been orphaned only days after he was born, he had been really lucky to have been assigned such a great support system.

That grateful feeling had diminished a bit however when Lord Stark had told him about his son and daughters, Jon had grown quiet.  
Six year old Jon had been sad to see Lord Eddard Stark leave. 

‘Well it had taken more than four years for Lord Eddard Stark to send Robb to him’, Jon thought a little aggrieved. ‘He could have sent him sooner. ‘ 

 

****

 

The two ten year olds had hit it off immediately and had become inseparable from the very first day.  
Being almost the same age, they challenged each other. Robb was adequately versed in his knowledge of the great houses of Westeros. Jon however could boast a better grasp of foreign languages. 

Robb had been surprised that Jon was even being taught the old tongue of the North. Very few people of the North even knew that language still existed. And when Jon started to speak fluently in High Valyrian, Robb had had to admit he only knew a few words. Later, in the bedroom they shared, Jon had shyly related that he could write that language as well stating as proof the letters he wrote once a moon to a Maester of the Night’s Watch who was more competent to correct them than his teacher at Greywater Watch. 

Robb being the elder by two moons often played this as his trump card during games.  
‘The elder must always start’, being one of his examples. Robb clearly had more experience playing children’s game and used all kind of tricks Jon had not known were possible to evade Jon when playing tag. 

However when Robb used his ‘I’m the eldest’ card during their indoor lessens, he wasn’t as successful. Jon smiled thinking back on a hilarious mistake Robb had made yesterday during a geography lesson. Jon could teach Robb a thing our two about geography if he wanted. Robb either didn’t have a good teacher at Winterfell or hadn’t payed enough attention. Jon suspected the latter, since his new friend seemed intelligent enough.

 

Robb told him plenty about his home, Winterfell. Jon had heard about the castle before of course, mostly from ‘Uncle’ Benjen. However Robb told about Winterfell from the point of view of a young boy and Jon was riveted by his stories. 

“You know, they all call me My Lord. Even if they are at least three times as old as me. Some even bow, although it will be ages before I will ever become their Lord. The servants almost trip over themselves to be the one who can open the door for me, or be best placed to serve me my food. Even the Lords of the North always go out of their way to be amiable. “ 

Robb had smiled at Jon. “And all the while I am trying not to show how intimidated I am by them when they are presenting their cases when father is absent.”

“You’re hearing their cases?” Jon’s eyes had asked wide eyed.

“Well, they only bring the small issues forth when father is not there. Also Master Luwin and mother flank me and I hardly have to say a word. Like I said, I try not to piss my pants.”  
Both of them had giggled.

Robb had entertained Jon with tales of his siblings, how different Arya and Sansa were, how he was glad that his youngest sibling had been a boy although it would be a long time before they could spar together, but that he looked forward to teach him all he knew once this brother was old enough.  
He had also described the snow and the difference of the Godswood here compared to the one at Winterfell. Robb seemed not to mind answering Jon’s never ending questions. 

Jon did envy Robb. Not only was Robb’s father someone important that Jon knew well, he was a real nephew of Jon’s ‘Uncle’ Benjen, and not an adopted one as Jon claimed himself to be. Robb also had two sisters, a little brother and a mother. Robb’s mother had lived through four childbeds already. Jon’s mother however … Jon redirected his thoughts. No use dwelling on this, better enjoy the change of weather. He started to dress himself with clothes fit to play and spar outside.

Jon couldn’t help returning to his previous line of thought and compare his life to Robb’s once more. Greywater Watch was the only home Jon really knew and Lord Reed was like a father to him. He treated Jon kindly, always made time at the end of the evening meal to discuss his day with him. Several lessons were giving by Lord Reed personally. But he wasn’t family, not really. 

Lord Reed’s daughter, well she was a girl and when she was in his company she demanded his attention constantly and Jon indulged her but her little girl’s games were not his cup of tea and his schedule didn’t allow for much interaction with the girl anyway.  
Her brother, Jojen was only five and a rather passive child. Jon preferred the outdoors, Jojen on the other hand preferred to stay indoors doing… Actually Jon didn’t really know what the boy did all day. He practically only saw him at meals.

'I am not entitled to be ungrateful’, Jon reprimanded himself, ‘I have a good life here, even if it sometimes can feel a bit lonely. Besides my three shadows can be entertaining company if I get them to loosen up and I mustn’t forget Max.’ 

 

***

 

In the courtyard where they would shortly start their first real sparring session, the boys were putting on their armour that consisted out of pieces of boiled leather awkwardly fitted to match their size. Due to a spell of bad weather, they had been limited to indoor physical exercises that enhanced muscular strength and endurance. They had noticed they had been taught different drills in the past. Robb had shown Jon some typical Northern fighting moves which looked a bit rough to Jon but he could see how they could help generate power in a fighter’s strikes. Jon guessed their fighting styles would be rather different as well and couldn’t wait to spar with Robb if they were allowed. He really hoped so!

“Be glad it is Ser Oswell today”, Jon informed Robb, “Ser Arthur would surely take your sword away and work on your stance for most of the training session.”

“There is nothing wrong with my stance.” Robb replied offended.  
“I didn’t say there was.” Jon tried to soften his statement. “It is just the way Ser Arthur is. You will come to understand what I mean. Do not say I haven’t warned you. Ser Arthur is a perfectionist.”

***

“Ready boys?” Ser Oswell had been able to enter the courtyard unnoticed, the boys clearly enjoying each other’s company. He smiled when he saw them startle. ‘It will be good for my King to have a boy his own age to keep him company for a change.’ He thought. ‘Robb seems like a nice boy.’  
He changed his facial expression trying to mimic a strict teacher’s face.

“Well, where are your training swords, no use lingering, let’s see what you can do.”  
He addressed his King’s cousin. “Robb, you first. I will charge at your right side a few times and then swing at your left. Let me see how well you defend.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ser Oswell noticed Jon was studying Robb’s movements keenly taking in every reaction to Ser Oswell’s attacks. He was proud of his King. His observations would help him since Robb was taught a completely different fighting style. 

Jon moved more during fights, often deflecting strikes totally or meeting the thrusts when they were losing momentum. He also knew how to use an opponent’s power against him making him lose balance. Jon had learned to be patient and wait for an opening.  
Robb on the other hand liked to meet his opponent’s strikes head on throwing his body weight forward. Almost on every strike the boy tried to turn defence into attack. 

“Your turn, Jon.” 

Ser Oswell had gone easy on Robb, but still the boy was sweating profusely and needed a rest.  
“You need to conserve your energy in a fight Robb. Rest up while I’ll give Jon his warming up session. You will want to be rested when you face him next.” 

Ser Oswell now started the same exercises with Jon but making subtle changes in his angles not striking the same places over and over as he had done with Robb. ‘We taught our King well’, he couldn’t help think to himself. ‘Well it would be a shame if a Kingsguard wouldn’t be a better teacher than a simple northern master at arms, but I am glad to see it confirmed all the same.’

“Take a short break. Be sure to drink some water and then I want you to face each other. Now dismissed.” Ser Oswell addressed the two boys. 

He was really enjoying himself. He knew Ser Gerold was watching the entire training session from a window. For certain Ser Arthur would be very disappointed that he wasn’t here to witness the first time their protégé took on a trained opponent his own age and see with his own eyes how their combined efforts over the years had made him already substantially superior to his peers.

The boys were eager to end their break and face each other. They both took their starting position before Ser Oswell had to order them to. However they obediently waited for him to signal the start of the fight. 

Even though Jon had paid close attention during Robb’s earlier bout with Ser Oswell, the knight saw Jon was taken aback when the boy came at him at full strength with his very first strike. Jon almost tripped and could only deflect the strike in the nick of time. He quickly adjusted his stance and successfully countered Robb’s next attacks, often just evading them. Robb clearly frustrated by this but still overconfident after the success of his first big strike, overextended a swing and Jon had his opening. His sword point firmly fixed in Robb’s armpit he called out. “Yield”.

He saw Robb’s look of surprise. It was clear the boy never had been defeated in less than fifteen strokes by someone his own age. His King noble as ever tried to soften the blow. 

“Let’s try again, I simply got lucky.” And both boys resumed their starting positions. 

“Robb, you don't need to force all your strength into it to get what you want. How much strength you use often doesn't matter as much as where you hit. Focus on your opponent, find his weakness.” Ser Oswell encouraged Robb.

Robb nodded, a determined look on his face.

This time they circled each other for a bit. Robb clearly having decided to let Jon make the first move this time. Jon executed a certain combination of strikes that Ser Arthur had taught him a moon ago. He had made Jon repeat them at least a hundred times until his muscles were unable to lift a sword only to have to repeat them again the next day. 

The knight saw Robb having trouble with the speed of his opponent’s moves. Ser Oswell immediately noticed the moment Jon decided to hold back. The boy clearly didn’t want to humble his new friend too much. He saw that his King wouldn’t let his friend win, but he made a valiant effort to lengthen the fight. Jon had made slight adjustments to his initial battle plan and let Robb get some strikes in without being too obvious. 

Ser Oswell forced himself to quit studying Jon and switched his attention to Robb trying to decide which advice would have the most immediate effect. It wouldn’t do to change his northern fighting style that relied mostly on strength, but he could give Robb a few pointers so the boy knew how avoid giving too many openings to his opponent and he could certainly give him tips on how to conserve energy. 

 

***

 

Both boys were seated on a bench in the corner of the courtyard. Training was over and they were both exhausted and sweaty. 

Robb looked at Jon. “You weren’t kidding when you said they like to drill you to the point of breaking, or when you told me how they make you repeat the same moves over and over again. I don’t think I have ever been this weary.” 

He studied the younger boy closely and continued.  
“You’re lucky with such a teacher, and you say you have three? I thought you were too skinny to hurt me much, but the speed with which you swing your weapon is amazing. I hope they can teach me how to do that.”

“Do you realise I have never ever lost to another boy in less than fifteen strokes at Winterfell? Not even to Theon Greyjoy and he is more than a year older than me! I always believed I was good at swordplay.” Robb tried his best not to be a sore loser.

“You are a good fighter Robb. I just fight a little different than you do. You first have to get to know how an opponent fights and then figure out how to beat him. You will do better in a few days. Besides, you will have the benefit of my teachers for a few moons and when you return to Winterfell you can soundly beat this Theon Greyjoy, perhaps even in under fifteen strokes.” Jon teasingly nudged Robb’s shoulder.  
“Who is he by the way? You haven’t mentioned him before.

“Theon Greyjoy is a boy who is a year older than us. He will live with us at Winterfell for a few years. He arrived a few moons ago. My father had to take him in on King Robert’s orders. His family was defeated in the Greyjoy Rebellion and he stays with us so his father will not attack again.” Robb explained

“So he is an Ironborn, a kraken?” Jon’s eyes were wide as saucers now. “Is he civilized enough to live with you? I was taught the Ironborn live the ‘Old Way’ and only use things they stole.”

“Yes he is a Greyjoy, the only son left of that family.” Robb sighed. “Father told us to give him a chance. He said we could teach him our ways. He will not be allowed to steal anything and we will provide him with clothes and other things. But he boasts all of the time. Tells us all kind of things he has already done, even with girls!”

Jon looked at Robb a brief shock on his face but stayed silent so Robb would tell him more.

“He challenges me at every opportunity. I’ve already been punished several times for going along with one of his crazy plans. I even believed father had decided to send me to Greywater Watch as some kind of punishment but now I think I got that wrong.” He smiled at Jon.  
“Being here seems more like a reward to me.”  
He shifted bit closer to Jon. “I really like you.”

Jon blushed and shyly returned Robb’s smile. “I really like you too Robb. You’re my best friend even“, he paused and added looking a bit impish “if you are my only friend that is not an adult.”  
A comfortable silence ensued.

 

“You know”, Robb started talking again.  
“I overheard Lord Reed talking to the Maester. They were discussing when exactly I would return to Winterfell, but do you know what they said after that?” Robb finished mysteriously. He couldn’t wait to tell Jon but liked the bit of suspense he was creating.

“You have to go back earlier than planned?” Jon looked deflated.

“No! If anything I am staying longer! But they were talking about you coming along to Winterfell. Father invited you Jon!” Robb's enthusiasm was contagious. 

Jon lightened up and studied Robb to see whether he was serious.  
“Really? I get to see Winterfell, are you sure? Meet your brother and your sisters?”  
Jon paused then he raised his voice even more. “Will Uncle Benjen be there?”

Robb grinned. “Of course I am sure. It was not a suggestion. They were talking logistics. What to take, who would accompany you.” He considered something and resumed looking more serious now.  
“You know you are right. You are never allowed to go anywhere alone. Not here and certainly not to Winterfell.”  
Robb looked significantly to Ser Gerold who was sitting in the opposite corner of the courtyard trying not to listen in but still keeping an eye on the boys all the same.

“I know”, Jon answered quietly,  
“Sometimes I make up stories. For instance I imagine that I am some rich orphan from an Essossi Noble House living in exile in Westeros and they have to keep me safe from assassins.”

“Kind of like the two Targaryens living in the free cities?” Robb asked.

“Kind of, but the other way around, I guess.” Jon agreed. “Besides”, his voice had dropped to a whisper, “Can you keep a secret?”  
Robb nodded, he was intrigued by Jon’s demeanour. 

Jon whispered insistently. “I mean not tell anyone, not even your parents, not your siblings, certainly not the Kraken. It is important Robb. You have to solemnly promise me before I divulge anything.” 

Robb with a serious but sincere look on his face spoke up “I will vow on my Stark honour and swear by to old Gods not to reveal anything you do not want me to.”

Jon smiled at the unconditional oath of his friend.  
“I have a dog.” Jon started his story. 

Robb looked confused. “So have I, several actually.”

“I’ve not finished”, Jon replied. “I hope you will believe me. So I have this dog, I named him Max. Well Max and I are sort of bonded.” 

Robb frowned “Bonded?”

“Bonded.” Jon affirmed. “I can see through his eyes, I can even tell him what to do.”

“My dog loves me as well and obeys my commands.” Robb replied. What do you mean though when you say you can see through his eyes?”

“Well, I can see what he sees. Max is near the kitchen now. Shall I tell him to go inside and see what’s for dinner?”

“That’s no proof.” Robb retorted. “Someone could have told you what we’re going to eat tonight.”

Jon pondered the issue.  
“Well, I can ask him to come over here and threaten to piss on your pants? Don’t worry. He will only lift his leg and do nothing more but bark and start licking your boots.”

“That’s also a command a dog can learn.” Now Robb was deep in thought trying to come up with an impossible assignment. 

“Could you ask him to go to our bedroom? I know we left the door open this morning. Make him retrieve my blue pants? They should still be lying on top of my bed furs. If he can bring them here without you getting up from this bench, then I will believe you. Are you sure he is near the kitchen Jon?”

“I’m positive. Now let me concentrate.” Jon turned sideways so Robb couldn’t see his eyes and didn’t move for some time.  
Suddenly a dog could be seen sprinting toward them, something blue in his mouth.”

Ser Gerold studied Jon sternly. “Jon, come over here for a second.” He ordered.  
Jon obeyed leaving Max with Robb so they could get to know each other.

“Did you just do what I think you did?” Ser Gerold lifted his brow and stared accusingly at Jon.

“I did Ser.” Jon looked a bit intimidated. 

“I discussed it with Lord Reed since Robb will be living here for some moons and I will still have to perform my daily mental exercises. Lord Reed decided it was better to tell him ourselves than to let him find out without us knowing. This way I could tell him up front how important it was that he would tell no one about it. Besides, Lord Reed said you can trust a Stark when you make him promise. And I did just that. Robb even swore upon his Stark honour.”  
Jon looked a little smug now.

“You could have given me a heads up.” Ser Gerold grumbled.  
“Well I guess I should be grateful you didn’t prove it by letting him wet my boots.” 

Jon grinned, all tension between them resolved.  
“You know, I almost did,” he teased and then ran away before the knight could retaliate.

When Jon returned to the bench where Robb was still playing with Max, Robb stated quietly.  
“I believe you and you can rest assured, I will tell no one. It is amazing though. Can you explain this some more later this evening in our bedroom before we go to sleep? I bet there is a story here.”

Jon looked relieved at the easy acceptance of this proof of his ‘weirdness’.  
“I’ll try to answer your questions. I don’t know if I would call it a story.”

Robb seemed satisfied with this answer. Suddenly he jumped up from the bench.  
“Come on Jon”, he said out loud.  
“Let’s go inside and write a message to Uncle Benjen. We’ll write him that you’re invited to Winterfell sometime in the future. I’m sure he’ll do his best to be there. We can’t leave it to chance!”

“Great idea Robb, let’s go!” 

Jon put his arm over Robb shoulder and the two boys headed toward the castle. Ser Gerold smiled and got up to follow them. It was nice to see his King this carefree.

 

 

**Interlude 5: How Dany met Jon**

**Future glimpse**

Daenerys was very happy, anxious, nervous perhaps, but very happy. A messenger had just come from the docks. His ship had arrived. Soon Aegon would be here. She would finally get to meet him in person. She called her Septa to join her in the sitting room and instructed the servants to prepare refreshments.

 

Daenerys was a princess, an exiled princess. She was born on Dragonstone in Westeros but had been whisked away by Targaryen loyalists when her family lost the Iron Throne during the Rebellion. Since then she had lived in Pentos hiding from the Baratheons, the house that now ruled the Seven Kingdoms. 

Her earliest memories were of a modest house in Pentos with a red door. She and her brother had lived there with two protectors and a Septa, called Moelle. The latter had become more of a companion and teacher than a religious guide. Daenerys had learned of the Seven from her but was not really impressed by these so-called Gods.  
Life had been boring, money had been short and Ser Darry their main protector had been half blind and ailing. 

But then Daenerys could clearly remember when things had changed for the better. First Ser Darry had started to get regular visitors. Then they had moved to a large mansion with strong walls and an iron gate. Guards and servants had been hired. Daenerys had received new gowns and some toys. When Ser Darry died, his replacement had already been there for more than a year. Ser Jorah Mormont was now the head of her guard. He became a trusted advisor and often told her about the Northern Kingdom where he was born.

Daenerys would have been very happy if her brother hadn’t gotten ill. Viserys was six years older than her and constantly talking about moving back to Westeros. He had told her stories about the Rebellion and the ‘usurper’ as he called the current King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had told them to her over and over again. The stories had gotten more fanatical with every rendition. But then there came time her brother had been delirious constantly. 

One day she had found him in the middle of burning his hand with a candle. He had raved like a madman about dragons and burning and they had had to give him milk of the poppy to get him to calm down and treat his burns. Ever since then his mental health had deteriorated. 

The Maester had been obligated to keep him sedated the entire time. Each attempt to wean him of the medication and let him wake up had resulted in Viserys raving like a madman and burning himself. He seemed obsessed with fire. This went on for many moons until one day, his body had been too weakened by the constant drugging and inactivity and his heart had given out. 

Daenerys could remember that day as if it was yesterday. She was truly alone in the world now. She had been depressed for some time but then the letter had come.  
Daenerys had been twelve at the time. The letter had been addressed to her written by a boy who was twelve as well and who claimed to be her family. He told her that she was not alone in the world. He was her nephew and she also had an elderly relative living at the Wall, a Maester Aemon Targaryen. There was a letter included from him as well.

The first letter was brought by a trusted messenger. Aegon had included an extra sheet that described a kind of code they could use to hide the real content of their future letters. Since he knew she was fluent in High Valyrian, he had devised a code they would use to encrypt their letters.

They would always combine two sentences. Write the first sentence in High Valyrian, the second sentence in the common Tongue. Then they would alter each word writing it backwards, for example ‘word’ became ‘drow’. The next step was mixing the first and the second sentences combining them into one sentence, keeping the words in the right order, alternating words from each sentence: the first word of the first sentence, the first word of the second sentence, then the second word of the first sentence, and so on. Daenerys thought it was a brilliant idea and she had fun coding her correspondence like that.

Ever since then messages were exchanged regularly between the two of them. Occasionally she would also receive a letter from Maester Aemon. Daenerys learned that Aegon lived incognito in Westeros under an alias ‘Jon Celtigar’. He was born Aegon Targaryen son of her brother Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. The Starks were not ‘usurpers’ bent on destroying Targaryens. 

Viserys had been wrong. Only King Baratheon and the Lannisters were looking for her and would kill her if they got the chance. Luckily they didn’t know that Aegon existed yet. Aegon was half Targaryen and half Stark and the Starks were instrumental in keeping him safe. She learned that the people who protected Aegon were also the ones that had been sending money here. They had always kept a close eye on her and Viserys. All the servants and guards that had joined them after her fifth nameday had been organised by them. Aegon had claimed his entourage had thwarted several attempts on her life, but had reassured her that they were confident she was safe for the time being.

If she still had had any doubt that he really was who he claimed to be, she was convinced when he started telling her about his two dragons. He even claimed to be in possession of another dragon egg and hoped that maybe it was destined for her. He had told her how he had felt straight away that two of the eggs were meant for him. 

What he had felt exactly or how he had successfully hatched the dragon eggs he wouldn’t put into writing, not even in code. He would tell her only if she needed the information. She prayed the third egg would respond to her but mostly she prayed for Aegon to stay safe until they could meet. She would be patient. For the first time since the death of her brother she had felt a sense of belonging again. She was not the last Targaryen.

Gradually the tone of the letters changed, Aegon sounded more confident no longer a boy, but a man. What he told her were no longer vague ideas. Aegon had started to tell her about their plans to overthrow the Baratheon King, claim the Iron Throne. They had enhanced their coded messages by substituting names and sensitive nouns by aliases.  
Unlike Viserys’ ramblings, her nephew’s plans made sense. He already had substantial support and had plans in motion to gather even more allies. Besides he had dragons which were healthy and growing well.

Then the letter arrived in which he announced he was planning a sea voyage and would finally be able to visit her. He had not hidden from her how much he looked forward to that. He had promised to be there within six moons at the latest. And so it had happened. A few sennights before her sixteenth nameday, he had sailed to Pentos. 

 

And now she sat here in the sitting room, softly talking with Moelle, trying to make the time go faster somehow. She was doing her best to act normal and forced herself not to look out of the window too often. But when she heard the heavy iron gates open she couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She jumped up and almost ran to the window. She saw three men on horseback enter the courtyard and dismount. They didn’t linger but hastened themselves to the front door. And then a servant led him into the room. 

Daenerys’ heart beat so loudly, she wondered if her Septa could hear it. A young man entered and looked around obviously looking for her. His eyes went wide when he saw her standing next to a Septa. Another man followed him inside, scanned the room and took up position next to the door. ‘Of course, a Targaryen Prince would not go anywhere without a guard.’

He bowed and she made a formal curtsy. Nobody had spoken yet.

Daenerys knew from his letters that he didn’t have the Targaryen colouring but the young man who stood before her was totally different from the image she had dreamed up when she read his letters. He had no resemblance whatsoever to her or Viserys. He also didn’t look like the few Westerosi she had encountered before. 

At first glance he was a handsome young man, strong, lean, cute dark curls. He seemed all that she had hoped for, all that she had expected even. But what struck her was his personality. Although he had been nervous the first few seconds, the way he held himself was not the posture of a boy. Before her stood a young man, a confident young man. At least that was her first impression. 

When her eyes met his warm dark eyes, matching the description of the Stark grey she had been told about, she had been struck with a sense of belonging. She knew instantly that he was her kin. She could drown in these sensitive, intelligent orbs staring warmly at her. 

Moelle standing next to Daenerys smiled indulgently and did the honours.  
“My Lord, may I present to you Princess Daenerys Targaryen of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella. I am her Septa and go by the name of Moelle.“

The young man spoke up now “Prince Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Your nephew greets you aunt, greetings to you too septa Moelle”. His eyes however never left her face and the welcoming smile that lighted his face made him even more handsome. 

“Well met Aegon”, she smiled. “Please call me Daenerys. We are kin and the same age. Let’s forget that I am technically your aunt.”

“Thank you Daenerys. I will. And please call me Jon for now. Nobody calls me Aegon yet. I would probably look behind me to see whether there’s another person standing there if you were to call me that.” His smile grew even wider.

“Please have as seat”, Daenerys suddenly remembered she was the hostess here. “I will call for refreshments.”  
And Aegon or rather Jon had sat down and they had started to get acquainted for real.

 

***

The days had flown by. Her nephew had dedicated a lot of time to her. They had taken lengthy strolls in the gardens. Most of the time they kept their conversation light talking of non political topics, just enjoying this time to get to know each other, both glad they still had family that shared Targaryen blood. 

During one of their last strolls Daenerys had built up the courage to broach a delicate subject.

“Jon, are you considering a marriage alliance in Westeros to gain more allies? Are you already promised to someone? 

He had blushed and had taken some time to answer. He seemed tense when he finally started talking.  
“I am trying to avoid this as long as possible. It is not always easy to stave off council from my loyal entourage, all of them being at least twice my age. My advisors have proposed several possible brides thus far. I have told them that they can bring up their suggestions and I will listen closely and consider them. However I have made it clear that in the end I will have the final say.” 

Then Jon had relaxed again and had looked at her with that tempting smile that she knew well by now but still relished seeing it lighten his often serious features. He had leaned her way, his mouth close to her ear to make it seem as if he was going to tell her a big secret.  
“Being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the One True King of Westeros, The Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, He who has Dragons, must come with some perks, don’t you thing so?” he had said mockingly.

And it had been her time to blush. Not because of this words, but because of the small puffs of his breath tickling her ear. They had made her feel warm inside.

 

***

During the sennight he spent with her, Jon had introduced her to some of his travel companions. He was of course accompanied by a sort of Kingsguard but he had also brought some friends along.

They seemed a curious mix. There was Edric Dayne, future lord of Starfall, Samwell Tarly, a shy be it somewhat overweight young man but seemingly a really close friend to Jon, then there was Gendry, a craftsman with an impressive physique but with an accent that betrayed his low origins. Jon however treated him with as much respect as his noble friends. 

His guards also were a curious mix of personalities. Two were former Targaryen Kingsguards, although if you considered the fact that Jon, or rather Aegon was the rightful King, they were still Kingsguards. The third one was a large rather ugly looking man with rough manners and an even rougher vocabulary going by the name of Sandor Clegane. Daenerys was amazed at the natural way Jon interacted with him and the respect the larger man seemed to have for Jon. It only made her esteem her nephew more. 

It was evident that he was the leader of this strange group, it was his birthright. But it seemed that his friends and his guards truly esteemed Jon and that he had a natural bond with all of them. Her nephew would make a good sovereign.

 

All too soon it was time for Jon to leave. Their goodbye was affectionate. Jon had enfolded her in his arms and had held on to her for a long time. She had shed a few tears but they were happy, hopeful ones Daenerys had reassured him. She had said that now that she had seen him and heard his plans she finally believed she could go home soon. 

And Jon had promised her. It would take them no longer than a year he had said with certainty. As soon as Dragonstone was freed from Stannis Baratheon, he would send a ship for her. Daenerys had nodded and smiled, even given him a quick peck on his cheek. Then he was gone.

Daenerys had not lied to him. There had been some happy tears amongst them. She looked forward to living in Westeros. She was determined to prepare herself for this new phase in her life. If she had it her way she would be an asset to her nephew instead of a burden. She would educate herself so she could be an adviser to him, perhaps even help him rule? 

Anyway his considerate gifts would help her in this endeavour. Before Jon had left he had brought her two crates with several books. He told her that his friend Samwell Tarly had helped him with the selection. He had stressed that she only needed to read those she was interested in. It was important she believed they were gifts only meant to please her, to answer the many questions she had about her homeland and not disguised obligatory lessons. He had gazed in her eyes with such a kind and earnest look that she had no doubts whatsoever that he only had the purest intentions and it really was a thoughtful gift. 

Several tomes contained the history of each of the Seven Kingdoms. There were books detailing all the Lords of the great Houses going back hundreds of years. One volume was dedicated to House Stark exclusively and described the known history of the former Kings of Winter going back almost ten thousand years ago. She had already read a small part of that one and had been riveted by the tale of Brandon the Builder. She couldn’t wait to read more. 

Then there were books on geography, books on keeping books. She remembered his teasing voice when he had phrased it like that. It was actually more a guide for the castellan of a keep.  
There were binders containing religious texts, smaller volumes full of folk tales, songs and poems popular in Westeros, scrolls describing customs, clothing, court protocol. 

But he had saved the best one for last. She had reverently touched the cover of the large tome Jon had carefully laid out on the table before her. Her fingers had followed the raised pattern of the tree headed dragon that was printed on the beautiful brown leather cover. She had been moved beyond words. It had been the first time she had hugged him.  
She wondered if she could read them all before it was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the big reveal!


	7. Jon knows something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon visits Winterfell and hears about his parentage.  
> Prince Oberyn also learns some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrote this chapter several times. Hope it doesn't disappoint  
> I am aging Edric Dayne up a bit. I just wanted to create more friends for Jon.

Jon had been enjoying his time at Winterfell. He had been here for two sennights now and soon they would be heading over to the Wall and he would get to meet Maester Aemon with whom he had been corresponding for several years now. 

Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell had accompanied Jon on this trip. They had let their beards and hair grow out and almost always wore helmets that left little visible of their faces. During meals in the great hall they took up guard duty and ate in private afterwards. Nobody suspected they were anything other than two loyal houseguards of Jon Celtigar, an insignificant lord of the Driftmark who had befriended the son of Lord Stark. 

Ser Arthur hadn’t appreciated being left behind but Ser Gerold had argued that Ser Arthur was the most recognisable of the three of them. They were taking enough risks at it was. Howland Reed however had placated Ser Arthur by telling him that the Gods had showed him in several green dreams that the knight’s nephew Edric Dayne would someday be of great help to Jon. His premonitions had convinced him that Ser Arthur could inform his closest living relatives that he was alive if he took the necessary precautions. 

Ser Arthur had not hesitated and had immediately sent out an invitation to the current lord of Starfall supposedly to meet a lord Velaryon of the Driftmark to discuss possible trade relations. He had picked a location halfway between Starfall and the Driftmark and in due time received the Lord’s acceptance. A date in less than two moon’s time had been agreed upon. Ser Arthur had let the party leave for Winterfell without complaining, a renewed spring in his steps.

To compensate for the knight they left behind, Ser Gerold had taken on an extra guard and that is how Jon had met Sandor Clegane. It had been an experience. It wasn’t because of the burns, although at first Jon had been self conscious when he looked straight at Clegane’s face. Clegane noticing this had just grumbled that they didn’t fucking hurt any longer and Jon had been able to ignore them soon after. 

No, Jon was fascinated by the way Clegane talked and acted. Jon was used to the well mannered knights who treated him with respect. Sandor Clegane was nothing like that. It seemed to Jon that however much Clegane tried to reign in his coarse language when speaking with the twelve year old, he somehow always fell back into his crude speech patterns. Sometimes Jon could also overhear little outburst during conversations between the adults. And although Sandor Clegane was not a very talkative guy, Jon had already learned more curse words in these last few moons than in his entire existence. 

Jon had come to like Sandor Clegane. Perhaps it was because he was so different from everyone else. He didn’t beat about the bush, he didn’t sugarcoat. He said few words but they conveyed more pertinent information than the lengthy debates of the high Lords. He dared to call a liar out. As he phrased it himself “he called their bullshit so they would stop winging”.  
Jon realised that if you could see past his rough manners Clegane was a guy you could rely on. Besides he was a formidable fighter. He would be a valuable addition to their group when they traveled to the Wall. Jon had heard that the journey could be dangerous.

Sandor Clegane had arrived at the Driftmark where Jon was visiting his foster-grandmother. He had arrived with Captain Davos Seaworth and a Dornish Prince. The Prince had left after a sennight but Davos Seaworth had stayed on and Jon had come to enjoy his company. Davos, as Jon had been allowed to call him, reminded him a bit of Lord Stark if you considered the way he always had a pearl of wisdom to offer when Jon struggled with something. But where Lord Stark was formidable, Davos was an easy going, warm-hearted person, who always stayed very humble. He acted more like an affectionate father toward Jon and Jon had been delighted when it had been decided that Davos would accompany their small party to Winterfell.

 

It had been nice getting to know Robb’s sisters and brother and observe how they were exactly as Robb had described them. Arya had become their little shadow. One time he and Robb had sneaked out of the castle trying to avoid her company for once but it hadn’t taken much longer than the time it took to shoot ten arrows before she had found them in the small yard and had wanted to try it as well. Of course her little arms hadn’t been able to pull the string of the bow so Jon had helped her and with their combined effort they had hit the mark right in the center, before Robb had been able to do so. Apparently by this little act Jon had earned her undying loyalty. 

Their lively company had distracted Jon from his grief over the loss of Max. The little dog had gotten ill shortly after they had started their journey north. Jon had felt slightly sick as well and after a bad night full of disturbing dreams Jon had woken up next to the lifeless animal. 

He had kept it together reminding himself of Lord Reed’s promise. Moments before they had parted, Lord Reed had whispered the content of a premonition in his ear. He had foreseen that Jon would find a worthy mate during his travels and would create a bond with him stronger than anything he had ever experienced with Max. He had also given him the cryptic comment to find it in him to share when the time came.

Being at Winterfell also meant seeing Lord Eddard Stark again and he had been introduced to his lady wife, Catelyn Stark. She seemed nice be it a bit formal, always greeting him rather stiffly when he encountered her in the hallway or in the great hall when he sat down for dinner. She always invited him to dine at the family table but he often excused himself murmuring a well-meant thank you and dined I the company of his own entourage. He saw she didn’t know what to make of that.

She clearly wasn’t at ease in his company. Jon was almost at the end of his stay here and still her behaviour was a combination of formal pride and apprehension. Somehow she seemed to go out of her way trying not to offend him. She enquired regularly if his room was adequate, if the food was to his liking, whether the servants saw to his needs timely and sufficiently, but always with a tense look on her face.  
Jon took it all in stride. All in all he enjoyed his time at Winterfell immensely.

 

The only low point of his visit thus far had been Theon Greyjoy. Jon had immediately sensed that Theon was jealous of the easy camaraderie that had grown between him and Robb these last moons and that the Ironborn tried everything to sow discord between the two of them. He told Robb that Jon was a nobody compared to them, Theon being a Prince of Pyke and Robb a future Warden of the North. Besides, Theon had declared, he was a year older and much more interesting than a spoiled brat from an obscure island.

Things had only worsened when Robb had insisted on a joint sparring session. Theon hadn’t been able to beat Robb, but had tried to swallow his pride and had boasted that Robb just had a lucky day. Then he had proceeded to take Jon on but he had been livid when Jon had disarmed him in less than ten strokes. For once Jon wasn’t in a mood to be considerate. His opponent had tried his patience incessantly these last few days. 

Greyjoy had insisted upon a rematch and had charged at him before Jon had gotten the opportunity to take up his starting position. Jon had done the only thing possible to prevent himself from getting hurt and had tumbled sideways making a complete rotation that had him back on his feet immediately. Theon hadn’t been able to stop his forward momentum and had hit the wall. 

Ser Gerold who had been watching from the corner had hurried over to the boys ready to intervene but since Jon had saved himself the knight had directed all his angry energy at Theon. He had slapped the boy across the face, dragged him to the small storage space where the training equipment was kept and had locked him in there. 

Theon had been punished. He had been sent to bed without dinner and had received a stern reprimand from Lord Stark the next morning. He had been given additional chores to limit his time with the boys and was made to apologise in full view of the household to Jon for his dishonourable conduct.  
After that awkward public scene, Jon did everything possible to avoid Theon. Jon didn’t want to cause trouble for Lord Stark, besides Jon would leave in a few days. He didn’t envy Robb who would have to share his home with the Kraken for several years.

But tonight Uncle Benjen would arrive before dinner. His ‘uncle’ would also accompany Jon on his trip to the Wall. 

 

***

 

**The next morning.**

Jon was apprehensive. He knew something was going on. Last night during dinner Lord Stark had come up to the table where Jon had been talking animatedly with Uncle Benjen, Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane. Uncle Ned had asked Jon to attend him in his solar the next morning after breakfast. He had looked rather grim and very serious doing so. Ever since that moment Uncle Benjen seemed uneasy and his two loyal knights couldn’t look him in the eye. They had evaded his questions and had told him just to be patient, that Lord Stark certainly had a good reason to summon him. Only Davos and Clegane had kept acting normal.

Jon had not slept well and had dreamt that he was thrown out of the castle with only the clothes on his back. In his dream he had set off alone, cold and hungry. In no time he had gotten lost in the woods. He awoke in a sweat remembering the last part of his dream in which a pack of wolves had encircled him. He wasn’t sure if they had threatened to attack him or if they had surrounded him for protection. At breakfast he ate very little. Still subdued by the memories of his nightmare he couldn’t help but worry about the reason behind the summons of Lord Stark.

 

When he entered the solar he was surprised to see that Uncle Benjen was there as well. A bit reassured by that Jon sat down close to him and tried not to look too intimidated.  
“You asked me here, my Lord.” He said respectfully.

“Yes Jon. I would like to speak to you about your parents, your family.” Lord Stark looked nervous. 

Jon looked over at Uncle Benjen. His uncle seemed apprehensive as well.  
“My parents are long dead Lord Stark. I do not understand.” Their behaviour was scaring him.

“Yes Jon, your parents are dead. The point is,” he paused, clearly searching for words.

Uncle Benjen turned his body toward Jon and took his hand.  
“Jon what we have to tell you will be difficult to hear. But know we did not want to disown you. Before you react to what we tell you, please know that I’ve loved you from the first day I saw you. I would have told the entire world that we were family if it would not have put you in danger.”  
Uncle Benjen’s eyes looked pleadingly into Jon’s. For the first time Jon realised their eyes were the same dark grey, Stark grey!

“I don’t understand,” Jon stammered totally of balance now.  
“Are you my father?” His gaze never wavered from his ‘Uncle’ Benjen’s eyes. This was not what he had expected at all. He didn’t know what to think.

“Jon, I am your uncle, your uncle by blood. Lord Stark is your uncle as well. You are the son of my sister Lyanna Stark.” Benjen kept his voice as calm as possible and still held Jon’s hand in his. 

Jon looked at him sceptically.  
“Your sister who looks like Arya and you missed so much when she died? I am a Stark by blood? Why would you not want to tell me that? I could have grown up with Robb at Winterfell. Oh, Robb and I are cousins! Does he know? Who knows? Why didn’t I know?” Jon was working himself up into a frenzy.

“Please Jon, listen”, his Uncle Benjen, apparently his uncle for real, pleaded with him now. 

“Jon, for the love I hold for you, please listen to me and let me tell you the entire story first. There is a lot more to it. Promise me you will let us tell you and promise me you will listen carefully. I know you are intelligent enough to consider all angles and not only your own perspective. Please keep in mind that all these years we have always had your best interest in mind. My brother and I have always considered you family and it has hurt us terribly that we couldn’t raise you ourselves. Please believe that above all else.” His Uncle Benjen looked really desperate now.

Jon squeezed his hand reassuringly and tried to calm himself down.  
“I will try, Uncle.” And a watery smile crossed both their faces.

However it was Lord Stark who cleared his throat and proceeded to tell him a short version of the story starting with the Rebellion, the slaughter of the royal children, finding their sister with a baby and concluded by revealing that Jon was actually a member of the Targaryen royal family and had a claim to the Iron Throne.

A long silence followed. Jon’s mind was reeling.  
His uncles waited patiently for Jon to react. The boy released his uncle’s hand, stood up and proceeded to walk up and down the small room.  
After a while he stopped, seemed to make up his mind and took his former place again, close to his Uncle Benjen.

“Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur?”

“Are your Kingsguard, sworn to protect you.” Lord Stark completed Jon’s sentence for him.

Another silence, then Jon spoke up again.  
“You were fighting against my father’s armies during the Rebellion? Yet …,” Jon hesitated to say more.

“The Rebellion was started over a lie.” Uncle Benjen intervened softly.  
“Things would have been so different had the realm been told that Lyanna loved Rhaegar and she had married him. Starks and Targaryens had been allies for almost three hundred years. But lies were spread, everybody overreacted, the Mad King murdered my father and brother. Things escalated from there. Jon, we are not your enemy. You are part of our pack. We are working behind the scenes to rectify the wrongs done to your house and we will help you get your throne back.”

Another long silence, this time Jon didn’t get up. He stayed perfectly still and appeared to work through all he was told. Finally he looked at Lord Stark.

“How … Why would I want the throne? Why can’t I just live with my kin now that I know I still have some? Surely after all these years nobody suspects anything any longer. And if I have learned anything from my history lessons, I do not look like a Targar …“, Jon interrupted himself. 

“Maester Aemon! He is family as well! And Daenerys and Viserys! Do they know that I exist? Oh, we’re going to visit Maester Aemon! Does he know who I am?” Jon’s mind jumped from one conclusion to another.

“Jon, let’s all calm down.” Now it was Lord Stark who tried to placate Jon. 

“There is a lot more to tell you. But to answer your first question, King Robert Baratheon is not a good king. The realm suffers. He doesn’t care about ruling, doesn’t care about his people. He only drinks and spends a lot of money. He is still searching for Daenerys and Viserys. He stills wants to kill them. He would want to kill you if he knew you existed. People are suffering.”

“Although it is your birthright to rule, the true motivation should be that you, that we want to help people. We do not want children to be murdered because they were born into a particular house. We want to protect Daenerys and Viserys. We want to protect the people, protect the weak, not dissimilar to the vows a knight makes. But to do all this, to be able to right these wrongs, you need power. The only way to have that kind of power is to stake your claim. But rest assured you won’t have to do it alone. It won’t happen overnight and we will all help you.” 

Lord Stark studied his nephew closely. Reassured that the boy was listening intently, he continued.

“The plan is to keep you safe. You have to stay hidden until you are old enough. In the meantime we prepare ourselves. We build a fleet, amass an army, forge alliances and give you the education you need. Raising you at Winterfell with your Kingsguard in tow would not have been safe. Trust me. We had a heated discussion when I wanted to take you away from them at the Tower of Joy. We all had to compromise.” 

“Why tell me now?” Jon asked. He took a deep breath and added “Can I call you Uncle?”  
He looked at Lord Stark a hopeful expression in his grey Stark eyes.

“I would consider it an honour if you would call me Uncle Ned.” Lord Stark gave him a hesitant smile. “At the very least this would mean that you are not carrying too big a grudge against us.

“I’m trying to look at it from your point of view Uncle Ned.” Jon was calmer now.  
“I am starting to realize that what you and Uncle Benjen have been doing all these years could be considered treason and that you have been risking your lives all this time, even putting your entire family in danger.” I think I am not entitled to be resentful. I’m starting to think that I should be thankful instead.” 

He turned to his Uncle Benjen.  
“Especially to you Uncle Benjen. If I am right, you have been doing nothing but travelling for my sake?” Jon looked warmly at his favourite uncle, a adequate distinction since he had more than one uncle now. 

The man sat still close to him and took the boy’s hand in his once more.  
“It was my choice, Jon. I would do it all again”, he stated simply, a relieved smile on his face now.

“Still,” Jon looked back at his other uncle, why now? Is it because we are going to visit Maester Aemon at the Wall? What is he, a great-great-uncle of mine?”

“Something like that yes.” Uncle Ned started explaining.  
“If we are being honest, Maester Aemon was the one who insisted on telling you now. We would perhaps have waited a few years longer. Just to keep you safe, mind you. The more people who know, the way you would act, the way other people in the know would interact with you, it could all arouse suspicion. Someone could overhear. All reasons to wait a bit longer.”

“It isn’t because you think me still too young to handle this knowledge, because you do not trust me to be mature enough to keep this a secret?” Jon asked slightly upset.

His Uncle Benjen tried to soften the mood again.  
“Jon, we do trust you. We only wanted you to have some carefree years first. Imagine if you had known earlier. Knowing your sense of duty …”, he trailed off but then resumed with more confidence.  
“Now that you know, will you still be able to forget everything and enjoy playing games with Arya without a care in the world?”

Jon sighed. “Perhaps you have a point there. Although, now that I know some things, I wish to know it all. Perhaps not everything right this instant. Gods know I need to think on this a bit. My parents caused the rebellion! They were the reason thousands died?” 

“Jon, don’t overthink things now. Wait until you’re calmer. But I can perhaps reassure you some on account of your parents. We have reason to believe someone set them up. All those lies that were spread could not have been a coincidence. We are looking into it and have a suspect. And do not forget, the situation in the Seven Kingdoms was volatile enough to begin with, remember a mad King sat on the throne.”

“Let’s table this discussion for later, perhaps even sleep on it first?” Benjen refrained himself from hugging Jon, not wanting to destroy Jon’s composure. He sensed the boy would very likely fall apart the moment Benjen offered more comfort. He just squeezed his nephew's hand once more.

“Alright, but in the next few days I want to be briefed thoroughly. I want to hear all about the plans you have been making in my name. I want to know who knows about me, who our allies are at this moment, who you suspect of foul play, what preparations you where talking about earlier.”

He looked straight into Lord Stark’s eyes now. “And I will want to be part of future discussions. If plans are being made for me, in my name, I will want to be able to have at the very least a say in them.” 

Jon paused, a determined look on his face.  
“Also I will want to contact Daenerys and Viserys in Essos.“ 

Jon held up his hand when he saw that his Uncle Ned wanted to interfere.  
“I know, Uncle. I won’t do anything without your approval and endanger my newly found family. We can discuss the best way to go about this together, but please know I consider this a priority.”

“We’ve seen to their comfort and safety Jon.” Uncle Benjen once more tried to appease him.  
“You won’t be disappointed to hear of the arrangements we have made for them.  
Let’s take a break now”, he tried once more. “Give each other some time to think on this in solitude. We could reconvene tomorrow morning when we’ve all calmed down a bit? This hasn’t been easy for you to hear, I know. But all this has taken a toll on us as well.”

Jon however still had one more pressing question.  
“Before I go back to my room, before I will encounter other people, can you please tell me exactly who knows that I am a Targaryen? Of course for now I only mean of all the people that are here at Winterfell for the moment, so I know how to act around them? The rest can wait.” 

Jon hesitated. “And I would like to know if we can tell Robb?”

His Uncle Ned was the one who replied. “Of all the people residing in Winterfell right now, the people in the know are: present company of course, my wife, and the two Kingsguards. Elsewhere, Lord Reed and Ser Arthur know as well. "

Jon looked pensive now. “Davos Seaworth, Sandor Clegane, they do not know?”

“They know some, suspect more perhaps. They will probably be the first to be let in on your identity now that you know.”

Jon nodded. 

Lord Stark still had more to say.  
“The rest of this little list can wait as you stated. Now about who we will bring into our circle, let’s discuss this during the coming days. I would ask you not to tell my son Robb anything yet. I promise I will hear your arguments tomorrow and we can try to compromise but bear in mind that Robb will have to live in close proximity with Theon and Theon is an enemy. If Robb should slip up or if Theon should overhear you talking, he would not hesitate to sign our death sentences by betraying us to the Crown.” 

Jon saw his Uncle Ned slump back in his chair, clearly worried for his heir and family.  
“I understand, Uncle.” His voice sounded solemn as he continued.  
“I promise once more that for now I won’t take any decisions or act without talking it over with you two first. I respect the risks you have already taken for me and will not put you in additional danger if I can help it. Please trust me.”

His Uncle Ned stood up and put a hand on Jon’s shoulder.  
“I am proud of you nephew. Let me in turn promise you the same. I will not make any major decisions anymore without discussing them with you first.”

Then to Jon’s amazement the proud Warden of the North knelt before him.  
“I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be my King. I swear it by the Old Gods.”

Jon looked uneasy. “Please stand, Uncle. I thank you and I vow that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour.”  
He was glad the formal response had flowed naturally from him and mentally thanked his Maester for familiarising him with court protocol. 

His Uncle Benjen now proceeded to kneel in front of him. 

“Please Uncle Benjen,” Jon pleaded. “Isn’t it way too early for this?”

“Jon,” Uncle Benjen said with a devoted look in his eyes, “I’ve sworn my sword to you when you were but a babe of a few moons old and I have served you loyally ever since. I would like to make it official.”

“It would be my honour, Uncle,” Jon replied completely awed by the steadfast allegiance of his favourite uncle.

 

***

 

Ser Oswell saw a clearly disturbed Jon return to his guest room at Winterfell. He immediately ordered Sandor Clegane to fetch Ser Gerold. Upon his arrival, Ser Oswell ordered Clegane to stay outside and guard the door. Together they entered the room where Jon was brooding before the window.

“My King,” Ser Gerold started hesitantly, “I understand you must be shocked and have a lot of questions for us.”

“I am king of nothing yet.” Jon retorted bitterly. “Perhaps I never will be, or will want to be.”

“To us you always will be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, my K… , Prince.” Ser Gerold said. “Do not make any decisions now. Wait until you have had time to let all of this sink in. You could do so much good for the people of Westeros.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Jon sighed. “Why must it be me though? I’m hardly twelve years old. I just had to watch a powerful grownup man fall to his knees before me and swear me his fealty. That is a heavy burden to take on, you know. It seems he makes me responsible for the entire North!”

“Not yet My King. He swore to help you, support you if you wanted to claim your birthright. The rest would follow later, when you are ready.” Ser Gerold tried to reassure the boy.

Ser Oswell interjected. “We have been sworn to your service since before you were born my King. Please let me make the gesture before you, openly, it would mean the world to me.”

How was Jon to refuse these loyal knights? He nodded his assent.  
Both men drew their swords and got to their knees. Once the solemn official part over, Jon tried to lift everyone’s spirits.

“Does that mean I get to order you around, instead of you me?” He tried to joke but failed since both men were taken aback by his words and were looking at each other to determine who would react.

It was Ser Gerold who carefully formulated a response. “We are sworn to obey your command my King. And we will. When it concerns matters of state, ways to go forward, we will only be advisers. When it concerns matter of safety, we hope you will not disregard our orders unless absolutely necessary. But when we take on our role as instructor, for instance during a training session, we will need to be able to exert our authority. We will need you to push on when you’re tired and we will not obey your orders to end the training or omit exercises you loathe. You must trust that we will always keep your well being in mind, but if you do not agree with this, we might as well stop training you at this point.”

Ser Oswell nodded at Ser Gerold and both looked at Jon for a reaction.

“Well, Jon said after thinking this through, “I think that I can agree on that for now. However there will come a time that I will choose how hard and how often I practice. But I agree that that is still years away. “

He then looked firmly at both his Kingsguards. “Here is my first command. Do not use the title 'my King' yet, if you want to pay me homage, I’ll reluctantly agree to 'my Prince' for the moment but would ask you to use it as little as possible. I do not feel I have earned any titles yet. Let me get used to the idea at first. I need some time to come to terms with this. Please allow me this.”

“I would however like to hear your version of my parent’s role before and during the Rebellion. Perhaps you can tell me tomorrow or the day after at the latest?”

“Of course, my Prince” Ser Gerold answered. “I presume you would want us to leave you alone for some time now?”

“I do, thank you Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell. But before you go, allow me to express my gratitude to you both from the bottom of my heart for your unwavering loyalty to my House.” 

Ser Oswell’s eyes grew wet. “My Prince” He bowed and both men left the room.

 

***

 

The next morning Jon and both his Stark uncles once more held a private meeting after breaking their fast. A lot of things were discussed. Then Jon mentioned the subject of his Targaryen relatives.

“I have thought it over, Uncle. I will wait until I have spoken to Maester Aemon. I hope he can advise me on this. Uncle Benjen told me he hears from them from time to time. I’ll ask him for a safe way to contact them.” 

Both uncles nodded their agreement.

“On the subject of Robb however, I understand your reasoning that he is too young, I really do. I know it first hand.”  
Jon frowned. “However, if I decide to pursue my birthright, I will need his unwavering loyalty. How will I gain that if I don’t trust him in the first place?” A hand gesture stopped his Uncle Ned from speaking.

“I think I should take no decisions whatsoever until after I have talked with Uncle Aemon. He has lived through several generations of Targaryens. He has seen both good and bad monarchs. I certainly want to hear his reasons for giving up his birthright.”

“When I know all the facts and I have had time to decide what to do, we will discuss this again and we will agree on the correct time to bring Robb into our conspiracy, if there still is the necessity for one.”

Jon kept up his monologue. “I would like to have your consent to tell Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane at my own discretion. I do not think I can stall this for long. They belong to my immediate circle. I need to be able to trust these people with my life. I can not do that when I fear they will turn on me because they are resentful when they learn by accident and wrongfully think I didn’t find them trustworthy enough. What’s more, it is only fair that they should know what’s at stake when they are the ones risking their lives.”

“I see you have thought this through,” his Uncle Ned reluctantly agreed. “I trust you to handle this with care. Be sure your guards are near you when you tell them though. You always need to be prepared for the worst. That way it mostly never happens.” A tiny smile crossed his uncle’s face.

They moved to safer topics after that. Uncle Benjen started talking about the logistics of the coming trip to the Wall. 

 

***

 

Jon tried to hold it together his last days at Winterfell. He spent as much time as possible with Robb and half of the time this included Arya whether they intended it or not. He knew it could be a long while before they were able to see each other again. He would miss Robb terribly. 

“We’ll compete on who can write the longest letters.” Robb had tried to joke but the look on his face had belied his tone.

“Uncle Benjen’s luggage will consist mostly of scrolls and he will hardly have any room in his saddle bags for his own belongings when he travels between us.” Jon had tried to continue the joke.

He did his utmost to act as if nothing was the matter so Robb wouldn’t ask questions Jon would so very much like to answer but he wasn’t allowed yet. It took all of his mental strength. 

As a consequence Jon cut their alone time short with some lame excuse of necessary preparations. He really needed some time to mentally recuperate from the effort of hiding his inner turmoil. 

His last evening at Winterfell, Robb had somehow known where he had hidden himself away and had found him in the middle of his brooding. His friend has simply taken the seat next to him, put his arm around Jon’s shoulders and had pulled him into him. They had stayed like that for what had seemed like a very long time to Jon, not talking just silently supporting each other, both of them aware they had to part in the morning. 

Robb probably knew something was bothering his friend but wisely choose not to ask and to let Jon decide whether he would tell him. They parted for the night with one last hug. Jon knew he would never be as close to another friend as he was to Robb. If only he could tell him he was family.

 

***

 

The next morning the travellers for the Wall had assembled in the courtyard. Davos saw Robb and Arya standing in the front row of the sending off party at the opposite site of the space. Both were struggling to hide their emotions. Until the last moment Robb had tried to persuade his father to let him come along but Lord Stark had not relented. 

The latter stood quietly beside his family giving of the impression that the Warden of the North had come out to pay his respect to his brother and travelling companions who were about to leave for the Wall. However, Davos observed that Stark’s eyes rested on Jon to the exclusion of all else. 

Jon waved one last time at Arya and Robb, nodded to Lord Stark and urged his horse onward. The small caravan followed him at a sedate pace. Jon rode upfront between his two so-called houseguards who wore similar uniforms, always donning their helmets. Sandor Clegane, Benjen Stark and Davos himself made up the second row. 

They were followed by a wagon carrying supplies for the Wall and several Stark houseguards. The end of their small procession was made up by a few brothers of the Night’s Watch with a dozen new recruits. The party from the Night’s Watch had arrived at Winterfell just in time to join their excursion. They were a welcome addition that allowed Lord Stark to keep more of his houseguards at Winterfell than initially planned. Davos would escort Jon’s small entourage back to the Driftmark by boat. His crew would complement Jon’s protection for that stretch of their journey.

Davos had been watching Jon closely these last few days. Jon was a quiet intelligent boy who was good with people. Davos had immediately taken a liking to the young orphan. When Davos had arrived at the Driftmark with Prince Oberyn and Sander Clegane, it hadn’t taken him long to connect the dots. 

He had counted back the time and quickly realised that Jon was the little baby he had sailed from Dorne to the Driftmark all those years ago. His three faithful shadows were a dead giveaway. Many years back he had seen through their disguise. He had known they were no farmers returning to their homestead after the war. Their stance had been a dead giveaway. These three were men of noble birth, knights perhaps. It had been a strange group. Davos had recognised Howland Reed since his wife and Lord Reed’s wife were cousins. The combination however of a Northern Lord, three knights in disguise and a baby was suspicious. 

But discretion had been a condition of getting the assignment and Davos had never spoken about this to anyone. Apparently in doing so he had earned the good graces of his clients because they had used his services frequently over these past ten years. And now they had asked him to work for them exclusively. Davos had not hesitated. The entire situation had intrigued him for years. 

Besides, he had grown fond of the boy. The young orphan welcomed his company and Davos couldn’t help but feel protective towards Jon, these last few days even more than ever. He was not blind. He had noticed that something had happened to Jon during that meeting with Lord Stark. Jon had kept more to himself and could often be found brooding in some corner. Robb was the only one who could get him to lighten up and share an activity together. 

But that was not the only change Davos had noticed in the boy after that fateful morning. Jon seemed more confident somehow, certainly in his interactions with Lord Stark. Where before Jon had been very deferential to Lord Stark, even a bit intimidated, he now actively sought out Lord Stark’s company and initiated their conversations. Davos had been astounded to see that the proud Warden of the North never turned the young boy away and always gave him his full attention.

 

***

 

Davos observed Jon installing his belongings into a small tent. The boy looked exhausted and a bit sad. Davos decided to offer to keep him company. It was clear that the boy could use a sympathetic ear. And since Davos couldn’t go and fetch Robb as he had secretly done when they were still at Winterfell, he decided to do the next best thing.

In the meantime, Jon had installed himself by a small fire and seeing Davos hesitate, invited the older man to keep him company.  
“Are you warm enough Davos? Have you ever been so far north?” Jon asked when Davos had found a comfortable sitting place close to him. Jon had put a piece of meat on a stick and was holding it over the fire.

“Not over land, no.” Davos replied. “But I have sailed to Eastwatch a few times and I can tell you, at sea the winds make the cold temperatures even more biting. These old bones are used to a lot, you know. I can handle it. You need not worry about me.” Davos smiled at Jon  
“That smells delicious. I think I will roast some myself.” Davos made a move to stand up and head toward the supply wagon but Jon halted him.

“I have an extra portion right here. You can take that. The piece that I am cooking now will be sufficient for me.”

Davos sat back down, prepared the offered piece of meat and started roasting it. He noticed the two knights sitting a few feet away around their own fire, seemingly engrossed in conversation but alert and taking in each movement Jon was making. He focussed his attention back to the boy.

Jon apparently was studying him as well. “Davos, why are you travelling to the Wall? Do you have business dealings with the Night’s Watch? Will you travel back with us or will we have to part company?”

Davos didn’t mind telling Jon. “I was hired by Lord Reed who acts on behalf of your entourage to join your journey to the Wall and I will also be the one to convey you safely back to the Driftmark by ship afterwards.” 

Davos had chosen his words carefully. He wanted Jon to realise that Davos knew that Jon was at the centre of this strange excursion. A young boy who could hardly be older than eleven or twelve namedays had no business at the Wall. Davos had had his suspicions all these years ago but current events confirmed that he was on the right track. He had already been able to fill out several gaps in his theories.

He saw Jon slump his shoulders and wondered if he had said the right thing. He moved a bit closer to Jon and tried to help the boy.  
“Are you all right Jon? You seem troubled these last few days. Has anyone been a nuisance to you? Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Davos was close enough so he could whisper these words. Jon would still be able to hear them over the crackling of the fire. Out of the corner of his eye Davos noticed Benjen Stark approach but the two knights signalled Stark to let Jon and Davos be. Benjen Stark complied and joined the two knights instead. 

Jon didn’t seem to mind these questions and repositioned himself slightly. His shoulders were almost touching Davos’ arm. It seemed he welcomed Davos’ effort to comfort him.  
“I’m not completely fine yet, but I’m getting there. I just got some distressing news about my parents. I am still trying to make sense of it all.” 

“I think your meat is well done.” Davos warned Jon and saw the boy divert his attention to the food.  
Jon started eating. An easy silence fell between the two of them. Davos waited until Jon had finished his meal before he resumed their conversation. 

“I will not pry Jon. You tell me, or you don’t tell me. You decide. But know that I’m here if you want to talk. Sometimes talking about things makes you feel better, gives you a clearer perspective.” Davos tilted his head and smiled at Jon.  
“Or I can always distract you with a silly tale if you prefer. I happen to know a few more since travelling with the extravagant Prince Oberyn.” 

Davos stopped when he noticed that Jon had tears in his eyes.  
“Or I can sit here in silence, just keep you company,” he added quietly.

Jon leaned against Davos looking for physical support.  
“Just sit here with me for a while” he whispered. “And thank you Davos. As soon as I will be able to tell you more, I will. For now, know that I am grateful for your company and value your advice.” 

Davos put his arm around Jon’s shoulder in an effort to offer some comfort, unknowingly imitating Robb’s gesture from the night before. Somehow this memory made Jon feel better. They stayed like that until it grew too dark and everyone retired to their tents.

 

***

 

The next morning Davos approached Benjen Stark. “Jon’s troubled. I hope Lord Stark has done right by the boy?”  
He saw Benjen Stark swallow. Davos waited patiently for a reaction. Benjen Stark seemed not to know how to respond.

“Jon is very dear to our family. We consider him part of our pack. We will always love and protect him.” He finally answered.

Davos nodded. “He is easy to love”, he confirmed and walked over to where the horses were grazing.  
When he looked towards Jon’s tent he saw Benjen Stark had joined the boy and was hugging him. 

 

***

 

Davos saw the sun’s reflection in the large structure of ice that came into view once they had left the last trees behind. It seemed they would reach Castle Black today. The journey had been uneventful. They had encountered no thieves, no Wildlings and there had been no attacks of wild beasts. Even if Davos had laid eyes on the Wall before, it remained a majestic view. 

Davos relished seeing the awe in Jon’s eyes. The boy appeared relaxed, content. Jon’s mood had improved gradually over these last two sennights on the road. Perhaps this long trip on horseback had been just what he needed. 

His close companions had clearly sensed this and had given Jon enough solitary moments to work through whatever burden that had been placed on his shoulders. They would often ride in a protective formation with the two knights up front Jon occupying the second row, Davos, Benjen and Sandor Clegane behind him closely watching his back. They mostly allowed Jon to make the first move and the choice of conversationalist when he was ready for company. 

But what delighted Davos the most was that no matter what problem Jon struggled with, the confident attitude Jon had begun to adopt during his last interactions with the Stark family hadn’t wavered. He had seen the youngster mature before his eyes. Davos was also glad to see him lighten up and make jokes with the men. Jon could strike up an amiable conversation with anyone, be it a Lord or a lowly Night‘s Watch recruit. Everyone seemed to appreciate Jon’s company. 

Davos focussed his attention back on the Wall. He thought he had heard the sound of a horn blast. Benjen Stark moved his horse closer to Davos. Clegane followed suit. 

“It seems they have spotted us already.” Benjen told the both of them.  
“They will send out a party to escort us.” 

And he was right. A short while later, a party of four men in black furs joined them and guided them along the last few miles and through the gates of Castle Black. 

 

***

Jon’s eyes took in the wooden structure that was Castle Black. It was larger than he had imagined even though Uncle Benjen had told him about the renovations that had taken place these last few years. He knew that it now housed more than a thousand men in relative comfort. The guest quarters they were assigned looked clean and functional.

Jeor Mormont had welcomed them all but Jon had noticed immediately how the man had looked at him with a wary eye. The lord Commander had questioned his Uncle Benjen’s sense in allowing such a young boy to visit here, the Wall being no pleasure park being his exact words. Mormont’s voice had boomed over the caravan so everyone had been able to hear the harsh words. Jon hadn’t known where to look.

Uncle Benjen however had calmly reached into his saddle bag and removed a scroll. Mormont had accepted it and read it on the spot. The man had granted them entrance without another word. 

 

Later in their rooms, Uncle Benjen had explained to his nephew that the scroll contained the polite request of the Warden of the North to allow Jon Celtigar access to Castle Black. He motivated his request by stating that Jon Celtigar was a good friend of his son an heir and that the boy had been working diligently on a translation of an old Valyrian diary and would appreciate their Maester’s assistance. Lord Stark had stressed he would consider it a personal favour and had reminded the Lord Commander of the continued support the North gave the Night’s Watch.

Jon had been introduced to Maester Aemon at dinner. There had been no opportunity to exchange more than a formal greeting but he had been granted a meeting with the old Maester the next day in the afternoon. Maester Aemon still had to attend to his duties as Maester of the Watch first.  
Jon had understood but he was a bit disappointed all the same. He really was impatient to meet the first member of his birth father’s family. 

He went to bed early that night and dreamt of a large maze. Daenerys was beside him and he saw himself pushing a strange chair that had two wheels instead of four legs. They were frantically making their way through the maze. He realised they were searching for Viserys but couldn’t find him, no matter how hard they tried. Jon awoke, a lingering fear remaining from his dream. Were his aunt and uncle really safe in Essos? 

He tried to shake these ominous thoughts. He got up and readied himself to go find his companions and break their fast together. The sooner he started his day and found some activity to keep busy, the quicker it would be time for the meeting with his great-great-Uncle Aemon.  
He decided to join a training session of the new recruits after he had eaten.

 

**Interlude 6: An unlikely alliance**

Oberyn was debating what exactly to tell his brother. His mission had been successful and he had all his answers. Only, he couldn’t share everything with his brother. He had been sending regular reports to his brother at Sunspear these last few years. Sometimes even briefing him personally and enjoying a few moons at home, a necessary reprieve from his years of travelling.

The first item of real importance he had learned was that the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea were safe and comfortable. Prince Doran had given him permission to use Dorne’s resources should the royal children be in need, but they clearly were not necessary. 

Oberyn had gone straight to the best source of information without travelling to Essos. He had visited Varys in Kingslanding. Not an official visit to the Crown, he would delay that as long as possible. Never would still be to soon for him! He had stayed in a luxurious brothel near the town walls and tried to make his presence obvious to some children he suspected were Varys’ little birds. 

He felt safe taking this step. He would reveal no secrets if he betrayed his interest in the wellbeing of Viserys and Daenerys. They were family, related to the Dornish by marriage. So he had had no qualms in questioning the Master of Whisperers about this. 

Varys had been more than willing to cooperate. His little birds had informed him of Prince Oberyn’s whereabouts and Varys had not hesitated in establishing contact.

“I had initially set them up in a modest house in Pentos, my Dornish friend.” Varys told Prince Oberyn. “I even sent several Targaryen loyalists their way. However, they no longer need my support. My little birds and spies across the Narrow Sea have informed me that the two royal children have been moved to a grander location.”

Prince Oberyn had frowned at this. “And who exactly is taking care of Elia’s good family?”

Varys had kept his surprise hidden and had relayed his second theory, the first one obviously erroneous now Oberyn had revealed that Dorne wasn’t behind this. 

“Mind you”, he had warned Prince Oberyn upfront, “what I am going to tell you are only strong suspicions. I have no proof but I suspect that the three former Kingsguards who disappeared without a trace could be behind it. I am still trying to sniff out how they are funding the entire operation. I have some vague clues that lead to the North but not enough proof to go on to be sure this intelligence is reliable.”

His jaw shifted slightly before continuing. “I haven’t been able to get my little birds to infiltrate the new household of the Targaryen children but somehow this is a good thing. It reassures me their safety is being taken seriously. I have one big worry however. My little birds’ latest reports mention that they are only catching glimpses of Daenerys. There seems to be no real proof that Viserys still resides in Pentos.“

Prince Oberyn had thanked Varys for the information and said he would investigate further and vaguely promised to send word to Varys if he learned anything substantial.

Upon learning from his contacts in Essos that the Prince had succumbed to an illness, he had once more conferred with Varys. Eventually both were reassured that there had been no foul play. The Prince’s death was just a tragedy but not an uncommon one. Sadly, children dying before they reached adulthood, was not an uncommon event.

 

It had been years now since he started out on this quest. His investigation currently focussed on Benjen Stark. Oberyn had investigated the North’s influence in the increased support of the Night’s Watch. 

In Essos, he had also seen first hand the large shipments of glass being shipped north. A more important detail that had caught his eye was that this cargo was transported in northern vessels!  
He hadn’t realised the North had a fleet? Scrutinising the ships, he saw they all seemed in good repair. Hells, he would even go so far as to guess that most of them were on their maiden voyage or had not encountered much rough weather yet.

Even without personally venturing into the North, Oberyn had found more clues that something was up in that Kingdom. In every port he visited there were northern ships present. And when he encountered Benjen Stark for the second time in that year in an opposite corner of the realm compared to where he had first seen him, he began to track the Northerner’s movements. When he witnessed Stark meeting a man Oberyn recognised as one of the messengers of the Targaryens in Essos, he knew this was no longer a coincidence. Oberyn remembered that the Mountain had been shipped to Dorne on a Northern vessel. The name “Manderly” had been mentioned. He also remembered Varys’ suspicions.

Oberyn had not yet informed anyone of this, neither his brother nor Varys. He wanted to get to the bottom of this first. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. There was still a minor possibility that he had this wrong and Benjen Stark was nothing more than an agent travelling a lot for the Night’s Watch. After all, his theory that the North was building up strength to declare their independence, was mere speculation. He had no real proof yet. 

He based his theory on the fact that relations between King Robert and the Warden of the North had soured. But why would they support the Targaryens? Were they planning to help them back on the throne? It didn’t make sense. Why not declare the North independent and themselves Kings of Winter again? He knew he was still missing something. So he had decided he needed more intelligence and had kept silent. 

Then there was still the fact that he was making no headway in his search for Tywin Lannister. His extensive travels had given him no clues whatsoever of the Lord’s whereabouts. 

 

Almost a year after the Greyjoy Rebellion had ended, he had almost decided to give up and head back home. This event had crushed the most important foundation of his conspiracy theories. Bards were singing song of the brave warriors that had defeated the barbarian Krakens. They always praised how valiantly Baratheons and Starks had fought side by side victorious once more. This time they had defeated the Ironborn. Apparently King Baratheon and the honourable Ned Stark had reconciled.

Oberyn had already made arrangements for a ship to take him home when he had been approached. He saw through the thin ruse of opening up trade negotiations between Dorne and the Driftmark immediately. He knew the Driftmark was a place Benjen Stark visited often. Most probably it was his secret base of operations for whatever they were up to. 

He eagerly accepted the invitation and took heart in the thought that he had been on the right track all along. He had real hope now that he was on the verge to find out what the Starks were planning and how it involved the royal children in Essos. He told his captain to change their initial destination and headed for the Driftmark instead.

 

***

 

All the years of speculation and inventing theories had not prepared him for Jon. Oberyn had been welcomed by Benjen Stark who had been at the harbour when Oberyn’s ship docked at the small island. Together they had travelled the few miles to a small settlement. They had kept to small talk during their short journey on horseback.

It was still a long time before dinner when they had entered a courtyard where a knight was teaching a young boy how to fight. Although they were training with wooden swords, the knight was in full armour, complete with helmet. The boy, he could be no more than eleven years old, was dressed up in boiled leathers and his face was also hidden by a helmet. He seemed an apt student and Oberyn was entranced by his elegant footwork. ‘He would easily adapt to our Dornish fighting techniques’, Oberyn couldn’t help but thinking. 

The boy had seen them enter and immediately lowered his sword and seemed to ask permission for something. The knight stepped back and the boy rushed up to greet Benjen Stark who had dismounted while Oberyn had been watching the sparring. 

“Uncle Benjen! You are back!” The boy hugged Stark affectionately. 

Oberyn saw the obvious regard Stark had for the boy as well.  
‘Uncle?’, Oberyn couldn’t help but wondering. 

But then it happened. The boy took of his helmet and shook out his dark curls. Although Oberyn saw the dark grey Stark eyes something in his face, perhaps his cheekbones, his chin, the way the boy moved, seemed familiar. 

‘Did Benjen Stark have a bastard, one with Southern blood?’ Oberyn senses were on full alert. He was sure now it was all about the boy.

He studied Benjen Stark who met his eyes wearily. Then he looked over to the knight who had removed his helmet as well. ‘It was Ser Arthur Dayne! Of course, how could he not have recognized the fighting style of his former friend? Hells, he should have recognized it in the way the boy had fought as well.’ 

He almost stumbled and didn’t know how to act. ‘Ser Arthur Dayne, was alive. He was in Westeros and was connected to this boy how? The boy was a Stark, if Ser Arthur Dayne was his family as well, it could be through his mother’s blood that he was a Stark. Lyanna’, he thought and then the next idea struck him and he staggered an sat down not caring if the ground was wet or whether he soiled his clothes.  
‘Rhaegar! Ser Arthur was protecting Rhaegar’s offspring, a child with Lyanna Stark, a royal bastard, a Blackfyre!’

Both Stark and Ser Arthur were looking at him apprehensively. Both had their hands on the pommel of their swords. He noticed his erstwhile friend did not carry Dawn. 

“Prince Oberyn?” Ser Arthur handed him a drink.  
“I know it is a shock. But I am alive, have been all this time. For the sake of the esteem we both had for Rhaegar, will you let us explain?” 

Oberyn looked around searching for the boy. It seemed they had ushered him somewhere else, safe from the possible threat that Oberyn presented now that he suspected who he could be.  
“The boy is Rhaegar’s spawn? You want to put a bastard on the throne?” Oberyn spit out. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure. He watched both men, studying their reactions carefully.

Stark’s eyes had darkened with a murderous expression on his face and he had stepped closer to Oberyn. He was about to give an angry retort when Ser Arthur stepped between the two of them. 

“Best get somewhere private before everyone hears what we are talking about. Prince Oberyn, would you be willing to hand over your weapons? All of them.” He added after Oberyn had given him his sword and one dagger. 

Frustrated Oberyn looked at the both of them but then proceed to somehow pull another four daggers from his person. Ser Arthur scanned him thoroughly and asked.  
“Can you give me your word of honour that you are not carrying any other objects that can harm the boy?” 

Oberyn looked at him defiantly “Will you be satisfied with my word of honour? I solemnly swear that I won’t harm anyone while staying on this island? Unless I have to defend myself of course,” he added as an afterthought.  
“I have been very compliant. I haven’t been this defenceless amongst strangers in a long time. Put yourself in my shoes? Would you want to be completely unarmed amongst strangers?” he grumbled.

Ser Arthur laughed, breaking the tension. He patted Oberyn’s shoulder.  
“You? Defenceless? Even unarmed my Prince, I am well aware you are far from defenceless. Besides, we are no strangers. We are former friends, possibly future allies.” 

He helped Oberyn on his feet and they walked towards the small cottage where the three knights had lived many years.

 

***

 

A long discussion ensued. First Oberyn had been infuriated.

“ Rhaegar’s annulled his marriage? He took another wife?!”

“He didn’t change the succession. Elia’s son was still going to be first in line of the succession. He had it written out, signed by witnesses. Elia agreed.” Ser Arthur had argued and told him there was proof. 

“We have correspondence in our possession between Rhaegar and Maester Aemon at the Wall, written proof that your sister had been consulted and had approved of the idea. Apparently she had been scared that she would not have survived another pregnancy and would continue to live with Rhaegar and raise their royal children together. Targaryens were known to do things like that.”

Oberyn’s temper had softened and he seemed more willing to listen. He had asked to see one of these so called letters and Ser Arthur had procured one, handing it over reluctantly and keeping a close eye on Prince Oberyn.  
“The scrolls signed by the High Septon containing the annulment and wedding are safely stored in a secret place in the North.” He added after Oberyn had returned the letter to him.

 

“Why call the boy Aegon though, who calls his second son after his own dead child?” Oberyn had sighed. “I don’t know if I can call him that.”

“We think it was not Rhaegar’s doing. He was dead by the time Lyanna gave birth. He knew she was with child but I do not think they discussed names. Or if they did, perhaps Lyanna changed their original choice after learning of the death of his two firstborns? It was probably her way of honouring her husband’s murdered children. If nothing else, we think it further proof that both parts of Rhaegar’s family had been on good terms with each other.” Ser Arthur completed his explanation. 

At the end of their talk, Oberyn was reconciled with what he had learned. He was glad that none of the stories circling about the missing Kingsguards had been true. They were alive and had retained their honour. 

He had congratulated the Starks on their conniving plot for neutralising Tywin Lannister. If anyone else had told him, he would not have believed them. ‘And here I thought the Starks were the most honourable House in the Seven Kingdoms. It seems they are the most devious. To get away with all this scheming and still have such an upstanding reputation! I wonder if Eddard Stark still sleeps well at night?’

How he felt about the boy however, he was not sure yet. He had agreed to stay at the Driftmark for a sennight and take this time to observe the little Prince without raising his suspicion.

Oberyn had been warned that the Prince still did not know his real origins. He would be formally introduced to Jon Celtigar at dinner where he could also get the opportunity to reacquaint himself with Ser Gerold.

 

Eddard Stark had been right in his predictions. Oberyn did like the idea of thwarting the Baratheon-Lannister alliance and had easily agreed to keep Prince Doran out of the loop for now, already relishing the moment he could show his brother that acting yielded better results than this passive approach his elder brother always relied upon. 

He couldn’t help but soften upon hearing their arguments that the boy was a half brother to Elia’s children and that Oberyn would have done the same to keep his kin safe had he been given the chance. Babies were innocent of the circumstances of their birth.

 

***

 

It was a sunny day and Prince Oberyn was aroused from his sleep by the sound of arrows hitting a wooden target. The position of the sun that streamed its light from high up through his little window made him realise it was almost the middle of the day.  
‘No wonder I overslept’, he muttered to himself. ‘A man could get drunk from less.’  
He hurried through his morning ablutions quickly broke his fast and joined the men outside in the training yard.

Jon had just finished his target practice and was sitting down drinking some water. He stood politely when he saw Oberyn Martell approach.  
“Did you sleep well Prince Oberyn?” The boy tried to open the conversation.

“Late enough, it seems.” Oberyn tried a jovial tone. He was curious to get to know the boy Ser Arthur had raved about last night. Oberyn had only been able to exchange courtesies with him during the evening meal the day before.

He saw Jon struggle to find another topic of conversation.  
“What is your weapon of preference if you spar Prince Oberyn?” Jon asked after a moment.

“Definitely a spear.” Oberyn didn’t hesitate. “I like to make fools of knights trying to fight with swords that have not half the reach of my long spear.” He saw Ser Arthur narrow his eyes and added, “Most knights, not all of them.”

“I would love to see that.” He saw Jon look at him expectantly 

‘Of course the boy would’, Oberyn thought. ‘Not today though I don’t feel like it.’  
Aloud he said. “There’s no one here I would want to fight. You’re not there yet young man, and well, let’s just say I promised myself that I would never fight my good friend over there ever again.” He and Ser Arthur shared an amused look.

“Can you at least show me how you handle a spear? I mean twirl it without dropping it? I have never seen a man handle a spear before.” 

Damn those puppy eyes!  
Well perhaps I would, but I didn’t bring one with me.” He evaded.

“We have one here in our armoury.” Jon was already on his feet. I’ll get it for you.” And before Ovebyn could react Jon had stormed off a highly entertained Ser Arthur on his trail.

Jon returned having difficulty carrying three spears of different lengths.  
“Can you try with one of these, Prince Oberyn? These were the only ones available.” Hopeful dark eyes met his.

There was no reasonable objection he could think of so he stood up and chose the middle one. ‘No harm in showing him a few moves.’

Jon watched mesmerized as Oberyn moved in all directions the spear gliding along in perfect symmetry up and down, forwards, sideways.  
Oberyn soaked up his adoration. He started to give short explanations in between moves. When to use a particular move, the possible countermoves of his opponent, how he would react and so on.

At one point Jon approached him. “Prince Oberyn, I did not understand that last bit. Maybe if I took the position of your opponent and you could repeat that move once more? It would make it easier for me. That was a difficult counterattack to visualize.”

 

‘Did I just get played by a small boy?’ Oberyn berated himself a short while later.

Somehow the boy he had tricked Oberyn into volunteering to teach him the basics of fighting with a spear and defending against an opponent that wielded one. They had sparred a bit and Oberyn conceded he had enjoyed it immensely. Well it was easy teaching a boy who had been tutored by the Sword of the Morning. He had even promised the little Prince another sparring session, where the youth would be wielding a spear as Prince Oberyn defended.

Over the next few days Oberyn made an effort to discuss various topics with the boy. Unlike his daughters he had to draw him out. ‘If there was a negative quality to him, it was that he was too deferential, too considerate. He needed to grow some balls. His daughters could teach him.’  
That thought had amused him.

Prince Oberyn had left the Driftmark full of energy and couldn’t wait to set all the agreed upon schemes in motion. He would teach those Northerners how the Dornish could work effectively behind the scenes. Besides, he hardly needed to take any risks.

He was fully committed and looked forward to seeing Elia’s stepson sit on that much coveted throne. Perhaps he could even get him to marry one of his daughters? The Prince didn’t strike him as someone who would look down on a person because of his birth and his daughters were beauties.  
‘Yes, he would show both the Northerners and Prince Doran!’

 

***

Ser Arthur was satisfied. His report would be brief. Lord Stark hadn’t overestimated Jon’s magnetism. The boy had removed Prince Oberyn’s last doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we talk about dragons and direwolves.  
> We also will see Varys and Ser Barristan again.


	8. Of wolves and dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all really.  
> The interlude features the end of Ser Barristan’s suffering and I do not mean his death :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is still unbeta’d.

Maester Aemon sat in his study waiting for the arrival of Rhaegar’s only remaining son. He had wanted to speak to the child years ago. Instead he had been restricted to corresponding with Aegon in lengthy letters that took moons to reach the Prince since all correspondence between the two of them had to be carried by Benjen Stark or another messenger sent directly from the Prince’s entourage. There was no other way he was allowed to reach out to the boy. Well the Starks had kept him safe for almost twelve years now. So, at least they were doing something right. 

At first this delay hadn’t bothered the Maester too much. But ever since a heavily disguised Ser Arthur Dayne had shown up at the Wall a few years ago carrying the three dragons eggs Lord Reed had instructed him to find, Maester Aemon had been urging the Starks to bring the Targaryen to him. The Maester was scared he would die of old age before he could convey the closely kept secrets of House Targaryen to the rightful heir to the throne. If there was any justice in this cruel world, one of the eggs might respond to the true King’s touch, if they were lucky perhaps two, or all three? He was tired of speculating.

He had been introduced to the Prince yesterday evening and had immediately felt a kinship with the child. He had reminded himself to call him by his alias and not show the boy any more attention than a formal greeting. But finally the wait was over. His grand-grand-nephew would be here anytime now. Maester Aemon was ready. He had been prepared for this visit for a very long time already. He had checked once more this morning that all the books he had brought with him when he had arrived at the Wall all those years ago were within reach. He had also verified he still knew all the secret places where the Targaryen artifacts were hidden in his room so he could ask his nephew to take them out if the conversation went as well as he had envisioned a thousand times by now.

 

And here it was, the eagerly awaited knock on the door! He heard the young boy enter together with the already familiar steps of Benjen Stark. Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark had indulged in several lengthy conversations over the years. They featured the topic of the well being and education of Rhaegar’s son first and foremost, but also the situation at the Wall and the Wildling threat were topics they talked about at length. Benjen Stark had often been his scribe when he dictated letters to his young nephew.

Maester Aemon would allow Stark to keep them company for a short while. Enough to give the Prince the opportunity to grow comfortable with his old uncle and then he would demand a private audience with his kin. Some things were for Targaryen eyes and ears only, no matter how much gratitude he owed the Starks for keeping this young man safe at the risk of their own lives.

“Come here my Prince”, he encouraged the boy. “Let me feel the contours of your face. My old eyes have not seen any light in a very long time. I would like to get to know the son of my grandnephew. And these are my only means to imagine what you look like.” He lifted his two hands up a bit.

“I am very honoured to finally make your acquaintance in person, Maester Aemon and would like to take this opportunity to thank you once more for all the kind advise you have given me in the past”, the boy replied politely. Maester Aemon felt the boy gently take one of his hands and bring it to his face.  
“I’m am kneeling in front of you now. I am taller than this Maester.” Aemon heard the smile in Aegon’s voice. 

“When in private, I give you leave to call me Uncle.” He hadn’t expected he would warm up to the boy this quickly. “Great-great-Uncle is such a mouthful. You can reserve the title Maester Aemon for when we are in company.” His hand felt the smile grow larger on his nephews face. 

“I thank you, Uncle”, the boy immediately complied. 

The Maester moved his hand from Aegon’s face to his shoulder.  
“Greetings to you as well Stark.” Aemon looked in the direction where he had heard the man take a seat. I trust the journey here was uneventful?” 

“We got here safe and in good time.” Stark replied. “I have to convey to you the regards of my elder brother Eddard Stark and I would like to entreat you to keep in mind that Aegon has only known of his kinship with you for two sennights now. He prefers to be addressed as Jon.” 

“I really don’t mind making an exception for the Maester”, the boy immediately countered. Outside these chambers I am Jon, but in here we are two Targaryens who share blood.” 

Aemon felt his old eyes grow moist. He still had his hands on Jon’s shoulder and patted it mildly, conveying his appreciation of that thoughtful comment. “Take a seat nephew. Pull that chair up if you will and sit close to me.“ 

He turned his head in the direction of Stark again. “Would you mind allowing us some time to talk in private? I will call for you once we’re done for today and will send the boy back with you. I promise I won’t let him leave this room unescorted.”

“It is all right,Uncle Benjen.” The boy replied, softly confirming to Aemon that Stark had been hesitating.  
He heard Stark mumble something to the boy and leave the room.

The boy now addressed him. “You will have to be patient with me, Uncle. I am still coming to terms with all I have been told. I think I have accepted who my family is. I am not sure how I feel about all the political repercussions though. All I keep hearing is that I must claim the throne. That it is my birthright but also my duty.” He paused. Aemon could almost hear him thinking.

“I don’t mind you speaking your mind, Aegon. Tell me what’s bothering you and I will see what I can do to help.” He hoped he had struck the right tone. He wanted the boy to open up to him.

“Well, I can’t help to think that if anyone can understand my lack of initial enthusiasm, it would be you, Uncle. You could have ruled Westeros. I hope you don’t mind such a blunt statement so soon after meeting me.” The boy seemed to have found his resolve.

“Any ruler with a lick of sense would be hesitant,” his uncle reassured. “The ones who want the throne just for the sake of power and acclaim are not suited for such a responsibility. I have already learned a lot, from these first few moments, my young charge. I had already gathered from our correspondence that you are intelligent, so you will have no problem to understand that my circumstances at the time I made this very important decision were completely different from the ones you face now. I already was a part of the Night’s Watch before my older brother died and I still had a worthy living successor. My choice did not leave the realm in chaos, at least not for the erstwhile foreseeable future.” 

He paused and took his nephew’s hand to soften the words he knew would be hard to hear for the boy. “I am sorry to say this but you are the best hope for Westeros as far as I can tell. Your claim is superior to Viserys’ and the reports from Essos mention the mental health of the Prince is deteriorating notwithstanding the care he is being given. I am sorry to tell you but it will be very likely that one of the next reports from Essos will convey news of his death. The Prince is very ill.”

He could hear the boy exhale loudly and guessed he was trying to come to terms with this. He waited a bit, listening closely to Jon’s breathing and continued when he sensed the boy was calmer.

“I just wanted to say that as long as I live I will be here to advise and help you. You will not have to do all of it alone, Aegon. Besides, there are upsides to being a Targaryen. Wait until you know all the closely kept secrets of our house. One of them is a beautiful gift for you.”  
He could hear the boy shift in his chair. He was probably sitting up. He had been able to catch the boys interest.

“The head of House Targaryen is entitled to wield a Valyrian sword. Nothing else would be good enough don’t you think?” He teased the boy.

“A Valyrian sword? Are you speaking true, Uncle? I have only heard of Dark Sister and Blackfyre? Aren’t they both lost?” Aemon could hear the excitement building in his nephew’s voice.

Go to the right side of the fire hearth, and search the floor for a tile that is a shade lighter than the others. You can also recognise it because of its chipped corner.”  
He could hear the boy leave his chair even before he had finished speaking.  
“Now lift it and you should see a package wrapped in cloth in the space below it. You may take it out and unwrap it.” 

“It’s rather heavy, Uncle.” 

“Just lift one corner and slide it to the right. Once it starts moving, the difficult part is over.” He heard Jon successfully move the stone.

“I see two packages, Uncle. I suppose I should take out the tall slim one?” 

Aemon nodded and an exclamation could be heard almost immediately.  
“If my history lessons were accurate this is Blackfyre, I recognise the big red ruby on the hilt. It also seems more robust than how I had pictured Dark Sister”, he heard the Prince say.

“It is Blackfyre”, he confirmed. “It was recovered and brought to me years ago. I had a premonition the right owner would come and claim it eventually. It is yours Aegon. I hear your training is going well and you will be a worthy owner. Best put it back for now. You can take it with you when you leave us in two sennights. But keep it covered. It would betray your origins in one instant, never mind your dark curls. I have heard Ser Arthur tell me there is much of Rhaegar in you.” 

“Should I forget, remind me to tell you later about a folk tale regarding the Long Night and a Song of Ice and Fire before you leave. It was something your father loved to talk about. I can give you a book to read about that as well.” Aemon rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry my young charge, I am getting off topic.” 

“Don’t worry, Uncle”, Jon assured him, “I would like to read that book and I will make sure to remind you. Please ask me anything you want.”

“I want to hear you tell me some more about your life so far. Your letters over the years have only heightened my curiosity. Fill me in and leave nothing out. Would you be willing to start by explaining the bond you have with your dog, Max? That part of your heritage is new to the Targaryens.”

A significant while later Jon summoned a steward to fetch his Uncle Benjen. I seemed he had worn Uncle Aemon out. The old man was softly snoring in his chair. Jon still had many questions left. He would make sure they had plenty of opportunities to talk some more the coming days.

 

***

 

**Several days later, somewhere on the road between castle Black and Eastwatch.**

‘Fire and blood, Fire and blood’, the mantra repeated over and over in Jon’s head. They had started the journey towards Eastwatch where Davos Seaworth’s ship would be waiting for them. His mind was still reeling with everything his great-great-Uncle Aemon had told Jon. He couldn’t wait to return to the Driftmark. There were three dragons eggs safely wrapped and tucked in an additional saddle bag he would not leave out of his sight. He would sleep with the bag under his bedfurs. They were too precious. 

 

Jon had never felt such protectiveness before. The moment he had spotted the green egg, a feeling of belonging had come over him. When he had touched the egg it had felt warm under his touch and he could have sworn he had felt the egg reaching out to his mind. Maester Aemon had been elated when Jon had described what he experienced. He had urged Jon to try touching the other eggs as well. The beautiful white egg with silver sparkles was also warm to the touch and Jon felt a kinship with it, although nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling the green egg had provoked in him. The black egg however left him indifferent. It could as well have been just a shiny black stone. 

His Uncle Aemon had reassured him that he had already exceeded his expectations. His father, Rhaegar had desperately tried to connect with the eggs and failed. Jon stood a good chance to hatch two living dragons in the near future. The black egg was perhaps destined for Daenerys or for one of his future children. At least that was what Maester Aemon had implied.

Of course Jon would start the hatching process that his uncle had described in great detail only when he was safely installed on the island once more. They would return to the Driftmark. If he was successful Jon and his guards would spend a lot of time on the most eastern point of the island. Nobody lived there at the moment since there was not much besides rocks and harsh winds. But Jon had once ventured there and played in caves that were big enough to provide shelter for growing dragons. His guards could easily travel between the small settlement and the caves. If they travelled on horseback they could make the journey back to the settlement in no time. Even on foot it would take no more than half a day.

It would be the ideal place to raise them and teach them to fly without attracting attention. Jon would make sure that all possible precautions were being taken to keep the existence of the eventual dragons a secret as long as possible. If he already felt this protective towards the eggs. The Gods knew what he would be willing to do to protect tiny vulnerable dragons. He suspected he would not hesitate to use lethal force against anyone who dared to threaten them.

Jon remembered with unease Uncle Aemon’s advise regarding the Targaryen bloodline.  
He had seen the man hesitate before he advised him.  
“Aegon, you should realise Targaryen blood is important to control dragons. If you are successful in hatching one or more dragons, you should consider marrying your aunt, Daenerys.”

Jon had started to protest but his great-great-uncle had put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.  
“Dragons live for several hundreds of years and an uncontrolled dragon could bring doom to the realm. If your children’s blood is too weak, they will not be able to control them. You would have to kill your dragons before you die.”

“My blood is only half Targaryen”, Jon had protested. 

“You are lucky Aegon. Apparently the Stark blood contains magic as well and it appears it doesn’t lessen your Targaryen abilities. Against all odds, it seems to have enhanced them. But to further dilute your blood would not be advisable with dragons back into the world.”

“But she’s my aunt! I can not marry an aunt.” Jon really didn’t want to discuss this now.

Jon had been blindsided by his uncle’s demand. He was still coming to terms with the idea of possibly being responsible for owning, let alone controlling a dragon, and now this?

“Technically she is your aunt. But she is also just a girl of an age similar to yours. She is a virtual stranger to you. You have not grown up together. Targaryens have done stranger things.”  
His Targaryen uncle seemed determined to convince his nephew.

“There are still a lot of ifs in your reasoning, Uncle. I will take it one step at a time. Let me first get these eggs safely to the Driftmark and see what happens then. Even if they hatch, it is not a given the baby dragons will live to reach adulthood. By the time they do, I will be older and more capable of making decisions about marriage.”

His uncle had stayed silent for a while but finally had warned him that while it was wise to take it slowly for now, one should always plan his next steps. 

 

Jon tried to focus on the road ahead. Sandor Clegane was riding beside him. Luckily, the knight was not a talkative guy and left Jon to his own thoughts most of the time. 

“Glad to be leaving the Wall and the cold behind soon?” Jon didn’t want to ignore the man the entire journey. Besides he always liked his unique way of describing things. Clegane didn’t disappoint.

“Never knew it could get so fucking cold. A guy has to keep moving the entire time not to freeze his balls off. Certainly when there are no fucking opportunities to f ... “ He remembered just in time he was speaking to a twelve year old.  
He tried again. “Never mind, I’m no whiner anyway. I hate fire, but now I’m almost grateful the barbaric thing exists.”

Jon smiled. He felt lighter already. They were nearing some woods. Going around would take them much longer as going through. He looked at Uncle Benjen for guidance.

His uncle didn’t disappoint. “There is a small path we can follow a bit further to the right. I’ll lead the way.” 

Some time later, something itched in the back of Jon’s mind. He shook his head but the strange feeling only got stronger.

 

***

 

Ser Oswell startled when Jon, who had been keeping in formation the entire time, suddenly led his horse to the right and without any warning left the road and headed deeper into the woods. A short panicked look at Ser Gerold and the two knights immediately went after their charge. They weren’t familiar with these woods and Benjen Stark had repeatedly warned everyone to stay alert for possible wild animals or roaming Wildings. 

Swords drawn the two knights reached the clearing in the woods where the boy’s horse stood without its rider. They scanned the area and saw their Prince on his knees next to a dead wolf, if it even was a wolf? If it was, it certainly was the largest one they had ever seen. 

Benjen Stark appeared next to them. “It is a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark”, he told them quietly. “I didn’t know some had ventured south of the Wall. I have only caught glimpses of them beyond the Wall when I accompanied the rangers of the Night’s Watch on a scouting mission. They are scared as hell of them”. 

The three of them watched entranced as Jon took out five little whelps who were still trying to get milk from their dead mother. 

“Jon,” Benjen Stark whispered though a warning could still be heard in his voice. “It is possible that the father is not far out. Leave them be and let’s get back to the road. We must get out of these woods before dark.”

Jon however didn’t get up. The small animals clearly welcomed the attention Jon bestowed on them.  
“We will take them with us,” he declared. “There are five of them. You have two nieces and two nephews and Lady Catelyn is about to give birth to a fifth. They belong to House Stark. It will be my gift to them.”

“Jon,” his uncle intervened, “we are not on our way to Winterfell. You realise they are direwolves? Direwolves are wild animals.”

“They are the sigil of your house. Lord Reed gave me a vague premonition before we parted and I cannot help but feel this is what was always meant to happen. If they are raised from mere whelps alongside the Stark children, they will be tame enough. When we reach Eastwatch we will send them to Winterfell with the next trading convoy. When we board the ship, I would ask that you Uncle, take them to my cousins in Winterfell yourself.” Jon’s voice trailed off.

He touched his head then looked over to the far side of the clearing. He gently put the whelps down beside his uncle and went over to investigate the far corner of the clearing where he had seen something white flash beneath the leaves. He signalled the two knights to keep their distance and carefully crept closer to that spot so he would not scare anything away. 

He knelt once more and gently removed a little white creature with red eyes from under the bushes. It was an albino direwolf whelp, clearly the runt of the litter. This little one was for him, Jon was sure. His mind gently nudged the little wolf’s mind and it responded by licking Jon’s face enthusiastically. 

Jon straightened and turned back around. “Please Uncle, let’s pick them up and put them in a box on the wagon. I will personally care for them until we reach Eastwatch.  
Not deterred by his uncle’s disapproving scowl he urged, “Didn’t the Starks of old have direwolves riding beside them into battle?”

Benjen sighed and relented. “We’ll try to take them with us. But at the first sight of their father, we will release them. You wouldn’t want to be attacked by an angry full grown direwolf.” 

It was an uneasy procession that walked back to the road. The knights kept a worried eye on the small animals carried by Jon and Benjen Stark. 

“I’ll take care of this one.” Jon stated resolutely tucking the white wolf under his coat instead of putting in the wooden box. He would not be parted from this little white creature. This one was coming with him to the Driftmark.

Jon felt a small victory when everyone complied be it reluctantly. ‘There were advantages to being the ‘rightful heir’ to the Iron Throne. He could perhaps take somewhat advantage of this once in a while?’ 

He didn’t have to check. His mind felt the little wolf had gone to sleep safely tucked in against Jon’s chest. Jon had yet to hear a sound coming from the small animal. ‘Ghost’, he thought, ‘his name shall be Ghost and Jon felt his mind relax as well. For the first time in sennights all was right in his world.

 

***

 

Jon stood at the railing of the ship watching the Wall disappear. It stayed an impressive sight.  
He turned and went to the bridge where Davos seemed to be watching the same thing.  
Jon waited patiently for the man to finish contemplating the disappearing structure and turn his attention to him.

“I have long been wanting to tell you something, Davos. Could we perhaps retreat to your cabin or do you know of a better place for a private conversation?”

Davos had expected to hear about Jon’s lineage. However he had been blown away by the talk of dragon eggs and the possibility of living dragons. He had refused Jon’s option of bowing out once things got too dangerous and had solemnly pledged his loyalty and support to whatever Jon would decide next.

The conversation with Sandor Clegane had gone a bit differently. Jon had reluctantly agreed to let Ser Gerold stand witness to it, bearing in mind his promise to Uncle Ned.  
However he had ordered the knight to be as inconspicuous as possible. Jon had emphasised he should turn a deaf ear to any insults or curse words Clegane would possibly utter and not take them as personal insults to their Prince. The only valid reason to interfere would be if Clegane threatened to bodily harm him which Jon believed to be highly unlikely. Ser Gerold had stayed by the door not moving a muscle, but his hand was closed to his sword.

Sandor Clegane had listened to Jon without interrupting him. When he was sure Jon had nothing more to add he had thrown some questions at Jon.

“Does that mean I get a raise?” Was his first reaction.

Jon had been taken aback but had tried to keep his tone light.  
“Do you want to get one? I don’t even know what you are paid now any way.” He waited nervously for the next salvo from Clegane.

“I’m not gonna kiss your boots or lick your arse, yer Grace. I’m not going to have to call you your Grace now am I?” He grumbled.

“Just stick with Jon for now.” Jon still watched him warily.

“As long as you do not turn into one of those stuck up, no good for nothing nobles who don’t look you in the face when they order you to kill some poor woman or child.” He uttered. “Damn, I really liked you kid!”

“I’m still me. I’m still a kid. You have my permission to tell me when I’m acting ‘stuck up’.” Jon started to relax a bit. He estimated Clegane’s initial reactions were promising.

“You bet ye, I will!” was the assertive response.  
But then Clegane suddenly seemed to shrink. Jon noticed his eyes looking agitated at him.  
“I refused Lord Lannister’s offer because I wasn’t going to die for some fucking throne. He looked Jon straight in the eye and asked, “Am I going to die fighting for some fucking throne?”

“You might, if you decide to stick with me.” Jon replied honestly.  
“I don’t know yet how dangerous it will get if we decide to go through with it. I would try to use a diplomatic approach, perhaps bluff a bit, but I can not promise you it will not come to fighting.” 

It was time for the big gamble.  
“I will release you from your service if you give me your word of honour that you will keep my secret. I must be honest though, I would prefer it if you chose to stick with me. You’ve proven to be a loyal guard and a good friend so far.”  
Jon hesitated but decided to be blunt, “I would rely on you to cut through all the bullshit and tell me to my face what is going on, or what I could be doing wrong.” 

Jon thought this could still go either way. He waited with bated breath to see how the man would react.

However Clegane didn’t take long to make up his mind. He drew his sword and went to his knees. From the corner of his eye Jon saw Ser Gerold’s hand tighten around his sword’s pommel. He warned him to stand down with a stern look.

After the usual protocol had been dispensed with and Clegane had risen back to his feet, Jon added, “I can ask Ser Gerold to knight you, if you want. I will officially name you a member of my Kingsguard if you consent.” 

I ain’t no fucking knight, boy. And you’re no King yet. Think I will not protect you without some fancy title?” 

Jon hadn’t expected anything different.  
“No, I trust you with my life, Clegane. Already have, and will continue to do so. I thank you for your loyalty.” 

Jon saw Ser Gerold relax. _'It had gone rather well, hadn’t it?'_

 

***

 

**Sennights later somewhere in the Driftmark.**

‘Fire and blood, it seemed so simple. Of course the blood should belong to the person that bonded with the egg so that meant it was only simple for the Targaryen destined to hatch it. It had taken Jon no more than a sennight to see a tiny green dragon crawl from the cracked egg shell. 

Not sure the procedure would work he had minimised the risk and exposed only one egg to the fire that he had burning inside the cave at all times His two loyal knights took up guard duty and kept the fire going while Jon slept. They knew nothing of the small blood ritual however. Jon always performed it when the knights were outside guarding the entrance. They had no problem leaving Jon alone when he requested solitude for small periods of time. Their King was safe in there since there was only one entrance to the cave.

Uncle Aemon had been adamant. Only Targaryens who showed the potential for bonding with a dragon should be initiated into the process of this hatching ritual. It was dangerous to spread the knowledge amongst those who were ‘unworthy’ as his great-great-uncle called it. 

Summerhall had burned down because an ‘unworthy’ Targaryen had tried to hatch the eggs without having a bond with them. Uncle Aemon had told him the tale. Frustrated, by their failure they had stoked the fires higher and when that hadn’t worked they had tried every accelerant the Maesters could come up with. The result had been the total destruction of Summerhall and the death of King Aegon V and his eldest son Duncan Targaryen.

Jon shook his head. ‘Fire and Blood‘, it really had been simple. He took the shiny silver-white egg carefully out of the fire and reopened the cut he had made the first time he performed the ritual. Just a few drops each day, his great-great-uncle had instructed him. Jon followed these instructions to the letter. The small baby dragon watched the proceedings with keen eyes. It seemed the tiny green creature understood the importance of what his human was doing. Jon stroked its wings softly then put the egg back into the fire, careful not to burn himself. 

He had noticed he was not as sensitive to fire as everyone else, but he could still get burned. If that happened however, he healed faster than the average burn victim. His Targaryen uncle had told him that Targaryens often had this ability to resist fire easier than non-Targaryens. He had told stories of his forefathers in Old Valeria who were rumoured to be totally fire resistant. He admitted that he didn’t know whether the stories were true or if it had been just exaggerated tales of the ability Jon displayed. Anyway it was a useful quality for a dragonrider. 

Aemon also believed that the fire of the dragon, or dragons he bonded with should not be able to hurt him, if the old books on dragonlore were to be believed. Jon had been gifted one of these books and guarded it with his life. The book was mostly in High Valyrian and Maester Aemon had had to teach him how to decipher the most sensitive parts that were gibberish if you didn’t know the correct way to read them. It was a variant of the code he would use for his correspondence with his kin in Essos. Jon had already started his first letter and Uncle Benjen had promised to provide him with a discreet messenger who would carry his letter to his aunt and uncle in person.

He had agreed to take precautions but would not be prevented from trying to establish contact between them. If they believed him to be who he was, he would stay in contact and double his efforts to create a safe place for them in Westeros so they could come home. He had his eye on Dragonstone. It would probably be some years before that could be arranged, but he would make it happen.

Jon’s musings were interrupted when a small ball of white fur leapt into his arms and startled the little green dragon. “Hello there Ghost.” The little direwolf blinked his puppy eyes at him.  
“Be kind to this little dragon. He is part of our pack”, he gently told Ghost.  
“We need a name for him though.” He looked at the little dragon, trying to enter his mind. 

‘Rhaegal’, the name echoed in both their minds. “Rhaegal”, he tried out loud. The dragon nestled himself against Jon’s chest only inches away from where Ghost was situated. The puppy looked at the tiny dragon and whined quietly. The matter was settled. Rhaegar and Ghost carefully looked each other over before falling asleep.

Jon returned his attention to the egg that was lying in the middle of the fire that warmed the cave.  
‘It won’t be long now and I will be responsible for three children’, he thought and somehow it felt the right term when he thought of the little wolf and dragon. They were family, he would be their parent.

 

 

 

**Interlude 7: The value of an oath**

 

Ser Barristan had been sitting in this little tavern for over most of the afternoon now. Normally he never ventured so far from the Keep. However he had to admit, the small establishment was nicer than he would have guessed from the outside. It was clean, not too crowded and the food had been tasty. The ale, well he would enjoy it more if he wouldn’t be so nervous. 

The cryptic messages had started to arrive a moon ago, brief messages questioning his loyalty, his honour. As if his life wasn’t taxing enough, standing behind a door hearing a drunken King enjoying himself with Gods know how many whores at the same time. Barristan also had to stand beside him straight faced, seeing him neglect his duties, being rude and even dishonourable at times. He preferred guarding the royal children, although lately the crown prince had become a pain in the ass. Luckily Myrcella and Tommen were still agreeable children. And to think he had come so close to becoming Kingsguard to a noble King. How things could have been different if his friend Prince Rhaegar had succeeded in deposing his mad father. 

Barristan sipped from the tepid ale. He hoped that he could put an end to this nonsense today. He hadn’t hesitated when the last message stated a meeting time and a place. Not even when he was ordered to come alone. He had been offended when he had read the last line were it stated no harm would come to him, that at least the messenger’s honour could be trusted. Well if he got killed today, so be it. He didn’t really care any longer.

He scanned the room once more. Had that far corner been occupied before? He squinted. It seemed an old man was sitting there now. ‘A farmer?’ He looked again. Now the man noticed him as well and nodded a greeting. Ser Barristan didn’t move. ‘Was that man someone who recognised a famous knight and greeted ‘Barristan the Bold’, or was he the elusive messenger?’

‘Well, I’ve been here long enough. See how he reacts when I pretend to leave.’ Barristan slowly stood, left some coins on the table and headed for the door, all the while watching the man from the corner of his eye.

The man called his bluff and removed the hood that had obscured his face before. 

Ser Barristan faltered.  
He tried to hide his disbelief and changed direction. Without invitation he sat down on the opposite side of the table and faced his erstwhile Lord Commander.

Ser Gerold settled the hood back over his head obscuring his face once more. “No names”, he whispered. “I have a room upstairs and will retire now. If you like to hear what I have been up to all these years, you do as I say. Leave and try to reach the back entrance of this establishment without being seen. I will await you in the corridor and we can talk in private in my room.” 

Barristan nodded and left without a word. ‘Twelve fucking years, they had let him grieve for twelve fucking years!’

 

***

 

“You claim that there is a son of Rhaegar still living? You claim you are Kingsguard to the one True King and I to a usurper? You come here after twelve fucking years and you tell me a fairy tale?” Barristan whispered furiously. His eyes stared full with disbelief at Ser Gerold Hightower, former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or perhaps not ‘former’.

“Lower your voice! Your whisper is almost louder than your speaking voice. And do not use names.’

Ser Barristan felt chastised. It was almost like the good old days when he was still under Ser Gerold’s command getting scolded for daydreaming during a briefing.

“If you know a safer place to meet, let’s hear it. Otherwise keep quiet and use code names.” 

Barristan nodded. Ser Gerold could be as abrupt as he wanted. Barristan still wanted to hear what he had to say. He decided to wait him out. Ser Gerold hadn’t answered his earlier questions yet.

Ser Gerold relented. “I won’t tell you anything substantial about the Prince. Just know he is the trueborn son of our Prince, a Targaryen and will be the best ruler Westeros has ever seen. What I want to know is where your loyalties lie?”

Barristan shifted in his chair and looked uneasy. “I’m bound by my vow to the stag. This is a wretched situation. You know I would give my life for that family you protect. But how can I do it without dishonouring myself?” Barristan was proud he had avoided speaking names.

Ser Gerold snapped back but kept his voice quiet, “I do not consider myself dishonoured. We did what we had to do to keep our King safe.”

“You have not dishonoured yourself since you did not swear to the stag.” Barristan damned his hastily taken vow for the millionth time.

“Did you call him by his name or did you swear to the rightful King when you pledged yourself?” Ser Gerold retorted.

“Word games, everyone knows what was implied.” Barristan felt weary now.

Ser Gerold mulled it over. “If you really want to serve my family again, you could go to the stag and tell him you are an old and tired man who wishes to live out his old days peacefully somewhere else, technically not a lie old friend.” He offered.  
“And then you disappear.”

Barristan frowned and stayed silent.

“But before we take such drastic steps, do you think the Spider could be trusted to spy for us? If not, you would be more useful here in Kingslanding serving my family here as an informant.” Barristan saw Ser Gerold eyes studying him, a hopeful look in them.

Barristan sighed. “I think there is a chance, but with Varys you never know for sure.  
I could set up a meeting? We’ve had some conversations and I know he is sympathetic to my plight. He doesn’t like how the Kingdoms are ruled. If he was presented with a good alternative … “ Barristan stopped, unsure. He looked at Ser Gerold.  
“But why would you want to take such a risk? I am glad you talked to me, although your twelve years late for the Gods’ sake. I know and I hope you know that I can be trusted, but Varys? It is a risk.”

“What if I told you that it wasn’t?” was the enigmatic reply of is former Lord Commander.  
“Let’s sleep on it and meet again shall we say in two days time. This time you can name the place. Just send word here. And do not sign the message.” 

Barristan knew he was dismissed. He would not learn anything more today. 

 

***

 

**Two days later in a small storage room of a blacksmith on the street of steel in Kingslanding.**

“Original meeting place”, Ser Gerold greeted Ser Barristan.

“It was not my suggestion.” Ser Barristan muttered and Ser Gerold saw a man dressed in a large robe bend himself to enter the small door.

Loud hammering noises, normal for the workshop of a blacksmith could be heard, the sound lessening only by a bit when the Master of Whisperers closed the door. He lifted his hood and revealed his bald head. 

“Glad to see you are still alive and well, Ser Gerold. Ser Barristan told me the best news I have had heard in years.” Varys’ voice was as smooth as ever.

“I hope I can return the sentiment.” Ser Gerold looked pointedly around the little room.

“I thought this an excellent meeting place. Nobody will suspect. Tobho Mott is part of my loyal network and the noise will make it impossible to hear anything if you are not inside this room. I challenge you to find a spy in here.” 

The room was tiny. There was no place to hide anything larger than a cat. Ser Barristan saw Varys smirk.

“Now what can I do for you? Ser Barristan wouldn’t say much. Only, and I quote ‘I had to come for the good of the realm’ end quote. Now how do you know that such a thing is enough of a motivation for me?” The Spider looked expectantly at Ser Gerold.

“Would you believe me if I told you a greenseer told me?” came the cryptic reply of Ser Gerold.

“Actually, that’s almost the only thing I would believe. I do not think I have ever told anyone.”  
Ser Barristan could see that Varys was intrigued.

“What if I told you that I had a rightful heir to the throne, a worthy one, one of excellent character, and an elaborate plan to put him on the throne with minimal bloodshed when the time is right?”  
Barristan noticed the confidence in Ser Gerold’s eyes.

“I would like to hear more, but can not help but wonder why you need me then. If you have that so-called perfect King and perfect plan, why would you need my humble services?” Varys was intrigued.  
Barristan wanted to hear the answer to that as well.

“Perhaps you have a role in this perfect plan of ours and we want to trust you?” Ser Gerold was quick to retort.

“Does this plan of yours involve the Targaryens across the narrow sea?” Varys shot back?

“Not necessarily, but even if, then only one of them.” Ser Gerold really seemed to enjoy baiting him.

“Good answer, are you talking about a queen instead of a king?” 

“No.” Ser Gerold kept his answer brief.

“Can you give me an inkling of what my role would be?” Varys was stalling.  
Barristan saw Varys was close to figuring it out, his eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Sabotage Littlefinger, ferret out weaknesses of the Lannisters, we’re working on a way to remove Renly from the small council without hurting him. We would need you for that as well. Also once everything starts, we will require you to make sure the royal children disappear somewhere safe so if something went awry and there is a moment of chaos, we can still go ahead and be sure they will be safe. We really do not want history to repeat itself. More details will follow when the time is right.”  
Barristan saw Ser Gerold hesitating as if to say more but kept silent.

“A real humanitarian, your King?” Varys asked.

“Something like that”, Ser Gerold confirmed.

“When will the time be right?” 

“Our king is still too young”, Ser Gerold was playing with him.

“Is he of Targaryen blood?” Varys asked.

“Yes”, Ser Gerold didn’t hesitate.

“Trueborn?”

“Yes.” Ser Gerold was giving away too many clues, Ser Barristan thought. He should stop baiting Varys and tell it like a normal person. Varys was almost there anyway.

Varys looked at Ser Gerold totally relaxed now.  
“You know I have figured it out, don’t you? You’re alive, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell too I suppose. It’s not Daenerys. Viserys is dead and sired no children. The North is involved. It can only be a son of Rhaegar but not by Elia. Benjen Stark is involved…”  
“It’s a Dragonwolf! Ned brought Lyanna’s body home. She was young and healthy, so she died in childbirth?” Varys halted. “The trueborn thing however? Rhaegar was still married to Elia, was he not?” 

Barristan saw him looking at Ser Gerold excitement clear on his at other times stoic face.

“Only the grand Septon could … Varys’ voice trailed off.

“The marriage with Elia was annulled. They were married. We bore witness. He is trueborn.” Ser Gerold was adamant. 

Ser Barristan had been a silent witness to the word duel but now he couldn’t help but interject, he was hurt. “Why wasn’t I informed of the marriage? I fought with him on the Trident, he never said a word! And why did you keep this from me for twelve fucking years?”

This was the first time since entering the room that Ser Gerold turned away from Varys and focussed his attention on Ser Barristan. 

“I don’t know why Rhaegar didn’t tell you.” The knight seemed to look for the right words.  
“Lyanna was pregnant. I know he had planned to parley with the Starks before the battle began. Clear up the misunderstandings. Prevent the battle. But either Stark wasn’t there or something else went wrong. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. He had ordered us to stay in Dorne. If their unborn child was a son and Rhaegar fell during battle, the three of us had sworn to him we would protect the new King. That was our orders. That was the reason we weren’t on the Trident that fateful day. But we have been true to our word and have been protecting our King ever since.”

Varys looked at Ser Barristan. “Nobody knew. If ever there was a secret that needed keeping, this was it. They did a splendid job. King Robert would have let them smash his little head to the Wall. I see why they didn’t tell you.” 

Varys turned his attention to Ser Gerold again. “Did the greenseer help you from the beginning? Do you realise how many head aches you have cost me over the years?”

Ser Gerold only answered. “He did, he even did it without my knowledge for many years.”

“And”, Varys enquired, “what would it take to persuade you to tell me what happened to Tywin Lannister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Edric Dayne, Gendry Waters and Sam Tarley make an appearance and Jon meets new people during a trip to and from Essos.  
> It will be a huge chapter with two interludes at the end. That way the number of interludes matches the number of chapters. I like it better that way.


	9. Rite of passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes new friends and takes them along on a sea voyage  
> Jon gets mail.  
> Oberyn helps the conspiracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember the interludes can be past, present or future glimpses of the story.  
> I have added a short bonus interlude. That way the number of interludes will be equal to the number of chapters. 
> 
> Fair warning: I have nothing against same sex relationships. However, in GRRM’s world they are still outlawed and I have opted to stay true to canon in regard to this topic.

**Driftmark.**

“You have to let me go! Jon argued heatedly. Ghost who lay quietly at Jon’s feet perked up his ears and looked at Jon, his red eyes silently asking if he should lend his support. Jon just petted him reassuringly and his wolf settled back down.

“How can I become a man? Do you really want to put an inexperienced green boy in charge of the Seven Kingdoms? I have never been engaged in a real battle, only played at being a knight.” He was tired of having to defend himself again. Hadn’t this all been agreed upon moons ago?  
“How will I know the dragons will follow me when I venture further than a few miles from this island? How will I know I can communicate with them when I am on a boat and they are inland?  
And more importantly, how will I know that they will listen to my orders and not overreact? I need to be sure they will stand down at my command even if it appears I am being threatened.”

His Uncle Benjen, his three Kingsguards, Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane were present for this discussion. Uncle Ned had sent his brother to air his grievances. His Targaryen uncle had just urged him to take care in his last letter and Howland Reed had avoided the topic. He had however given them a most welcome piece of news on another matter.

“Jon, your Uncle Ned urges you to annul this trip. His most fervent reasons being that you’re barely sixteen and that you are too valuable. Without you there is no cause.”

“Sixteen is old enough, Uncle. How old was Ser Arthur when he joined the Kingsguard? How old were you when you faced your first enemy? How old do most men get married? I can go on, Uncle. I’ll never get a chance to become mature enough if you keep me in a gilded cage and protect me like I am still an ignorant child. I have to learn to do things by myself, think for myself. I need to know how to react to unexpected situations, even if it means making a few mistakes along the way. Do you really think the Lords are going to respect a green boy?”

Jon wasn’t going to back down on this. They were set to leave in a sennight for the first leg of their trip.  
He looked at his audience almost pleading now.  
“I need to step up my training, you can only learn so much from make believe scenarios, I need real life situations. I will lack confidence going to war for the Seven Kingdoms if it is my very first conflict. Surely you must understand that? You all have lived through several battles. You must still remember how you felt your first time? It is your duty to prepare me as best at you can and as far as I can see, you are not finishing the job well.”

“Besides, it will be more difficult for me, I will need to concentrate on battle and keep the dragons in check simultaneously.” He felt bad for guilt tripping them like that but he had been making plans for several moons and now, days before they were about to cast off they were hesitating to let him go.

“Not if you rode one of them during the battle.” Uncle Benjen tried to dismantle his last argument.

“They are not large enough yet.” Jon retorted.

“I will be the best protected Prince in the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon resumed his plea. “I’ve got three famous knights and Sandor Clegane. Gendry, Edric and I can defend ourselves. Davos will handpick the ship’s crew amongst the seamen we have been training for battle. Most of the sailors can defend themselves adequately and some even showed real talent with a sword or spear. Just the Maester, the cook, and a few stewards will be untrained. And do not forget, if Gods forbid we should encounter a superior force, I will have my dragons at the ready to fly in.”

Jon sensed he was making ground. Ser Gerold especially didn’t look grim just thoughtful.  
“I cannot see anything happening on the first stage of our journey since we will sail alongside the trade convoy to and from Essos. We will take the shipping lane every trade ship takes. The second part of our journey you are free to arrange any protective measure you see fit. Besides we will be sailing North with three ships so we can convey the latest shipment of glass to the Northern Lords, three large ships that will be full of armed men. I grant you that on a small part of the journey there could be the potential of an Ironborn attack but we will scout their movements very carefully and take no risks. You can check the detailed itinerary and we all will stay in contact as much as possible.” He looked at his Uncle Benjen when finishing his last sentence.

Ser Gerold intervened. “The trip to Essos can go ahead as planned. On the return trip we can evaluate the feasibility of your proposed journey to the Stony Shore. Ser Oswell will not accompany us to Essos so he will have time to arrange abundant protection.”

“I’ll have Ghost with me for the journey across the Crownlands and Riverlands. He can scout and warn us long before trouble reaches us. When we board the ships at Seagard, we plan to stay close to the coastlines anyway. The dragons can follow and can provide extra protection. I will be able to test how long they can stay in the air and how high and how far they can fly. If they get tired, land won’t be far off for them to find a secluded spot to rest up. All this exercise will probably benefit them as well. Afterwards they will be stronger because of it.” Jon argued his case most fervently.

“I still think we are taking unnecessary risks. What if someone gets wind of who you are? We have been working so hard, and we’re so close now. If the situation continues to evolve, we could be making our play in less than twelve moons.”  
His Uncle Benjen looked apologetically at Jon. He usually took his side in internal conflicts but this time he was here in the capacity of the worried parent and stand in for the Warden of the North. He wouldn’t be able to join Jon on this voyage and feared for his safety.

“All the more reason for a trial run now. It will be my last chance before I have to come out into the open and fight for my claim. It is also my last chance for some normalcy. Sailing is a rite of passage for the males of House Velaryon. No one will find it strange that Jon Celtigar will make a sea journey before his seventeenth nameday.”

“What about the Ironborn?” Uncle Benjen objected.

Jon focused on his uncle to the exclusion of all else and answered him heatedly. “Can’t wait to meet them personally. I’ve heard nothing but reports of your people having to fend them off, time and again. I have begged you repeatedly to let me help the North by hindering their raids with nightly attacks. The dragons could be in and out in a flash, leaving their ships burning. The Ironborn will hardly have a chance to recognise what is attacking them and would probably not believe their eyes. Those who would dare to voice their suspicion would be laughed at. Besides, I would love the first victim of my sword to be a Kraken!”

“Lord Varys has warned you that he has heard some vague rumours about possible dragons but quelled them, luckily before Littlefinger got wind of them. You have Lord Reed to thank for this as well. But do not get too brazen or your luck will run out.” Benjen Stark cautioned

Jon made an effort to control his voice and countered.  
“Even if a rumour surfaced, nobody will know they are ours. And the princess Daenerys is living in a veritable fortress for now. Hells, if necessary we could even start the rumour that the Golden Company might have dragons. They wouldn’t mind. It would only enhance their reputation for the time being.”  
“Uncle, let’s stop arguing about this. Let’s try to spend the time that you are here to go over our strategies once more. That will be more productive if your goal is to keep me safe.” His eyes implored his favourite uncle to relent.

Jon turned to the others and changed the topic for now.  
“We still have a lot to discuss. If Lord Reed is right, Jon Arryn will succumb to his illness and the King will ride north to ask Uncle Ned to become be his Hand. We still need to synchronise our actions. Timing will be crucial to avoid casualties. Let’s go over it once more and discuss everyone’s part.”

“We are scheming on several fronts. Let us discus the steps to free up Dragonstone first. A you know, we plan to discredit the royal children, remove Prince Renly from the line of succession, see to it that Stannis Baratheon gets Storm’s end, get Lord Velaryon to be the one to appoint a castellan on Dragonstone and then the Princess Daenerys gets to come home.”

“Crucial to this scheme is that we have sufficient influence in King's Landing. I know it will be a difficult task for Uncle Ned, but when the King asks him to be his Hand, he will have no good reason not to accept. He can share his reluctance with the King, let him stew for a few days and then agree to his offer only if the King will allow him to wait a bit longer to formalise the proposed betrothal of Sansa and Joffrey. He can say he’ll only say yes to one request for now and consider the other when Sansa and Joffrey are both older.”

“He will not like the idea of being the Hand of a King that he’ll have to overthrow.” His uncle muttered. “I know it must be done, but I didn’t realise my brother would be in such a prominent position when it all starts. Ned will struggle with it, question his honour. Brood even more than you.” Uncle Benjen sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Uncle. If rumours start about the royal children, Uncle Ned’s role will be vital to keep the King calm and slowly convince him that these are no rumours. He will be the one to keep King Robert’s wrath in check in order to prevent him from harming innocent children once again.”

“Hopefully we will have solid proof by then. Eddard Stark must influence King Robert to return Storm’s End to Stannis Baratheon. If our timing is right the others will have succeeded in discrediting Prince Renly.”  
“My uncle needs to persuade King Robert to issue an official decree in which Stannis Baratheon is officially proclaimed as first in line for the throne until such a time that the King has sired trueborn children and he has to reinstate him as Lord of Storm’s End immediately.” Jon reiterated the plan they had come up with.

Lord Reed really had come through for the conspiracy. He had told them that he was certain that the royal children were not King Robert’s children. The Lannisters were scheming to put a pure blood Lannister bastard on the throne. Lord Reed did not know which Lannister had sired the children exactly. However, he was certain they were not the rightful heirs to the throne.

“Lord Varys will help him. He will spread rumours, and present the idea to the small council. But Uncle Ned will have to lend it weight to convince King Robert.” Jon knew he would be asking a lot of Lord Stark but the situation was an unexpected windfall.

“When Lord Velaryon is officially named as castellan of Dragonstone we’ll leave the Driftmark and install ourselves on Dragonstone. Not only will it be easier to live with the dragons there, it will be easier to defend. We’ll move a large part of our fleet there as well.”

“And just as Aegon the Conqueror, Dragonstone will be the place where everything is put into motion. Rather poetic isn’t it?” His Uncle Benjen could always be counted on to lighten the mood.

 

“Uncle Benjen” Jon urged him once more, “I count on you to ease Uncle Ned’s mind. If everything goes as planned, his actions will save the lives of the royal family, the children included. This fact alone should soothe his mind. Besides King Robert is a child killer and would murder me without thinking twice. There will be no real dishonour involved on Uncle Ned’s part.  
You will need to leave soon, Uncle Benjen. Lord Reed couldn’t see precisely when it would happen, but we must be prepared. Varys has affirmed that Lord Arryn’s health is declining. I want you to reach Lord Arryn before he dies. It is important that you get back to Winterfell before the King does.”

“I know the royal family’s behaviour patterns. If Arryn dies the King won’t come north straight away. I give him at least two moons before he is finally ready to set out with his entire entourage. If the Queen insists on travelling in the large royal wheelhouse, they will practically be crawling to Winterfell, perhaps even schedule other visits along the way. It will take several additional moons before he arrives at Winterfell. There is still plenty of time.” Ser Gerold calmly informed everyone.”

“That’s good to hear, Ser Gerold”, Jon replied. Let’s discuss the other matters.

“Well”, Ser Gerold spoke up “We still need to put in place the messenger system Jon has proposed.

Jon felt Ghost nudge his mind. He looked at him and realised that Ghost was restless and wanted to go outside for a run. He silently consented and Ghost was off in a flash.

“I’m sorry, where were we?” Jon asked trying to refocus on the meeting after Ghost had disappeared from sight.

“Your ideas of enhancing our messenger system.” Ser Gerold helped his Prince back on topic.

Jon explained. “We need to increase the frequency of our communications with every party involved. I want to establish a chain of messengers. We are spread throughout the realm and have to be able to react quickly if the political situation changes in some part of the realm. We will double the ravens and also should appoint several extra messengers to travel regularly between all our major bases of operations. No effort should be spared, this is too important. Once things start happening, our communication system should be flawless. If the situation is dire, I can even guide a raven personally. So if ever a raven should land on your shoulder, don’t hurt it. You can safely use it to convey a message back to me, perhaps even if I am at sea at the time. We can try it sometime. Don’t take to long to send it on its way though. It requires some concentration on my end to pull that off.

“Now, about that last report from the Reach, my uncle has received a scroll from lady Olenna, …”

The meeting went on for some time but Jon had gained the upper hand. They would depart in a sennight.

 

***

 

Dinner that night was a boisterous affair. Jon was in a good mood.  
“Is everyone acquainted already?” Jon had just joined the table where Edric, Gendry and Sam seemed to be bonding most likely due to their almost equal amount of namedays.

“Well”, Sam said hesitantly, “We have introduced ourselves, I know everyone’s names but that’s about all.”

“Then let me remedy that at once, my friend.” Jon really was carefree this evening.  
“Everyone, meet Sam. He will probably have told you that he is the son of Randyll Tarly, a prominent Lord of the Reach. But that’s just boring stuff. The interesting tale is how I met Sam.”

Gendry and Edric looked at Jon expectantly. “Well continue”, Gendry ordered impatiently.

Jon complied with a smile.  
“Well for reasons entirely his own, Sam was travelling to the Wall to join the Night’s Watch. His ship was attacked and robbed by pirates not far from our coast. Sam was one of the few who escaped with their lives. Together with the other survivors, he was able to lower a small rowing boat into the water and reach the Driftmark. I happened to be near the port when they moored and convinced Sam to stay with us for the time being.”

Jon omitted the parts of the story Sam had told him in confidence. His father had disinherited him because he was overweight and craven compared to his athletic younger brother. His father was a famous military man and wanted his heir to follow in his footsteps. Sam would not do at all. He gave the boy a choice. Join the Night’s Watch were you relinquish all claims to land and titles or get killed during a hunting accident his father would orchestrate. Sam had been disheartened and had taken his only way out.

Sam had finished his tale by admitting to Jon that he was indeed craven. He had told him what had really happened during the attack on their ship. Most of the crew had been taken prisoner or were killed. Sam had hidden himself while the battle raged. After the Ironborn had left, the few survivors had escaped the fast sinking ship and had rowed ashore.

Jon had been near the coastline with his dragons when the small boat arrived. He had immediately taken Sam under his wing and had reassured him that he had taken the best course of action. If there was no way to win the battle, you had to find a way to survive. It had been the smart thing to do, Jon had reassured him. Sam and Jon had become fast friends.

 

Jon completed his tale. “Sam will first travel with us to Pentos. Then we’ll cross the Riverlands and board a ship at Seagard to sail north. But if I have it my way, Sam will not leave us for the Wall.”

“I have to Jon.” Sam stated quietly

“We’ll see about that Sam. Don’t worry. You still have several moons before you need to make your final decision. We’re not in the North yet. If by then you are still determined to dedicate your life to the Watch, we will not stand in your way. Doesn’t mean I will not stop trying to change your mind, consider this your official warning.” Jon smiled at Sam but then included all his friends in his next words.  
“At the very least, we can make it an interesting journey. Let’s drink to that. To an adventurous journey!”

Everyone lifted their pints. “Hear hear!”

The adults in the room looked over to the table where the youngsters were boisterously entertaining themselves. “Let them enjoy this time. Nobody knows what the future will bring.” Benjen Stark stated. The others agreed.

 

“Well Jon”, Sam felt at ease in Jon’s company, “Now you’ve told my story. That was the one I happened to know already by the way. I was rather expecting you to give me some interesting details about our new friends here.”

“My apologies My Lord”, Jon joked. “Let’s continue the introductions shall we.” He bowed to Sam.  
“To your left My Lord, you see Edric of House Dayne, heir to Starfall in Dorne and very popular with the ladies because of his pale blond hair and dark blue eyes. He is also the nephew of one of my most esteemed protectors and advisers, Ser Arthur.”

Edric played along and stood up making a formal bow to Sam. “Pleased to meet you Lord Tarly.” Then he sat down again.

“And to your right my dear Lord”, Jon was clearly enjoying himself. “Please meet Gendry Waters, a tall and very strong young man, with blue eyes and thick black hair. He apprenticed with Tobho Mott, a famous blacksmith in King's Landing but for some mischievous reason of his own decided to leave the stinking city and make a living in a more peaceful place. Well we certainly can use a good blacksmith so we’ve persuaded him to stay with us at our modest island. We’ve started to give him some formal fighting training, teaching him to use a sword but he stubbornly prefers a hammer and if you let him, he can teach you some really cool moves with it.”

This was also the leaner version of what had really happened.  
Gendry had arrived with Davos Seaworth when he returned from his last visit to King's Landing.  
Davos had met up with Varys for an update. The meeting was held once more in the little backroom of Tobho Mott’s blacksmith shop. Varys had told them how the Lannisters had suddenly started an all out search for King Robert’s bastards and were slaughtering them all. He had even heard of a baby being torn from a woman’s breast and being stabbed to death before the mother’s eyes.

Varys had begged Davos Seaworth to take the young apprentice with him. The boy had not been discovered yet. He probably was the eldest bastard of King Robert who was still alive. His mother had died a few years ago. Tobho Mott who had sometimes seen the young boy wandering past his shop, had realised the potential his young body was already revealing, namely the possibility of growing very large and strong. He had taken the boy in and had started to teach him his trade. The blacksmith had been disappointed to see the boy leave with Seaworth. Gendry had been a most promising apprentice.

As soon as Jon had finished his tale, Gendry smirked and lifted his cup, a deliberate suggestion to the others. The four boys raised their glasses and drank to each other’s health once more.

Jon felt content. If only Robb were here, things would have been perfect.  
He promised himself to start another long letter to his cousin in the North.

 

***

 

“I really enjoy being out on the open water.” Jon looked out over the railing of the ship. They had finally started their journey. “Why have we not done this before?”

“Do I really have to answer this question?” Davos looked pointedly in the direction where Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold were talking quietly.

“Pentos is not really that far from the Driftmark, is it?” Jon enquired. “How long will it take to sail there?”

“A sennight if the winds are fair. A bit more if they are not.” Davos Seaworth replied simply.

The conversation halted. Jon focused his attention on Ser Arthur. The knight had taken out Dawn, the famous sword of House Dayne and was cleaning it reverently. It was not often that Ser Arthur brought Dawn out in the open. But the men on the ship were all chosen for their loyalty and discretion. Besides it would not be long now before they would all out themselves.

Jon’s mind drifted to his own beautiful sword, Blackfyre. This was the first time he had brought it along. Ser Arthur had approved stating he should get used to handling the sword. It would not do to hide it away only to find out that when it really mattered, Jon wouldn’t be familiar enough with it to wield it properly.

They had agreed to dedicate part of their training sessions to sparring with their ancestral swords. Today had been the first time. Jon made a seamless transition from his dulled metal training sword to Blackfyre. Although Blackfyre was significantly lighter, wielding the sword just felt natural to Jon.  
The dulled metal training sword he had been using since graduating from the wooden one, years ago, had been made to resemble his Valyrian sword in both size and shape. If anything, wielding Blackfyre seemed easier.  
For once Ser Arthur did not criticize much during that part of their session. Both men paid close attention and were careful not to wound each other. Jon figured they both realised how easily these swords could cut through their shields and armour.

When they finished Ser Arthur patted Jon’s shoulder. “You’ve improved significantly my Prince, but do not get overconfident, you are not there yet.”

That was rare praise coming from Ser Arthur. Jon wondered now whether the fact that Ser Arthur had stayed quiet during their session had been more significant than he had thought at first. He already looked forward to the next time they could fight with their true swords.

He walked past the small crowd that had assembled on deck to watch Jon face the famous knight. Jon just acknowledged Davos with an absent nod, went back this cabin to clean his precious sword and put it away safely.  
Seated on his bunk bed he took out the bundle of letters from his aunt once more and tried to imagine how their first meeting would go.

 

***

A few nights later the four boys were playing cards in Jon’s cabin. It was a tight fit but that didn’t stop them from having fun. If anything it was easier to bump into each other and playfully sabotage the game by peeking at the other’s cards. The outcome of the game wasn’t important. It was just an excuse to spend time together.

For a while now they had been talking about past experiences, the cards lying forgotten on the small crate between them. Gendry boasted about all his interactions with girls and Edric tried to match him. Sam and Jon didn’t participate but didn’t miss a word. Then Jon changed the subject to fighting techniques and a bit later he somehow found himself talking about the time Prince Oberyn, the famous Red Viper had visited the Driftmark when Jon had celebrated only twelve namedays. He boasted how he had coaxed a reluctant Prince into teaching him how to wield a spear.

Gendry grew quiet and asked to be excused. He was tired and would like go to bed. Edric decided to call it a night as well and followed him out. Sam who suspected the two of them would revisit their previous topic about girls and sex stayed with Jon a bit longer.

Jon immediately capitalised on this opportunity. “Sam I need you to promise me something.”

Sam saw the serious look on Jon’s face and hardened himself, he would be ready to refuse his friend. “If this is about me joining the Night’s Watch again?” He already regretted not having followed his friends to their joint cabin.

“It is. Sam I need you to promise me you will not decide anything before you have had the opportunity to talk with my Uncle Benjen about this. He can tell you objectively what life at the Wall is like. If you do not believe my descriptions, believe him. I vow I will not influence him beforehand. He will be a reliable source of knowledge. Use it. Question him thoroughly. Think on it some more and only then make a well informed decision.”

Sam couldn’t deny Jon this earnest request. “I promise.” He answered, got up and retired as well.

 

Back in the cabin the three boys shared, Gendry had a grimace on his face when he addressed Edric. “This gets better and better. Lords, Princes and Jon just mentions them as if it is the most normal thing in the world. He even sparred with this Prince Oberyn of Dorne!  
Before I met you all, I don’t think I had ever met a single noble person, let alone a Prince. Now I live amongst noble knights and lords. Did you know I have even heard Jon being called ‘my Prince’ at more than one opportunity? Is there something everyone knows but me?”

Edric looked pensive. “You know I have been thinking the exact same thing. First I thought Jon was just an orphan of an important Lord who needed a lot of protection for some reason or other. Perhaps his father had a lot of enemies, or was very rich. But lately I have observed other things.”

Sam entered the cabin before Edric could say more. Sam had heard the last few words and noticed them halt and stare at each other as two small boys who had been caught doing something naughty. “What are you two whispering about? Are you still speculating about Jon and girls?”

“It is about Jon. However it has nothing to with his apparent lack of courage when it concerns dealing with the other sex, are sex as a deed.” He saw Sam blush at his words.

“Hey do you know something about that? Is that why Jon was so quiet? Does he have a girlfriend somewhere?” Gendry tried to distract Sam.

“No”, Sam said. “Besides, I told you before to let Jon be.”  
“Let’s get back on topic. If it wasn’t about girls this time, then what was it that you were talking about in those hushed tones? From where I stood it looked like you were up to no good.”

“Why do you always think the worst of us? Just because we like to pull a prank once in a while …” Edric complained.

“Never mind that, you are stalling. Now I am really curious to know why you seemed to be conspiring.” Sam was getting worried. Jon was his friend and he would do what he could to keep these rascals line.

“Sam”, Gendry started. “Have you ever heard Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell or Ser Arthur refer to Jon as ‘my Prince’? I think I even overheard Davos say it once?”

Sam, surprised by the serious turn the conversation had taken pondered this for a moment.  
“What if they do? Perhaps it is just an endearment, like Davos calls me ‘son’ sometimes?”

“I do not believe you can dismiss it so readily. I for one think there is more to it.” Edric whispered.

“Have you seen that sword he used this morning? Ser Arthur was sparring with Dawn and I could have sworn that the one Jon used was a made of real Valyrian steel as well. I had not seen anyone use that particular sword before. You know I have worked in Tobho Mott’s workshop and seen several beautiful swords but the sword Jon held was just exquisite. It had this large red ruby and the hilt was a work of art.”

“Guys”, Sam tried to stop them.

“And haven’t you ever wondered about his direwolf? It is said they normally only live north of the Wall and are extremely wild and dangerous. According to legend, only House Stark can control them. Jon, as we can all testify, has absolute command of Ghost.” Edric said bolstered by Gendry’s cooperation.

“Perhaps he has Stark blood? It certainly would explain him referring to Benjen Stark as ‘Uncle Benjen’.” Sam said a bit uneasy. “You know, I am not comfortable talking about Jon like this behind his back. Say that you are right and there is more to him than we know, have you ever thought there could be a very good reason as to why we were not told?”

“I do not understand”, Gendry interjected.

“Perhaps we’re not supposed to understand. If Jon wants us to know, he will tell us. That is, if there is anything to tell and if he even knows himself what there is to know, you know? I am not making sense, am I?” Sam concluded hesitantly.

“No.” Gendry had a hard time making sense of any of it.

“I get the gist of it.” Edric replied. “You want us to leave Jon in peace. According to you we should wait until he is ready to tell us what is going on, if we are right in the first place and there really is something going on. You also mentioned Jon might not know anything himself either.”

“Why didn’t you explain it like that to begin with?” Gendry complained.

“I have a better idea”, Edric looked at Sam. “Would it be alright to ask Davos Seaworth?”

“Ask him what?” Gendry looked at Edric as if he had two heads.

“Why they sometimes call Jon ‘My Prince’, Gendry.” Edric was getting frustrated.

“I don’t know”, Sam answered. “That could also be considered as going behind Jon’s back.

“We do not mean him any harm”, Edric insisted. “We are just curious.”

“Aren’t you related to Ser Arthur? Can’t you ask him?” Gendry interjected looking at Edric.

“He is more loyal to Jon as to me, which is exactly my point anyway. Why would my uncle be so loyal to Jon, the son of an average Lord? Ser Arthur is a former Kingsguard, the most famous knight in the entire realm used to guarding Kings and their royal offspring. Why would he guard Jon so faithfully?” Edric mused.

Sam blanched. “Guys, do me a favour? Forget this conversation for now. Don’t talk about this to anyone. Do not ask anyone any questions, not Davos, not Ser Arthur. I’ll handle it.”

“Sam?” Edric was flabbergasted.

“Promise me Edric, promise me Gendry. Trust me to handle this.” Sam urged.

Both nodded their agreement. Gendry regretted having started this strange discussion anyway.

Sam left the cabin and went to check if Jon was still awake.

 

***

The next evening, the four of them were once more assembled in Jon’s cabin. This time however there were no cards to be seen. Gendry’s just sat there, his mouth was moving but no sound exited.

Edric stared at Jon with big unbelieving eyes. Then he turned his head and fixed his eyes on Sam.  
“You told on us”, he accused.

“And don’t you like the result?” Sam managed to look a bit superior for once.

After his panic last night Sam had put two and two together for the most part. He had made small observations here and there but had respected Jon’s privacy. He had even noticed dragons the first time he had seen Jon at the beach but had not been sure they belonged together. He had hesitated to interrogate a new acquaintance. Yesterday evening however he had felt it was his duty to warn his new friend that whatever he was hiding was as good as discovered.

Before Edric could react to Sam’s taunt, Gendry had found his voice again. “For real, you’re a Prince, or a King even? I already felt out of place in the company of three sons of real Lords, this is even worse. Do I have to call you your Grace?”

Sam and Edric were as eager as Gendry to see how Jon would react to these questions.

Jon smiled, he remembered Sandor Clegane making almost the exact same remark.  
“Of course not. Please keep calling me Jon and keep acting normal around me. I am no ruler yet so am not entitled to be called your Grace.”

“So that’s why they call you ‘My Prince’. I thought they were just teasing you with that.” Gendry was more at ease again.

“Will you tell us more?” Edric tentatively probed.

Jon looked earnestly at them. “I will. Just ask me. I’ll answer if I’m able.”

“You have a Valyrian sword?” Gendry asked.

“I do. Would you like to see it?”

“I’d very much like to hold it if I may.” Gendry asked reverently. “Does it have a name?”

Jon had taken Blackfyre out of its scabbard and held it up moving it slowly so they could admire it from every angle. “Anyone recognise it?” he asked smiling at their amazement.

“Gendry was right. It is extraordinary. It is even finer than Dawn.” Edric was jealous when he saw Jon handing it to Gendry who carefully held it in one hand and checked the balance by swinging it in the limited space.

“Can it be Blackfyre?” Sam asked. “It hardly seems possible but it looks like it.”

“It is Blackfyre. Maester Aemon had it at the Wall. He gave it to me shortly after my twelfth nameday.”

Gendry reluctantly handed the sword back to Jon. To Edric’s disappointment the sword was soon back in its scabbard and tucked away once more between Jon’s belongings.

“No further questions?” Jon asked raising his brow at Sam.

“You have pets?” Sam tried to give him an out.

“I have several.” Jon smiled and seemed at ease. “What do you think you know?”

“Well you have Ghost, a direwolf, I guess he represents your Stark side.” Sam didn’t know if he was allowed to bring up the dragons.

“What’s a direwolf?” Gendry felt out of his depth in this company in more than one way.

Jon turned his attention to Gendry and started explaining.  
“A direwolf is the sigil of House Stark. You probably know that the Starks are the most prominent family of the North. My Uncle Eddard Stark is Warden of the North. My Uncle Benjen, you have met of course when you arrived at the Driftmark, is his brother. The large albino wolf you have seen in my company is a direwolf. They are fearsome beasts mostly living in the wild, north of the Wall. But I have raised Ghost ever since he was a puppy and he is totally loyal to me. He won’t harm you, unless you mean to harm me, that is.”

“I think you were not finished yet, Sam?” Jon gently nudged him.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice two other pets, representing your Targaryen family?” Sam hardly dared to say it out loud.

“Dragons, Jon. He thinks you have two dragons who obey you.” Edric was ready to believe anything by now.

He grinned seeing Gendry’s reaction. The boy sat there motionless, his mouth open, trying to decide if they were toying with him or not.

“Didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, did you?” Jon teased, but he sobered when he saw Gendry look at him with doubt in his eyes.

“We’re all friends here Gendry, you just as much as these other two imps. Relax, we’ll fill up our pints and I’ll tell you my story in more detail.”

The four of them talked deep into the night.

 

***

 

The next morning after breaking their fast, Jon asked Gendry to accompany him to his favourite bench at the bow of the ship. The young man immediately complied.

“How are you doing Gendry?” he opened the conversation.

“I’m fine … Jon.” Gendry hesitated on the appellation.

“No you’re not.” Jon sighed. “You know even though I became an orphan moments after I was born, I have been lucky. I have always been cared for and have received a good education. You have not been that lucky.”

He looked at Gendry with a serious and encouragingly expression, using it to give extra credence to his next words. “You were just unlucky Gendry. You are no less than us. You also have noble blood running through your veins. You just lack the confidence and knowledge how to address certain people in certain circumstances. If you agree, I can set up some lessons with the Maester to get you started. I am sure with just some basic principles you could do a lot better in no time. You are one of us.”

“I’m just a bastard raised in Fleabottom. I’m only good with my hands.” Gendry stammered.

“How would you know for sure if you never had the opportunity to test yourself? Who knows what you can accomplish in life? Being good with numbers is only one talent. If you do not excel in that, you can excel in lots of other things. I am told Tobho Mott was impressed with your quick understanding of several complicated melting techniques he showed you. Look at Sam. Do we look down on him because he is not really a fighter? No, we give him the opportunity to develop his other talents. Did you know that once Sam has read a book, he can almost literally recite it even if it has been moons since he last read it? He would make an excellent Maester, one I could trust blindly.”

“I can’t even read properly, only the simple words.” Gendry confessed.

“Nothing keeps you from learning now if that is your wish. I will not force anything on you, but think about it. If you stay with us, you can take advantage of all these opportunities I have had at my disposal my whole life. You’ll just start your education a bit later than all of us but in time nobody will be able to tell the difference.

“And the fact that you are technically a bastard has nothing to do with you. It reflects more on your father, on your parents. They should call the fathers bastards, not the innocent babes. And do you realise, that if you stick with me, the moment I am King, I can legitimize you and grant you a lordship? So I’ll repeat my earlier words. You are one of us. If I had it my way I would outlaw the use of the word bastard anyway.”  
Jon tapped his shoulder playfully. “Don’t insult your Prince by not believing him.” He teased when Gendry didn’t react.

Gendry looked at him, clearly a bit overcome. “It will take some getting used to but I really want to become something more than just a bastard. Always have. Let me get my head around this and I will let you know about possible lessons, okay?”

“That’s more than fair Gendry. Take all the time you need. I will be here for you if you have additional questions. Though about the legitimisation, I will only be able to do that if you swear yourself to my cause. Know however that if you do that, you will become part of the conspiracy to overthrow your birth father. I will understand if you will not want to do that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want that? Hells where do I sign. He tried to have me killed! That’s why I had to flee everything I knew. I really liked studying with Tobho Mott.” Jon clearly had struck a note.

“To be honest, Gendry, I do not think that King Robert was behind this murdering spree. I think it was masterminded by the Lannisters. Not that I want to defend the King, mind you. The son of a bitch murdered my half sister and half brother who was just a mere babe. He had their mother killed and is even now sending assassins to kill my aunt in Essos. If he knew I existed, I would become his target as well.”

“What are we still arguing about then?” Gendry asked. As I said I owe no loyalty to the Baratheons and will gladly swear myself to your service.”

“Well, for now, just swear to keep my secrets and help keep us all safe. Decide what you want to do about possible lessons and we’ll take it from there. You’re one of my friends Gendry. Take your time and let all of this sink in. I won’t have you make a hasty decision only to regret it afterwards. If you do decide to join our cause I want you to do so with a clear mind.”

Gendry just nodded unable to formulate a coherent reply.

Jon stood up “Come on let’s find Edric and Sam, I think this would be a good time for a sparring session.

 

***

**A few sennights later.**

Again it was Davos standing on the ship’s front deck next to Jo. Both were watching the shorelines, now those of Pentos, slowly growing smaller and disappear completely.

“Mission accomplished?” Davos asked him quietly.

“It went well.” Jon replied

“And your aunt?”

“She’s so nice. It is strange that she is my aunt. She’s just a girl my age. We got along well. I feel responsible for her. I promised to bring her to Westeros as soon as it is safe.” Jon felt a bit shy talking about Daenerys so he kept his answers brief.

“I’m happy for you it went well Jon.” Davos was determined not to pry any further. He knew Jon would open up to him in his own time.

“And Harry Strickland? How did that meeting go?” he was really curious about that.

“Didn’t Ser Gerold tell you all about it?” Jon stalled.

“No, I didn’t ask him. I prefer to hear it from you.” Davos answered sincerely.

“Well, perhaps we should make ourselves comfortable then. Jon sat down on a bench his eyes still gazing at the small stripe of land that would be invisible before long.

Davos followed his example and lowered himself in the empty spot close to Jon.

“You heard about how he came up to our table at the tavern during our second night in Pentos?” Jon asked not knowing where to begin his story.

“Not really. Why did he approach you?” Davos enquired.

“Well, we were seated around a large table, all of us that is Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, Sandor Clegane,  
Edric, Sam, Gendry and yours truly of course. I thought at the time something we said must have attracted Strickland’s attention. Ser Arthur told me later he had noticed the man studying us for some time before coming over to introduce himself.”

Jon hesitated. “Perhaps it was stupid of me but I didn’t think anyone would recognise the sword. You see, I was carrying Blackfyre. Well when Strickland approached and introduced himself, Ser Arthur immediately realised this man was the commander of the Golden Company. When Strickland asked where I got that sword I was carrying, Ser Arthur took him aside and forcibly ordered Strickland to swear upon his honour not to harm any of us. He only invited him to sit down at our table after he had done so sincerely enough to satisfy my Kingsguard and even then not before Strickland had agreed to surrender his own sword for the duration of our conversation.”

Jon’s eyes wandered briefly to where Pentos had still been visible before they started this conversation. The coastline could no longer be seen with the naked eye. Jon returned his gaze to Davos and resumed his account.  
“Edric, Sam and Gendry had retired to their room after a slight prodding of Ser Gerold. We tried to give Strickland a censured but moving version of my background. Of course we had sworn him to secrecy for the time being.”

“I believed him when he promised not to betray our secret until we were ready to reveal my true identity to the realm and fight for my claim. Ser Arthur tried to coax him to reveal where his loyalties would lie should money not be an issue, but he wouldn’t give anything away. Jon turned his head to Davos, and looked him firmly in the eye. He really wanted Davis to believe his next statement.  
“I know I struck a note when I told him about my two dragons at the end. I could read his empathy for our cause from his face although he didn’t utter a word.”

“What?” Davos couldn’t help but react. “How could you do that? He has an army of at least ten thousand men at his disposal. He could easily kill you and capture your dragons!”

“I didn’t tell him where they are, or where we lived, Davos.” Jon stayed calm. Somehow he had felt he could trust Strickland. “I told you it was a lean version of the story. For all he knows the dragons could be anywhere in Westeros.”

“I don’t like it all the same”, Davos replied.

“They would have to come by ship. You know we have shored up our defences. If an enemy ship draws near, my dragons can set it afire before it has the chance to throw anchor. Don’t worry. Even Ser Arthur is convinced that he won’t fight against us. At worst he will stay neutral. At best we have sown the seeds to persuade him to lend us his support. Ser Arthur hopes Blackfyre could well be the best inducement to convince him to our side.”

“You’re not giving up the sword!”

“No Davos, I misspoke. I meant the fact that I am the true owner of the sword, one with Targaryen blood. According to Ser Arthur, the fact that I am only half Targaryen is in my favour as well. I’m almost a Blackfyre myself. The dragons are just the icing on the cake. Perhaps you should talk about this with Ser Arthur?” Jon tried to appease him.

“I certainly will. But first tell me, how did you part company with Strickland?” Davos was calmer now.

“His exact word were and I quote ‘I wish you good fortune in the wars to come your Grace’ end of quote.  
His tone seemed to imply that he recognised my claim and would not accept an offer to take up arms against us, however much the gold they would promise him.”

“That’s all?” Davos was not reassured.

“Well, I sort of made him promise that if they approached him, he would contact us first before making a decision.” Jon had held on this titbit of information as long as possible and relished the brief look of shock that crossed Davos’ face.

“He’d better.” Davos grumbled and left Jon’s side. He would go and speak with Ser Arthur now.

 

***

 

Jon closed his eyes and tried to search for his dragons. His was once more standing at the bow of the ship. Davos had just informed him they would probably arrive at the Driftmark tomorrow and had left him shortly after. Knowing Davos, the man had probably guessed what Jon was trying to do and had given him privacy.

‘Not close enough yet. I will try again later.’ He saw Sandor approach. He smiled encouragingly. He always enjoyed his conversations with the man.

“Enjoying the sea air?” Jon looked at his weathered face.

“Getting used to it.” Came the muttered reply. You will be glad to see your wolf again, boy?”

“I will.” Jon imitated his brief conversation style.

“Boring trip. Didn’t have to do shit. Why the fuck did I come along?”

“Well, you refused to spar with me.” Jon argued.

“You have your fine knights lining up for that. I do not need no fucking cuddling!”

“Whose whinging now?” Jon grinned trying to show Clegane that he was just teasing.

“I’m not whinging.” The large man replied trying to keep a straight face.

Jon had anticipated this reply and had his answer ready.  
“Well to quote a certain friend of mine: your lips are moving and you complain about something, that’s whinging.” Jon finished quoting Clegane’s own words.

That did it, they looked at each other and both shook with laughter.

After they had both calmed down, Clegane patted his shoulder. “You’re alright kid.”  
Jon watched him leave, knowing he had improved his protector’s mood significantly.

 

He focussed his mind once more, trying to reach further and further towards their destination.  
Suddenly he felt it. It was a light nudge, but it was there. He tried to keep his elation in check and concentrated once more. He emptied his mind and responded to the nudge. Now he could feel the two of them. It felt like they had been dozing but he could feel their excitement building.

Jon looked at the sky. It was very cloudy today, perfect.  
‘I’m almost home’, he called out to them in his mind. ‘If you promise to be careful and fly above the clouds, you can come to me. I would love to see you again.’ He felt them get up, leave the cave and take to the sky.

Now he focussed his attention on the green dragon. ‘Rhaegal, when you are close enough, will you let me share your mind, please? I would love to see the sea and our ship from high up. You know I would love to be able to fly as you two can.’ Jon felt Rhaegal’s positive energy floating through him. He knew Rhaegal had just agreed.

It was not long before Jon could feel Rhaegal was close enough for him to warg. He had used the time it had taken the dragons to come into range to fetch Ser Gerold. Warging a dragon took a lot of energy and he had promised that if the circumstances allowed for it, he would always arrange for supervision. He had been obliged to admit that when in full warg mode, he wasn’t able to protect himself. There was a big difference between just giving mental orders to the dragons or fully warg with Rhaegal.

Ser Gerold stood over him, looking a bit anxious. Jon seated on the now familiar bench on deck gave him a reassuring smile and closed his eyes.  
It didn’t take him long before he was soaring above the clouds. Rhaegal welcomed him. The dragon was really glad to feel their bond again. Jon could sense how the both of them had missed him. They hadn’t seen each other for more than three sennights. ‘I am happy too. You can come along on my next trip. I don’t want to be away from you for so long either. But promise you will behave and not put yourselves in danger.’ Warm acceptance greeted him. ‘Come on let’s take a dive and see what’s down there.’  
Rhaegal immediately complied, Viserion followed his brother.

Jon felt exhilarated. The view really was amazing. The sea reached for as far as his eyes could see in all directions. He focussed east, looking for a ship. There it was. He urged Rhaegal to approach. Then he squinted. Was that his ship? It looked like another boat was down there. Then he saw his own ship. Jon was not well versed in the art of navigating a ship and he was certainly no master at estimating distances and speed at sea yet. His best guess was that both vessels were destined to cross each other before the sun reached its highest point.

He forgot about the danger of discovery and flew closer to determine whether the other ship posed a threat to them. When he was close enough he recognized the banner of the pirates Sam had described to him. He had asked Harry Strickland if he knew who these pirates were and the commander had warned him about them. They were well known and feared in Pentos. They had the reputation of ferocious fighters and were known to take prisoners to sell them as slaves.  
What were they doing so close to Westeros? Rhaegal could feel his anger towards that ship and before Jon knew it, he had seemingly given Rhaegal the impression they would attack.

Rhaegal dove towards the ship, Viserion at his tail. Both dragons released their fire, each putting a different part of the ship aflame. Jon felt overwhelmed by the heat that he felt flowing through Rhaegal. ‘Up, up’, he ordered them. Luckily Rhaegal complied and soon they were flying above the clouds.

Jon broke the connection to Rhaegal. He blinked a few times and saw Ser Gerold’s relief. It was however short lived when Jon immediately cried out: “ Ser Gerold, call Davos! We need to change course. There’s a pirate ship on fire. It will be severely crippled by now. We need to see if we can save the innocents on board. If Strickland was right, they may have hostages.”

 

***

 

**Later,when the sun was no longer up.**

“What the hell were you thinking boy? Where you thinking at all?” Jon had never seen Davos loose his composure like this.

“I’m sorry Davos. I apologise to all of you. Is Ser Arthur all right?”

“A fucking Ironborn”, Clegane muttered. “Ser Arthur almost got killed saving the cunt of a female Kraken. Don’t you fucking look at me that way boy. That was a dumb thing to do.”

“I know”, Jon agreed. “It all happened so fast, one moment I was recognising that banner and feeling mad about the destruction of Sam’s ship, the other moment the dragons had already decided to help me by attacking.” He looked over to his audience. Everyone had shown up for the debriefing.

He tried to justify himself. “I told you I lacked battle practice. I warned you that using the dragons in battle would take some training. Well here is your proof. I need to learn how they react. I certainly will do all I can to teach them to wait for a more explicit order from me before reacting, especially before burning people.”

“Please tell me how Ser Arthur is doing? Can I see him?”

“He’s resting now”, Ser Gerold took pity on his Prince. “He will be all right in time. He took a nasty wound to his sword arm. It required several stitches and he needed milk of the poppy. He’s sleeping it off now.”

“Why in the Gods’ names were you fighting on the front lines? You could have gotten yourself killed.” Davos looked more worried than angry now. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

“Just a small cut. I’m fine.” Jon looked at Davos with an earnest expression on his face. “I started the battle Davos. Perhaps not on purpose but it was my fault there was a battle at all. When those pirates charged at us, I could not let others risk their lives because of my actions. I could not just sit back and watch. I was trying to fix my own bloody mistake!”

Ser Gerold tried to be the voice of reason. “Calm down Jon, your outburst doesn’t help us any further.”

He addressed everyone now.  
“Let’s all sit down and tell each other our part of the battle. This will help us learn from what happened and find ways to coordinate our actions better in future. It will also help us to calm down.” Ser Gerold had fought his fair share of battles and knew nothing helped as much to ease a soldier’s conscience than the opportunity to talk through his experiences.

 

What had happened? They had approached the ship and seen the pirates’ efforts to try to put out the fire, but the ship was already far too damaged to reach the shore. Two of their masts were completely destroyed. When the pirates spotted their ship they saw their chance for survival. They just had to take the other ship by force. Their numbers had dwindled because several had been killed outright by the initial fire bursts and others were no longer in fighting condition. The ones that were left knew their chances were slim and had fought as if the devil possessed them.

Ser Arthur had followed Jon who had jumped right into the fray. In an effort to shield his Prince he had taken on two men at once. He had been able to hold them off but a third one had jumped in and sliced his sword arm. Jon who fought beside him had prevented worse by stabbing Blackfyre in the attaker’s neck. Clegane had appeared out of nowhere bringing several crew members with him. The latter had extracted the wounded Ser Arthur and brought him to Sam. Clegane had stayed and fought firmly at Jon’s side.

A few moments later the fight was over. No pirates remained alive. The pirates had fought to the last man. On Jon’s end everyone had done their share of killing. Their crew had proven themselves battle worthy. Ser Gerold had shown once more that he was not too old yet and had fought efficiently. Clegane had been fearsome to behold. If they would have kept count, he would surely have had the highest body count.

Edric and Gendry could boast they had lived through a real live battle and had killed a pirate between the two of them. Sam had seen most of this happen from where he guarded the door to the cabin where the Maester, the cook and a few younger servants had been assembled for safety. Ser Gerold had had the presence of mind to shout to Sam to perform that task. He had realised he had to give Sam an honourable task that kept him away from the battle. The young man’s training sessions were not that successful.

 

Afterwards Ser Gerold and a few crew members had boarded the crippled ship and discovered a hostage who had been brought on deck before the fighting started. She later told them they had done that because her small prison was too close to the fire.  
Jon had been baffled. They had risked their lives for one single hostage? At first glance the woman looked like a low born in filthy combat clothing. But she immediately identified herself as Yara Greyjoy then she had urged them to search below deck for she knew of at least two other female prisoners. They had eventually rescued three women. The additional two they found below deck turned out to be kidnapped pleasure slaves.

When Jon had learned the identity of Yara Greyjoy and realised she was a sister of Theon, member of House Greyjoy the ruling house of Pyke, he had decided to leave the shackles on her hands and feet for the time being. He had ordered his men to lock her up below deck. He would interrogate her later once order had been restored. He had given the cabin Sam, Edric and Gendry shared to the two female slaves and had ordered his friends to put their belongings in his room. It would be crowded but if all went well it would be just for this one last night. They would reach the Driftmark early tomorrow morning.

All the bodies of the pirates had been returned to the burning ship. Rhaegal and Viserion had flown down once more to complete the destruction of the vessel. Soon the ship had sunk. Jon had ordered his dragons back to the shore, reassuring them he would be with them soon. He was coming home.  
Then they had given a sea burial to the one casualty they had suffered, according to the man’s dying wish. Jon had known him personally. He had helped train him on the Driftmark. He had been a kind man. Jon remembered talking to him about his children. He made a mental note to see to it that they were taken care of. It would ease his guilt a bit.

 

***

 

“It was entirely my uncle’s doing.” Yara had admitted after some prodding from Jon and Davos.

She was sitting on what Jon thought of as ‘his bench’ on the front deck, Davos and Jon were looming over her. Ser Gerold stood next to her, watching her every move. Jon could see Clegane standing a bit further away hands on the railing of the ship staring intently into the water. He was trying very hard to pretend that he was not listening carefully to every single word of the interrogation.

“You mean your own family wants to get you killed?” Jon did not feel very favourable towards a sister of Theon Greyjoy.

“My uncle is, Euron Greyjoy. He is a younger brother of my father who has left us years ago to make his fortune at sea. Apparently he has been somewhat successful since he told me of the fleet he has assembled. He plans to kill our father and rule the Iron Islands himself. We would be a threat to his claim. He spread the word of a significant reward offered for the capture of his niece and or nephew. The pirates were on their way to Uncle Euron to hand me over and claim the reward.” Yara told all this in a boring tone.

“How much are you worth?” Jon baited her. “I could get my hands on your dick of a brother you know.”

“Theon, you know Theon?” Yara showed some feeling for the first time in the conversation.

“I know him. Can’t say I like him though. I once suffered his company for two sennights when I visited Winterfell.” Jon revealed

“What’s your name boy. I want to know who I will offend.”

“Never mind my name.” Jon said.

“Well then, tell me at least how you defeated these pirates. I must say I am impressed.”

“The fire helped.” Jon tried to evade.

“If that was your doing, you should teach me how you did it. When I was brought above deck by the pirates, your ship was still at some distance. How did you manage to set fire to the ship from so far away?”

“And have the Ironborn use our tactics against us. I don’t think so.” Jon was relieved she had not seen the dragons’ initial attack. He had made sure that only loyal men remained on deck when the dragons had swooped down once more to complete the ship’s destruction. Yara had already been safely locked up below deck.

‘You won’t tell me your name. You won’t tell me how you defeated a very famous pirate. Will you tell me why I am in chains at least?” Yara tried once more to get some information out of the younger man.

“Just know that I hate the Ironborn. I hate your way of life. You reave and pillage, rape and kill, and are proud of it. ‘Paying the Iron Price’ it what you call it? How do you even begin to justify yourselves?” He ended his tirade with this rhetorical question.

“I don’t.”

For the first time Jon really looked at her. It looked like she had meant what she just said.  
“What?”

“I have a small following, Ironborn who want to turn away from the ‘Old Way’ as we call it. We want to settle down and live from trade and do some of our own farming. Trade could make us rich. We are the best at sea. But my father won’t support me. I’ve been trying to recruit more men and want to remove my father from power without killing him. I have even been playing with the idea to fetch Theon one way or another.”

She now looked at Jon.  
“Are you in charge of this vessel? We could strike a deal you know?”

Jon didn’t know how to react to this. He just got up and ordered his men to give her something to eat and drink. Afterwards they should lock her up again.

Jon saw Sandor immediately volunteered for the task of escorting Yara Greyjoy back below deck.  
He forcefully took her arm and started to drag her away. Jon couldn’t hear what Yara said but Sandor’s reply rang loud and clear.  
“Stop flapping yer gums, bitch. We do not need to hear your fucking whinging.”

A small smile ghosted over Jon’s lips. Leave it to Sandor to provide him a small moment of comic relief. The man really had a way with words.  
“Ser Gerold, I’m going to look in on Ser Arthur. I will release him from the company of Edric, Sam and Gendry. I know he will love to have me visit.” Jon was in sore need of advice.

 

***

 

Ser Arthur sat on the bed his back supported by a bundle of furs. He looked at his young charge who sat brooding on a small chair a few feet away.

“Stop blaming yourself, Jon” he reprimanded. “Use this experience as a valuable lesson.”

Jon looked at Ser Arthur. “I pray your sword arm will soon be totally functional again. I want to apologise once more.”

“You know”, Ser Arthur answered, “I once was hailed as the best Swordsman in Westeros. I do not tell you that to boast, just to teach you something. Even the very best fighter can get killed if he is grossly outnumbered. I can take on two men, sometimes more if the circumstances are in my favour, but I would not survive if several men simultaneously tried to kill me.”

He looked over to Jon. “This is a valuable lesson Jon. Either you try to find a location where they cannot come at you from all sides, or you fight in formation. That’s what we are going to focus on as soon as we reach land. We are going to teach you to fight with one or more fighters backing you.”

“Depending on the situation you can fight side by side, or back to back. If you are surrounded from all sides and there are several of you, you can form a protective circle so nobody’s back can be attacked.  
The more familiar you are with the men fighting beside you, the easier it will be to synchronise your fighting moves. Agree on simple signs so everyone knows in the blink of an eye what to do, which opponent to take on and so on. Perhaps I have been remiss in your training.”

“I couldn’t have had a better teacher.” Jon replied instantly. “I was scared during battle, I’ll admit that but I didn’t hesitate. I instinctively knew which tactics to use, how to swing when to use lethal force. I would not have been as efficient if it wasn’t for you. Your lessons are what kept me alive out there.”

“It would have been stupid not to be scared my Prince. Those men were some of the fiercest opponents I have ever faced. They were as battle hardened as they come. They have spent their lives fighting at sea. What’s more they were desperate. Our ship was their last chance to survive. Compared to these men some large battles I fought were a piece of cake. During the rebellion I faced farmers who had been given swords in their hands and hardly had any fighting experience.”

Ser Arthur saw his Prince shift in his seat.  
“As a first battle, you have not had it easy. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about how I got us involved in this battle in the first place.” Jon said filled with remorse.

“Who’s to say they would not have attacked anyway? You said yourself their ship was about to cross ours. If they had decided to attack and they had not been weakened by the dragonfire first, the battle could have been much tougher. No Jon, try not to dwell too much on the what ifs but go forward with the situation at hand. Like I said, it happened. Deal with it. Learn from it.”

“I’ll try”, Jon answered demurely. “Now, what to do about Yara Greyjoy?”

“Set her free? What else would you do with her?” Ser Arthur asked perplexed.

“I have been thinking about what she told me. She claims to have forsworn the Old Ways and has some followers. If we want to sue for peace with the Ironborn and not worry about them attacking our shores, perhaps she is our solution. I’d like to talk to her some more.”

“I don’t know Jon. Don’t reveal too much. Perhaps you should let someone else lead the interrogation. If I was her, I would question why a sixteen year old boy is the leader of some very experienced fighters. Do not raise her suspicion and do not let her see the dragons.”

“Yeah, about that, we were lucky she didn’t see them.” Jon admitted.

“If she disembarks at the Driftmark we will have to be careful.” Ser Arthur pondered the problem.  
“Best put her on another ship immediately. There surely will be one leaving in a direction of her choice.”

“You would just let her go? Not try to plant the seeds of a future alliance? You know we have something she seems to want. That pain in the ass Theon is her brother.” Jon stressed once more.

“I don’t know Jon. I do not trust the Ironborn. But let’s ask what the others think about this. Gods know we need to find a solution for the constant nuisance the Ironborn cause. I would be very glad to never see any ever again!”

“Do you need anything? Can I get you anything before I retire?” Jon asked.

‘I’m not an invalid Jon. It is just my arm that’s wounded. Now that I’m no longer drugged with that nasty milk of the poppy, I can fend for myself. I order you to leave me alone.” Ser Arthur made a move to get up.

Jon immediately grabbed his good arm when he stumbled.  
“It seems you will need some more rest before you can order me around again.” A worried look belied the teasing words. “Get well Arthur”, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

 

**Interlude 8: You’ve got mail**

 

_Jon,_

_I hope you’re still doing well? I enjoyed reading your last letter. I’m looking forward to getting to know Edric Dayne. We should all meet up sometime. I’ve been thinking that the Riverlands could be a perfect location. Both of us would only need to travel half the distance. Everyone would think I’m visiting my mother’s family and I could introduce you to them. It’s really been too long since I’ve last had the opportunity to beat you in one game or another._

_I know you always ask about Ghost’s siblings. Well then, it will be your own fault if my letter bores you to death. Once I begin talking about those wonderful pets, I’m hardly able to stop. If Gods forbid we ever loose contact, I will have a constant reminder of you by my side. Greywind is my best and closest companion and every time I sense his presence I feel safe and whole. I am even more grateful now I realise that I only have him because of you fighting tooth and nail against the combined reluctance of Uncle Benjen and your guards. Yes, I finally wriggled the entire story from him._

_Mother is still not too pleased with you. As I have written to you before, you are the one she blames for every nuisance the direwolves cause at Winterfell._

_A few days ago, Shaggydog, you remember the silly name Rickon gave his wolf once he was old enough to do so, ruined a tablecloth, one mother and Sansa had worked on for ages. They had embroidered it with five direwolves' heads. I must admit it is a shame that it is ruined. The embroidered heads were beautiful renditions of our pets. Mother does speak true when she claims Rickon’s wolf is the worst of the litter. We’ve all promised father we would help Rickon train Shaggydog from now on._

_I’ve written before of father’s initial reaction to the wolves. You know he was reluctant at first but he has come around. He defends their presence to mother nowadays. He even goes as far as to praise you for gifting them to us. He tells her that she should be thankful to you, that the wolves will be the best protection her children will ever have. Their instincts are impeccable and their loyalty is unparalleled. Last night during dinner, he even told us stories of the Starks of old who rode into battle next to their giant direwolves. And for the first time I saw something in mother’s expression that made me hopeful that she will relent in time._

_My siblings on the other hand still revere the ground you walk on. They are all very attached to their pets. It is strange to see how the wolves adapt themselves to the personality of their masters. It has made me wonder whether there is perhaps another explanation. Did the direwolves somehow choose the Stark sibling best suited their personality? Knowing you, you will try to convince me of the latter._

_Anyway you should see Lady. That’s Sansa’s direwolf. I’ve never seen a pet that is so well behaved. Lady walks as elegantly as Sansa, she is always dignified never dirty. Arya’s wolf, Nymeria, is as fearless as she is. Shaggydog is as wild an untamed as Rickon and Summer is as calm as Bran. I’m not sure I’m the one to describe the similarities between Greywind and myself. I would prefer to wait until you see the two of us interact together and let you tell me. Yet another reason why we should meet soon. I know, I promised in my last letter that I would stop ‘winging’ – I like that word by the way – but I am determined to continue whinging until you relent. What I will tell you about Greywind is that he seems to be growing even bigger than I thought possible. I can not begin to guess how much he eats since he mostly hunts at night._

_And how are things with Ghost? Are you doing ‘your thing’ with him? Never mind, why am I even asking? I know you do! I’d love to see you two together. I have never seen an albino with red eyes before. I can just picture the both of you, brooding together in a corner of your room. So please? I will say no more, at least not for a few paragraphs._

_I’m glad there was a sixth puppy. Uncle Benjen told us you found it after you had already decided these ones were for us. You know this makes you a part of our pack, don’t you? Wolves have strong family ties. So by adopting a sibling of our direwolves, you’ve officially been made a member of the Stark pack. I loved the description Uncle Benjen gave us of your direwolf._

_I wanted to ask you something though. Perhaps it is all your tales of seeing through an animal’s eyes that got stuck in my subconscious, but I have started to have these dreams where I see things from Greywind’s perspective. Everything has this yellow hue. In my dreams I run through the woods and hunt game. Sometimes I wake up and the taste of blood still lingers on my tongue._  
_When you bond with Ghost and see through his eyes, is everything tinted red because of his eye colour? I know it sound ridiculous but I can’t help wonder whether there is a chance that what I experience is real and not just a dream but that I sort of bond with Greywind at night?_

_Gods, I really wished we could just speak about this and let our wolves meet each other as well. I know Greywind would like you. Please Jon, if you harass them at your end and I whine enough here, they will have to give in eventually and I can finally see you again and get some very much needed advice._

_Theon has been a pain in my ass again …_  
_The letter went on for a bit. Robb described at length the increased lesson plan he apparently needed as future Warden of the North. He told his father took pains to teach him personally about politics and diplomacy._

_Robb ended however as always with a small part that Arya had dictated. She always wanted to send a personal greeting Jon._

_Hey Jon, when are you finally coming back to Winterfell? I really want to introduce you to Nymeria. I am ever so grateful you gifted her to me. I also want you to see how much progress I made with my bow. I am learning to fight with a sword in secret. Robb is teaching me when mother isn’t there. He says I am already better than Bran, but I must keep it a secret. Hope to see you again very soon. Robb says you are like an adopted brother now you have Ghost. I really like that idea. So I end this message with greetings from your adopted sister, Arya xxx_

_Well Jon, that’s it for now. Father asks me to sends you greetings from him and mother. I’m sure if my other siblings knew of this letter, I would have to relay theirs as well._

_I challenge you to reply with an equally long message and with a firm plan in place to meet soon!_

_Your loyal but impatient friend_  
_Robb_  
_PS forgot to mention Greywind sends some licks as well._

_***_

_Jon,_

_It was nice to receive another letter so soon after your last one. I’m glad you still find the time in your busy schedule to write to me. I enjoy reading about your adventures and no, your letter wasn’t boring because of its length. I enjoyed every word and am already looking forward to the next one._

_I hope it will contain more stories about those pets of yours, all of them. I love hearing about Ghost. I’m still mad at you for not bringing any of them along. I understand why you didn’t mostly, but not about Ghost. Since I have read that you brought him along on the rest of your journey, it seems your excuse that he would not take to being on a ship makes no sense. Your next letter better have an explanation young man! Just kidding. Maybe?_

_I’m counting the days till you can send that ship for me and my life can become an adventure as well. I have not much news to report. Nothing really happens here. The weather is still as hot as ever. The city is very peaceful._

_Have you ever heard of the Lord of Light? Lately some priestesses have come close to where I live to spread this religion. Their most famous slogan is “For the night is dark and full of terrors”. It appears they worship a God of fire. Perhaps this God has some affinity with Targaryens? Anyway, I will be searching for a book or scroll about this R’hllor, or Red God as he is also called, so I can send it to you. When I heard their slogan for the first time, I couldn’t help but think of that tale I read about the Long Night in one of your books with old folk tales of the North. That Night certainly was dark and full of terrors._

_Speaking of your books, I have already read a third of them. The beautiful tome detailing the history of House Targaryen lies beside my bed. I reread a few pages in it every night before I go to sleep. Somehow I like going to sleep thinking about us Targaryens._

_I recently received a disturbing letter from Uncle Aemon. It seems trouble is really stirring at the Wall. I hope your Stark uncles are informed of this and have already taken action. If not, will you see to it that help is sent to the Wall? I wouldn’t want Uncle Aemon to be in danger. I am praying every day that he will live long enough so we can meet in person one day._

_Anyway, I am going to close this letter now so the messenger can be on his way. He will have finished his meal by now. I’m already looking forward to your next letter._

_Please be careful and stay healthy. My thoughts are with you every day._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Daenerys Targaryen_

_***_

_Robb,_  
_Brief message because sent by Raven. I’m planning a sea journey and will leave in a few moons. Will schedule stop at Stony Shore. Particulars follow soon. Hope to meet you there. Have you heard from Uncle Benjen recently? If so please let me know when you send the raven back._  
_Your best friend_

_***_

_My Prince,_

_I sincerely hope this message finds you well. Please relay my greetings to my dear friend the honourable knight as well._  
_On that subject, if you allow women in your Kingsguard let me know. I have trained my beautiful daughters well. Talking about daughters, let me know when you start thinking of taking a queen. I’d only be too happy to let you have your pick. You know I have eight don’t you?_

_Everything is well in Dorne. One of my sandsnakes is in the Reach doing her thing. Varys and I are enjoying thwarting Littlefinger as much as we can. I’ll let Varys make the effort to encrypt the lengthy details of our scheming and send them to you. But know I played an important part in them. Varys will perhaps forget to mention that._

_I fear somehow we are missing something though. We recently found out Littlefinger sent ravens to The Freys in the Riverlands and The Ironborn. According to Varys this was not on the orders of the King or the small council. We were too late to intercept them and have no clue what they contain. Best be wary. I will write again when I have more news._

_I look forward to seeing you sometime soon, I heard you have improved your fighting somewhat. You owe me a spar, I have a long memory. I will want at least one session with you wielding a longspear! I’ll enjoy seeing you bite the dust several times my boy._

_I hope the content of this message will make some sense. That would mean I will have successfully used this ridiculous code that’s giving me head aches._

_Keep well, my honourable friend,_  
_Prince Oberyn Martell,_  
_The Red Viper of Dorne_

 

 

**Interlude 9: Renly**

 

Kings Landing, a lavish villa not far from the Red Keep.

 

“Perfect”, Prince Oberyn was congratulating himself. Varys really has come through. Now it was his move.

As the front door opened, Prince Oberyn convincingly charmed the guard into believing he was there on personal invitation of the guest of honour. He was granted entrance at once.  
Inside he saw Renly Baratheon seated at the head of the table, flanked by his squire, Loras Tyrell, and a tall knight. He looked again, not a knight, it seemed to be a woman in armour.

‘Varys is right. We will kill two birds with one stone.’ Oberyn scanned all the occupants of the room.  
As presumed King Robert was noticeably absent from his youngest sibling’s nameday feast.

Prince Oberyn studied Renly Baratheon’s reaction when he noticed him approach. He didn’t have a welcoming look on his face. He just stared at Oberyn with wary eyes.  
Oberyn bowed lightly and greeted the Prince. Renly Baratheon couldn’t break protocol and accepted the elaborate greeting with a mere nod of his head. He seemed to hesitate but then decided to address his uninvited guest.

“I didn’t now we were expecting you, Prince Oberyn. Allow me to introduce my two table partners, my squire Loras of House Tyrell and the lady Brienne of Tarth who has sworn her sword to me.”  
Oberyn immediately heard the slight slur in these words and realised Baratheon was already a bit drunk.

The introduced couple nodded their heads to him. Oberyn greeted Loras with a cold nod then addressed the lady. “I didn’t know Tarth also had the culture of teaching woman to fight as we do in Dorne?” he was intrigued now.

“They don’t”, Brienne of Tarth started to respond but was stopped by a cold look from Baratheon.

Oberyn tried to break the tension by his theatrical offering of a gift to Renly. He saw Renly hesitate before the Prince stumbled some thanks and accepted the small package.

“Your welcome, Prince Renly. It is the newest smelling liquid our Maesters have come up with. It will be so expensive that few men will be able to buy it. You should try it. It is the best you will have ever smelled.”

Oberyn knew Prince Renly was famous for the care he took of his attire and person. He couldn’t help but grin inwardly when he saw the Baratheon’s immediate interest. Renly opened the delicate bottle and smelled it. A pleased expression crossed his face.

“Don’t be shy”, your Royal Highness, “Feel free to try it on. Everyone will be jealous as soon as they notice how enticingly you smell.” He knew Renly’s would relish the opportunity to attract some of this almost exclusively male audience he had invited.

Oberyn used the moment of goodwill he had created. “My Prince, I would like to pay you a visit tomorrow. We both could benefit from better relations between Dorne and the Stormlands. More importantly we can show our brothers that their stubbornness in clinging to these old grudges is stupid and that us younger brothers are always the ones cleaning up their messes.”

He knew his subtle manipulation had paid of when Renly Baratheon granted him a visit on the morrow.

 

***

 

Prince Oberyn couldn’t help but be smug. He had executed his part of the plan flawlessly. He had returned to the villa the next morning, making sure to bring a delegation with him.  
Plenty of witnesses had seen Renly Baratheon lying passed out on his bed, next to his young squire. Both men were naked. The room still reeked of sex. Gold cloaks had been summoned and both men were taken to the black cells at the discretion of the King.

 

Oberyn had put his time at the citadel to good use. Although he had not had the patience to stay on and forge more links, his studies there had not only given him a good knowledge of poison, he had also learned about drugs and stimulants. It had been easy adding a powerful libido enhancer to the perfume he had offered Renly Baratheon the night before. The poor man never stood a chance. Oberyn was sure the nameday celebration would not have lasted much longer after he left. Poor Loras looked like he had been sodomised thoroughly and repeatedly. He was sure everyone had observed the squire’s red arse and the amount of seed still dripping from the abused hole.  
Oberyn had stressed everyone to keep Loras Tyrell’s involvement a secret until King Robert decreed him a victim or a guilty party.

Now it was Varys’ and Eddard Stark’s turn. They would need to convince King Robert to disinherit Renly without killing him. Varys would caution him about exposing Loras, a scion of the leading house of the Reach and would stall him long enough for Eddard Stark to use his influence on his erstwhile foster brother.

It was essential to their scheme that the Warden of the North could take credit for the saving of the popular Tyrell’s life. He would also take credit for being instrumental in keeping this embarrassment to House Tyrell from being known throughout the realm. Of course most of the credit should go to Oberyn and some to Varys. They were the ones who really had pulled their weight. For Oberyn it was enough that his fellow conspirators knew they owed him.

‘A job well done.’ Oberyn praised himself once more.

Eddard Stark would make a seemingly very charitable offer to take Loras north to Winterfell. He could provide him shelter until the rumours died down and the people would be distracted by another scandal. In reality they had taken another step towards their goal to convince the Reach to their side. If need be they had secured themselves a hostage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter a short stay at the Driftmark will teach Jon many things.  
> 


	10. Rite of passage - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short stay at the Driftmark will teach Jon many things. Then they travel overland to Seagard where ships will convey them to the Stony Shore.  
> In Kingslanding, Tyrion tries to talk some sense into his siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rite of passage is not over yet, Jon has still has ‘many things’ to learn. The chapter turned into the longest yet. It contains 18000 words  
> NEW VERSION!!!!   
> I retconned the scene where Jon interacts with the bedslaves. Being much further along in the story, I didn't believe any longer that the original version was true to his character. He now gets educated without participating actively. I also corrected some typo's I found when rereading the chapter.

*

The moment Jon left the ship, a big white direwolf jumped on him almost toppling him over. Ghost licked his face enthusiastically. Jon let him continue for a short time before ordering him down. The harbour looked busy. Ships were being loaded. Others were discharging their cargo for transit.

The last fifteen years the Driftmark had prospered. Not only had the island seen a substantial increase in trade, the ships that were being built had given every able men who wanted to work a safe and well-paying job. The number of smallfolk had increased. Most families had encouraged their members who had emigrated because of lack of employment, to return.

Jon had become a popular figure. Everybody knew of the little orphan that had come to live among them. When he returned at the age of twelve, they had been wary of the albino direwolf at first. The beast had grown larger than any wolf they had ever seen and the red eyes and white fur made it stand out even more. But the boy and his wolf were welcome everywhere now. Ghost didn’t attack their livestock. If anything he helped chase away the usual predators. Besides, the youth kept his animal well in check.

It certainly helped that most of them were aware that Jon Celtigar’s northern relatives had a hand in the improved situation at the Driftmark. Jon’s easy going personality did the rest to ensure the goodwill and loyalty of the smallfolk. Nobody wanted any harm to come to the boy who had become one of them. They were very protective of him. If some of them suspected he was more than he claimed to be, they kept it a secret. The population of the Driftmark had always been loyal to the Targaryens, most of them originating from Old Valyria themselves. 

Jon saw several people stop what they were doing to watch his wolf’s antics and greeted them smiling in all directions. He then turned around and went over to join his friends. They had decided to walk to the small settlement. They welcomed the exercise since everyone was still suffering from muscle stiffness caused by the battle. Ser Arthur however was on horseback. His wound was still troubling him. Davos accompanied him, glad to have an excuse to ride instead of walk.

Ghost ran up to welcome Jon’s friends and guards.  
  
“Keep your wolf back boy.” Clegane grumbled doing his best to act displeased all the while knowing that Jon wouldn’t be fooled.

“Ghost, to me.” Jon ordered and Ghost immediately complied.

“At least this bastard does as he is told.” Clegane approved

“For all I know Ghost’s parents were married.” Jon joked. Then his expression sobered. “I can’t guarantee how he will react when I send him into battle though. He could very well be my fiercest defender.”

“As he fucking well should be.” Clegane retorted.

“Tell me again why you won’t let us knight you? You’ve certainly earned it. Your quick actions not only saved Ser Arthur’s life but probably mine and many others as well.”

“I’m good at killing. That makes me no fucking knight. ‘Ser’ Sandor would have to behave according to all the shit rules of that dumb court protocol. I ain’t doing shit like that. If you’re tired of addressing me as Clegane you can call me Sandor. What’s your fucking problem anyway?”

“I would like to make you an official member of my Kingsguard. I want everyone to see the role you’ve earned by my side so you get the immediate respect of the nobles and smallfolk.”

Clegane tilted his head with a peculiar look on his face. “Well aren’t I already a part of it? And here I thought you were planning on improving this shit world? Surely you can loosen up some stupid rules a long dead cunt instated hundreds of years ago?”

Jon’s face lightened immediately. “You’re not only a good fighter, you’re a genius Sandor! As of now you are Sandor, the fourth member of my Kingsguard. I’ll have Gendry create some badges for the four of you. I want people to know at first sight that you have an important function very close to their Prince, soon to be King if the Gods will it. Besides, Princess Daenerys gave me some beautiful designs. I’ll make an official statement once the badges are ready.”

“Nothing too fancy, I warn you, boy.”

“Best stop calling me boy though. I’m afraid that’s one rule I am going to force on you.” Jon teased.

“I’ll try, my dearest Prince, but will probably fuck it up once in a while.” Sandor teased back.

“I can live with that.” Jon laughed now. “It could help if you found a substitute for the word ‘boy’ though. Put that genius brain of yours to some use.”

“You’ve got company incoming, Jon, I hope you’re not too green to handle them.” He winked at the youth.

Jon turned his head and saw the two girls they had rescued from the pirate ship approach.  
It was not the first time they had sought out his company. Jon was the only one who was fluent in High Valyrian. He let them fall in beside him and listened to their tales of their former life in Essos. He realised that in doing so, he would be subjected to more teasing from his friends tonight.

 

***

Once arrived at the settlement, Jon took his leave from his friends. “I need to make some visits. I will see you later today.”  
  
He hurried to the place where he his foster grandmother still lived. As always, she was very glad to see him. After a lengthy greeting, Jon sat down and told her a censured version of his journey to Essos. He dwelt some time on his visit to Princess Daenerys. The old woman was visibly touched and often interrupted him to ask after a description of a dress or how she wore her hair. Jon smiled and tried to do his utmost to remember things he hadn’t actually paid that much attention to. He could however tell her of her beautiful eyes and kind smile. He was taken aback by her next question.  
  
“Does the Princess have any suitors? I gather from your tale that she is not yet betrothed? She is of a marriageable age, Jon. It is your responsibility to see her well settled. Remember, you are the head of the family.”

“She is not yet betrothed, Grandma. We both decided to give her the opportunity to adapt herself to living in Westeros first. I would not like to betroth her to a man she has never seen. I will not give her away to someone she hates. She should at least get along with her future husband. Anyway I am still wrapping my head around the fact that I can order my father’s sister whom she has to marry.” Jon tried to keep his tone neutral although he felt very unsettled for some reason.

“So are you not considering yourself, my dear boy?” Her tone was curious but Jon could hear the underlying feeling of disappointment.

“Not you too, Grandma. I admit her husband will be a lucky man. However she is family and I will not force her to marry her nephew. What’s more, my advisers have been busy presenting several potential brides for me and husbands for her.”  
  
He took her hand, desperate to make her understand this difficult choice. “If political marriages can gain us the necessary support to avoid bloodshed, do you see me living happily ever after with a wife of my own choice knowing full well that as a result of my selfishness thousands died?”

“You are not Prince Rhaegar, Jon. He was already married. You do not have a Mad King for a father. This is a very different situation. The little I have heard of your plans, you have already gained substantial support. Promise me not to agree to a betrothal lightly. Allow yourself the same courtesy as you do the Princess. You should at least get along with your future wife. And that is the last I will say on this matter. I trust you to do the right thing.” His grandmother squeezed his hand and then released it. She took the little box that stood beside her on a small table.

Jon was relieved the subject was dropped. He knew the box contained letters from his former wet nurse. He took it from her and searched for the most recent letters. He put them in the correct order and started to read out loud. It was their usual routine. His grandmother’s eyesight was not getting better with age and the effort of reading sometimes gave her a headache. Jon didn’t mind performing this small service for her. He was always glad to hear how Wylla was doing. He had a fond memories of his nurse. She had returned to Dorne when Jon left for Greywater Watch shortly before his fifth nameday. This way they still kept in touch. She often addressed a small part of the letter to him and Jon would dictate an answer to be included in his grandmother’s responses.  
A while later Jon left his foster grandmother with the promise to visit again the next day.

It was almost noon when Jon and Ghost arrived at the cave where his dragons were slumbering. Ser Oswell had guard duty and kept a respectful distance knowing full well that nobody could protect Jon better than the combination of a direwolf and two dragons.

Rhaegal was the first to lift his head. He watched his human approach. Jon realised for the first time how large the dragons had grown. He hadn’t noticed this when he had looked through Rhaegal’s eyes. And later he had only seen them high up in the sky, their shape obscured by the clouds.

He gently stroked the scales on Rhaegal’s left cheek. The dragon purred and closed his eyes. Viserion’s head nudged Jon’s shoulder. Jon smiled “Glad to see you too, Viserion.” He petted the silverwhite dragon as well.

Happy but a bit weary he installed himself on the ground, his back against Rhaegal’s flank. Ghost sat down as well and rested his head on Jon’s legs. Jon enjoyed the peace and quiet for a bit.  Then he closed his eyes and warged into Rhaegal. That was the easiest way to share his feelings about the battle in images and feelings, and prevent misunderstandings.  
Rhaegal could feel how grateful he was for their help. How proud he was that they could fly so high and fast, how his human relished how strong and powerful they had become. Slowly he opened his mind further and let Rhaegal feel how he would have liked a bit more reticence before attacking and that Jon preferred to avoid human casualties if possible, even if the men were evil.  
  
The green dragon grumbled a bit at that. Jon shifted his position. He petted his dragon and tried a different tactic. He showed Rhaegal how he himself had made mistakes and learned from them. He also reassured him they all would get better at understanding each other’s intentions every time they worked as a team. The next time they would already be smarter. He felt the dragon struggle with the concept of showing enemies mercy, but Jon sensed him trying to consider his point of view. He was confident Rhaegal would think on it some more and share his feelings with Viserion.  
  
Jon planned to revisit the subject with them at least one more time before they left the Driftmark. He would then try to convince them not to attack until he gave explicit permission. He was hopeful they would be willing to adhere to that as long as Jon’s own life was not in acute danger. If that was the case, he knew there would be no stopping them, his years with Ghost had taught him that much.

Sometime later he started to talk quietly. It looked like he was talking to himself but he sensed that Rhaegal was listening with his eyes closed. Viserion on the on the other hand could be heard snoring lightly.

“We’re going to be travelling together soon. First we will be marching over land. I want you two to stay high up in the sky, out of sight and only come down when you can do so in deserted areas where no humans are around. After dark when we have set up camp, find a discreet place in the woods. I’ll do my best to come and stay the night with you. Later on, I’ll travel by boat again but this time the ship will stay close to the coast lines. You can follow me and sleep on the shores. I promise to connect with you each night right after dark. You don’t have to remember all that. Don’t worry. We’ll take it one day at a time. For now, let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”  
Jon leaned his head against Raeghal’s flank, closed his eyes and dozed for a bit.

 

***

Ser Oswell woke Jon a bit later.  Jon in turn woke Ghost and together the three of them walked back to the small settlement.

“And how was your first battle experience?” Ser Oswell asked.

“Haven’t you heard it all ad nauseam from Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur? Jon evaded. “I do not know how I feel about it.”

“I heard from them and from several others as well.” Ser Oswell answered. “Tell me anyway.”

“Guilty about how it started. Proud at how well I could fend off experienced fighters, very troubled about Ser Arthur getting wounded and a crewman losing his life. I am glad to have some battle experience under my belt, not really sorry for the men I killed. I feel ashamed for the fear I felt when they charged at me. I’d say I’m conflicted.” Jon looked at Ser Oswell watching his reaction to his words.

“I heard you handled yourself well. You were brave. Battles can have unexpected outcomes. You are not responsible for everything that happens in this world, my Prince. But sometimes you act like it. I could accuse you of being imperious if I didn’t know you any better.”

Seeing his Prince had nothing further to say he continued. “Anyway, I look forward to the new training exercises. I hear we are going to battle in formation. It will not be boring, that I can tell you.”

“Thanks Ser Oswell.” Jon said quietly a bit later when the settlement came into view.

“You’re welcome my Prince.”

 ***

Jon saw Gendry in front of the workshop of the local blacksmith. “Hey Gendry, couldn’t stay away from the forge?”

“I can’t help it. I miss the work I did with Tobho Mott.” Gendry inspected some tools. The first time he had arrived at the Driftmark with Davos, he had immediately befriended Jekken, the only blacksmith at this little settlement.

“Then perhaps you could help me out? I would like some items custom made. Perhaps Jekken will let you use his forge when he is finished working?”

“Gendry is welcome here anytime, My Lord”, the blacksmith was quick to oblige. He has helped me several times and even taught me a new technique that greatly improves the quality of my products. I’ll assist him if necessary.”

“Thank you Jekken. “ Jon and Gendry said simultaneously and grinned at each other.

“What would you like me to make? My hands are itching already.” Gendry seemed really eager.

“I have some drawings and measurements in my room. I’ll fetch them. I was hoping you could finish some of them before we depart.”

Jon addressed Jekken again. If you can provide Gendry with the ore as well, I will see that you are compensated accordingly.”

“I know, I’m not worried, My Lord. You’re my favourite customer.”  
  
Jon acknowledged this remark with a smile.

“I’ll be back soon”, Gendry promised Jekken. He followed Jon inside to get the drawings.

 

***

**Later that evening.**

Jon entered the hall where dinner was being served. Somehow, he ended up sitting between the two female slaves they had saved from the pirates. He saw his friends looking at him and heard them giggle amongst themselves. He did his best to ignore them and attempted not to blush at the slightest provocation. He feared he failed miserably at this last thing though.

Clea and Ornella had taken a liking to the dark haired youth.  “However do you get your hair to curl like this?” Clea asked twisting one of his dark curl around her finger while she talked to him.

Jon’s blush deepened as he gently disentangled her finger from his hair placing her hand on the table away from him. She smiled seductively at him not deterred in the least by his action.

Jon tried to laugh his embarrassment away. “I don’t know how to prevent it from curling.”  
He tried for a more serious topic. “I can arrange for a ship to take you back to Essos in the next few days. Only if you want to go back, that is,” he added.

Ornella and Clea responded almost simultaneously. “No!”

“We would just be enslaved again. This tattoo marks us as escaped slaves.” Ornella pointed at a small tear that was etched beneath her right eye. “We would never be able to choose our own life in Essos. We’ve talked it over and would like to start anew here. Perhaps find a job as a handmaid or learn a craft? I am good with a needle. Clea can make beautiful drawings.

“I’ll see what I can do for you. I’ll talk to Lord Velaryon or his castellan. He has contacts with everyone of importance on this island. We will find you some honest work. Nobody will bed you against your will ever again if you stay here.” Jon promised them in a confident voice.

The girls were beautiful, a bit exotic looking but had a pale skin. They would not be so out of place at the Driftmark. The population was a mix of races already. There were a lot of immigrants from Old Valyria with light hair, the original population with brown or red hair and the influx of dark haired Northerners.

“We can even try to help you find husbands. Start a family, have children.” Jon offered.

Clea giggled and whispered. “We would both love to bed you for free, just the one time, nobody needs to know. We would like to help you, teach you things, you know. We know more than just the simple penetration act.” She leaned closer to him and brushed his arm while staring seductively in his eyes.

Jon was scarlet now. He didn’t know how to react. He just sat there looking very embarrassed.  
Finally he responded speaking softly so nobody could overhear what they were talking about.  
“You do not need to lower yourselves again just because you’re grateful to me. You can forget about all that now.”

“It would be our pleasure my Lord. We really like you and it would be freely offered. We are sure we would enjoy it immensely ourselves. Or do you already have a wife, a lover somewhere?” It was Clea who asked this.

Ornella saved Jon the need to reply. “Can’t you see the boy is as innocent as a new born lamb? We would have to teach him everything.”

“Even better,” was Clea’s delighted reaction.

“Keep your voices down.” Jon didn’t know where to look. His face felt aflame. His entire body felt flushed. It certainly had a different opinion than his mind concerning this matter. He tried to find a way to extract himself from this conversation without offending the both of them.  
“I need to go speak with my friends. I just remembered something,” he knew it was a very lame excuse.

They laughed in response and let him escape for now.

 

***

 

“Well son,” Davos walked him to his room. He had taken pity on the boy who had had to withstand numerous teasing attacks from his friends and Kingsguards before giving up and deciding to retire for the night. “Would you be prepared to listen to some well-meant advice of an old man who has some experience with women?”

“From you, I would welcome it.” Jon used the same hushed tone as Davos had. He was relieved Davos broached the subject since he was in sore need of advice. Talking to Davos would help him make sense of his predicament.

“A man needs to learn how to handle women. You have lived too sheltered.” He looked pointedly in the direction of Ser Gerold who followed the both of them but stayed out of hearing range.  
“Perhaps you should use the opportunity to fill this gap in your education?”

“I would be taking advantage of them”, he objected.

“Not if they offered without being pressured. Not if they liked you and wanted to help you. Is this really the true reason you object?” Davos pressed him. They had stopped at a bench that stood in the corner of the training yard. Davos sat down and gestured Jon to do the same.  
“You can tell me anything, I won’t judge. I won’t laugh. I won’t gossip.”

“I know Davos. If there is anyone I could speak to about this, it would be you. I’m too embarrassed though.” Jon’s cheeks had turned red again.

Davos studied Jon closely. “Let me speak for you then. You are tempted, very much so. You can imagine it vividly and are ashamed of yourself. You think you are wanton, you fear you are dishonouring them and you want to stay chaste until marriage. Am I close?”

“Something like that”, Jon admitted but still didn’t volunteer anything more.

Davos sighed. How to put it delicately and not scare the youth away?  "Jon, I don’t think I known of a male entering his marriage vows without at least some previous experience. If you look at it in a pragmatic way, isn’t it better that at least one of the parties concerned knows what they’re doing? If you go about it the wrong way, you end up hurting the woman you bed. If that happens on your wedding night, it might alienate your wife from you and you would have to force her each time you wanted to make an heir.”

Jon looked rather alarmed at Davos now.

“Do it right however, and the marriage bed can become a place of pleasure for the both of you. Bedding your wife can be a daily occurrence providing satisfaction and comfort to the both of you. Many a political marriage can be turned into a happy one if the man is a generous lover. You could end up with a very loving and devoted wife. I’m sorry to talk so blunt about this but someone needs to tell you this.”

“Women can like it? Want it for more than the begetting of children?” Jon couldn’t image Lady Catelyn and Uncle Ned coupling for the fun of it.

“Believe me they do. Couples appear all noble and formal in public, but once the doors of the bedroom are closed, all bets are off. That is, if the man is a good lover. A man can take a long time worshipping a woman’s body. Do not think of the act as just lifting her skirt and putting your member inside of her for a few moments and be done with it. You need to take your time. The best way is to undress her completely and see to it you are completely naked as well. It will enhance the experience.”

“What if I am no good at it?” Jon was out of his depth now, his embarrassment forgotten by this new dilemma.

 

“Anyone can learn this if he is willing to put in the effort. That’s why I’m working my way up towards convincing you to accept the two willing teachers that offered themselves up to you earlier. If a man doesn’t know how to satisfy his wife, if he neglects her or if he is cruel to her, the woman can be enticed by other men. Her sexual desires can be awakened by someone who sees an opportunity and she could bear you children that are not your own. I know of a man who is proudly raising his male heir, not knowing he was sired by his rival. You wouldn’t want that.”

They had reached the building where Jon slept by this point.  Davos however was not done talking.  
  
“You better realise that you will be married for a big part of your life. That is if you are lucky. The best way to ensure a tolerable marriage is to treat your wife with honour. The best way for a happy marriage is to treat her with respect, listen to her and gain her love. Satisfying her in bed is a very good start to ensure that. Your good looks and compassionate nature will do the rest.” Davos tried to end this awkward conversation on a lighter note.  “You do not need to bed them.  Just let them explain things to you.  There’s two of them.  They can show you without you having to touch them.”

“How would I do that and not let the entire settlement know? Even if I convinced myself that it would be alright to do this now, I would still be very embarrassed if we were discovered.” Jon was very tempted but was not entirely convinced he could face the consequences.

“Leave that to me.” Davos useful as always had a plan at the ready. “I will have to let Ser Gerold in on it as he has guard duty tonight. I’m afraid that means your other Kingsguards will learn about this very soon but I’ll convince them somehow to stop teasing you about it. However we will try to keep it from Edric, Sam and Gendry. I’m sure there will come a time you can be the one to tease them about this for a change. I’ll get the girls to your chambers discreetly, after you've had plenty of time to refresh yourself.

“Tonight? This night?” Jon felt really conflicted.

“Yes, before you have time to change your mind. I am not willing to repeat this discussion with you ever again. If you think you were embarrassed ….?” Davos winked at him.

 

***

 

The next morning Jon woke really late. It had been a strange, embarrassing but enlightening night.  
The girls had been very willing to explain and show him many things. He remembered all too vivid Clea using Ornella’s body to show Jon various ways to prepare a woman before entering her.

“Always verify. Check whether she is wet enough down there,” she had explained patiently. “She should be as slick as a baby seal. If she isn’t yet, get her to relax. Find out which of the ways we showed you pleases her most. Pay attention to her body language and the sounds she makes when you touch each part of her body.”

When Jon had stated after some very sensual lessons that he knew enough and that it was sufficient, they had persuaded him to hear them out since they had to tell him a few more things regarding the male anatomy. After a bit more coaxing, Jon had complied and had listened closely when they had described the different positions for coupling and the way a man could hold off on releasing his seed.

Next Ornella had proceeded to tell him of all the ways women could prevent getting with child. It was the first time Jon had heard of a woman’s cycle and all its influences on a woman’s body and mood.  


It had taken all Jon’s willpower not to let himself be persuaded to bed them. When both girls had left him with a small peck on his check, Jon had felt the need to release himself. This time when he took himself in hand it was over after a few strokes. He had only needed to picture one of the more alluring poses they had shown him.  He was ready to admit now that Davos had been right once more.  There had been a lot to learn and he was much better equipped for his wedding night than if he had stubbornly refused Clea’s and Ornella’s help.  
  
Whether he would be able to face them come morning, he was not so sure.   However next time that the boys would tease him about girls, at least he would have the secret pleasure that he knew at least as much as them, if not more.

 

***

 

“You’re late Jon. You were needed before.” Sam called out to him when he entered the room where everyone had already finished breaking their fast. Gendry and Edric were eying him suspiciously. Ser Gerold remained stoic.

“I slept really well”, Jon replied. “Where is the fire?”

“There’s a raven with the direwolf seal. We think it is from your Uncle Benjen. We are all anxious to know what it contains. Hopefully the news will not affect our journey.” Sam handed him the little scroll.

Everyone kept staring at him expectantly so Jon relented and read the message before he ate.  
He broke the seal and read it. A big smile appeared on his face.  
“Uncle Benjen is in King’s Landing. He wants to join us on our trip north. He asks to prepare provisions for three additional travellers since he will be bringing two friends with him.”

He looked over to Ser Gerold. “He suggests we meet up in the woods near Antlers, the castle of Lord Buckwell. That is between King’s Landing and Harrenhal. We were planning to travel through there anyway. The only tricky thing is the timing.  He will be there in in five days’ time. If I am correct, we would have to leave the day after tomorrow. That is one day sooner than planned.”

“Who will he bring? What if they see the dragons?” Ser Gerold remarked.

“It is Uncle Benjen, Ser Gerold. Do you really think he would do something that would endanger me? But to answer your question, no he did not mention names. That could mean they are either just unknown men travelling north, to the Wall perhaps?  Or they are very important people and he doesn’t want this to get out should the message be intercepted.” Jon assumed.

“Enjoy your breakfast first. I’ll gather everyone so we can coordinate our efforts to get everything prepared to leave at first light the day after tomorrow.” Ser Gerold signalled Sandor to take over guard duty and left to alert Davos and Ser Arthur.

“I wonder who he is bringing along.” Sam mused. “Did you know what he was doing in King’s Landing Jon?”

“He mentioned something about Prince Oberyn in a previous letter but didn’t go into detail. I know the Prince is prone to travel a lot but I cannot think of a good reason why he would journey across the Riverlands and sail to the Stony Shore in our company. It must be someone else. We’ll just have to be patient.” Jon answered.

Jon took a plate and finally sat down to eat. He was really hungry.

“Jon, do you mind if we get some air before another boring meeting starts?” Gendry asked.

“Of course not, go and enjoy the sun while you can. I could do with some peace and quiet.”

Gendry and Edric left immediately. Sam hesitated and decided to stay with Jon for now.

Jon turned to him with a solemn smile. “You can join them outside you know. It will probably be a long boring meeting, they are right about that. “

“Jon”, Sam hesitated. “Not to pry or judge you know, but did you, you know, with those girls.” Sam couldn’t look Jon in the eye his face was very red.

Jon looked down, the smile disappeared from his face and he just nodded. Then he raised his head once more to look at Sam. “Not as you think.  I didn’t really participate.  They just showed me things.  Don’t tell the others yet please? Let me decide when or what to tell. It was a onetime only thing anyway, a kind of learning experience.” Jon’s cheeks were at least as red as Sam’s now.

An awkward silence ensued. Then Sam nodded solemnly. “I won’t say a word but know they suspect. I cannot guarantee they won’t pester you about it.”

“That’s fine Sam. I’ll handle their jibes one at a time.” Jon gave him a small smile.

“You know,” Sam said awkwardly while he rose from his chair. “I think I will join them outside for a moment. I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Yes Sam and thanks. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re welcome Jon. I can say the same about you.”

Jon returned his attention to his plate and smiled to nobody in particular. It was a beautiful morning after all.

 

***

 

‘ _It seems Gendry was right once more. It really is a boring meeting. Why do I have to concern myself with all the logistics? Do I really have to help them calculate how many supplies to bring along? What can be procured along the way and so on? The only interesting part is the road we’re going to take.’_  
Jon’s mind wandered off for a bit. He knew Ghost was somewhere outside. He concentrated and soon he was outside near the caves. The dragons felt his presence and lifted their lazy heads looking curiously at Ghost.

“Jon! Jon! Pay attention. Where were you?” Davos reprimanded him. This meeting is to plan your journey. The least you can do is pretend to be interested.”

“Sorry Davos,” Jon excused himself a sheepish expression on his face. “I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” He looked at Davos keeping his face level to hide his little victory. He had made Davos blush.

 

***

The last day before they were set to leave, Jon had spoken to Ser Gerold about his nomination of Sandor Clegane to his Kingsguard. When Ser Gerold had agreed stating the man had earned his knighthood twice over, Jon had needed all his powers of persuasion to get Ser Gerold to set aside the steep traditions he had lived by all this life and make this exception.

That evening, Jon made a small speech before dinner. He officially named Sandor Clegane a member of his Kingsguard and handed the four of them their new badges. Gendry had outdone himself. The badges depicted two crossed swords engulfed in flames. He promised to replace them later with a version that had two dragons at each side facing the swords, but for now these would do.

When he pinned the badge on Sandor, he whispered to the man that if he ever changed his mind, he just had to say the word and Ser Gerold would knight him on the spot.  
Sandor had just swallowed and accepted the badge with moist eyes.

 

***

 

The first part of their journey had gone smoothly. A short boat trip brought them from the Driftmark to the Crownlands. They had come ashore well north of King’s Landing and had reached the woods near Antlers on schedule.

Soon the tents were set up and they all enjoyed a simple meal. It seemed they were the first to arrive. Now they just needed to wait for Uncle Benjen and his mystery guests. His friends were talking about nothing else. The wildest ideas were thrown into their little group.

Jon had no patience to dwell on that now. He wanted to go see to his dragons. He had felt them land some time ago. He asked Ser Oswell to keep an eye on him as he sat down and warged into Ghost. They were off in a flash, it didn’t take them long to find a large rock with the dragons beside it. He ordered Ghost back to the camp and left his warg mode.

“Ghost has found the dragons. It’s not that far from here. I will go to them and sleep there. Will you let Ser Gerold know we will be leaving? We can set off as soon as you are back. Ghost will have returned by then and can lead us there. I will take Blackfyre with me as well.

A bit later Ser Oswell returned and was accompanied by Ser Arthur.  
“We have brought our tent and will sleep out there with you”, the latter explained. “Ser Gerold’s orders.”

“Let’s go then, I am eager to see with my own eyes how they are doing. They have flown for the better part of two days. I want to know if they had sufficient energy left to find food and have everything they need.”  
  
They left their horses behind and followed Ghost to where the dragons were resting. Jon had tried to let the dragons do their own thing. It was part of the reason for this journey. They needed to learn to fend for themselves and behave according to some ground rules he had set up for them. He had forced himself not to check up on them and had used this time to enjoy the company of Sam, Edric and Gendry. It was nice discovering new lands with the boys.

“Hello boys,” Jon greeted his dragons, glad to see them lying comfortably sheltered by the large carved out rock which provided shelter from the winds. Rhaegal puffed some smoke at him. Jon petted the dragons for some time enjoying his connection to the both of them. When the three of them were done exchanging feelings and felt at ease with each other once more, he installed himself, as he often did, with his back to Rhaegal’s flank. He also rested his head against the dragon’s warm scales. Ghost installed himself a bit further away and fell asleep almost instantly.

‘ _And how was your day?_ ’ He entered Rhaegal’s mind and together they remembered the last few days. The dragons hadn’t been in the air the entire time. Since they could fly much faster as the tiny humans moved on their beasts, the dragons were way ahead of them and had often doubled back, playing in the air. When the sun was at its highest peak they had found a deserted beach with a cave and had slumbered for a bit. There was plenty of game to be had and both of them had eaten well. Jon was reassured. They had been careful. All would be well. He left Rhaegal’s mind and sent his approval to the both of them. Then he nestled himself still closer to Rhaegal. The dragon curled his body around him and Jon felt warm and loved. He relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

 

***

 

The next morning he woke up feeling cold. Apparently Rhaegal and Viserion had just taken off. He could see them fly higher and higher until they disappeared behind the clouds. He saw Ghost and Ser Arthur watching him. Both sat before the little tent. As soon as Ser Arthur noticed Jon get up, he dipped his head inside of the tent to wake Ser Oswell.

“Get ready. We move out immediately.” Turning to Jon he said, “Time to join the others and check if your uncle has arrived.”

When they entered the encampment everyone was huddled around the fires. It was still moist and chilly out in the woods this early in the morning. The cloud covered sky didn’t allow the sun to help things much. Jon joined them and accepted a plate filled with food that Sam handed him.

“No sign of Uncle Benjen yet?” he asked Ser Gerold when he had almost finished eating. The knight was the only one left around the fire. The others had long finished their meal and were busy with chores around the encampment.

“Nothing yet. Perhaps you can send Ghost on a scouting mission?”

“I will finish my plate first, and then I will send him off. As soon as we’re done here we can organize a small fighting competition. At the very least the activity will keep us warm.”

“I would prefer you to repeat that last exercise once more, the one where you fight back to back with Edric while four men are coming at you simultaneously. Edric is making progress, don’t you think so?” Ser Gerold asked him.

“I’ve told him as much yesterday.” Jon smiled. “Even Gendry is making progress if you keep in mind he had hardly wielded a sword before he came to the Driftmark. He still prefers his hammer though.”

“Sam however …” Ser Gerold was looking for the right words.

“He doesn’t need to become a good fighter. Just try to teach him the basic principles to defend himself. I intend to send him to the Citadel to become a Maester if he agrees and if I can clear it with his Lord Father.” Jon really wanted Sam to stay with him.

“Has he given up his idea of joining the Night’s Watch then?” Ser Gerold asked.

“He has not admitted it to me yet, but I can see he is tempted. I’m trying to give him space.”  
  
An idea suddenly struck Jon. “Perhaps there is a better tactic. Perhaps I just need to set Davos loose on him. If anyone can persuade someone to do something, it is him.”

“Speaking from personal experience, my Prince?” Ser Gerold couldn’t keep it in. “Two girls simultaneously Jon?”

Jon turned crimson. “Hmm I think it is time I set Ghost on his way”, he stammered. He got up and left Ser Gerold ignoring the big smirk on the knight’s’ face.

 

***

 

Ghost had not immediately known which direction to take. Jon was starting to grow worried. He saw Davos and Sandor approach.

“Something wrong boy?” Clegane asked

“You know I don’t like to be called boy.” Jon retorted.

“Well do not stand around looking like a little lost boy then, my Prince.” Sandor grinned.

“What’s wrong Jon?” Davos interrupted their banter.

“I’m just worried about my uncle. He should have been here by now. I told Ghost to seek him out but he seems at a loss in which direction to start.” Jon was eager for some advice.

“Simple as fuck,” was Clegane’s answer. “Send him in the direction of that stinking city, south slightly east.”

Jon looked at Ghost and the direwolf sprinted away.

“Thanks Sandor.”

“Wait until they are found. Enough time for thanks then.” Sandor looked toward the direction Ghost had taken. “Do you mind if I do some scouting myself?”

“Best clear it with Ser Gerold. It is fine by me.” Jon said seeing Sandor depart.

“They will be all right, Jon. Your uncle can handle himself.” Davos tried to reassure him.

“We do not know whom he is bringing along. It could be two prisoners for the Wall that are sabotaging him as much as they can. He is never late if he can help it.” Jon argued.

“It doesn’t do you any good to mope about it. Get that training sword of yours and let us admire your fighting prowess once more. I never tire of seeing it.” Davos tried a distracting tactic.

“Davos, if you have the time, can you talk to Sam sometime?” Jon now also used the tactic of focussing on other things to forget his current worries for a time.

“You mean talk him out of joining the Night’s Watch?”  Leave it to Davos to understand him with barely any information.

“Aye?” Jon looked hopefully at Davos. “Do you not think he would be an excellent Maester? He absorbs knowledge as no one I have ever known. I know we would have to convince his father. I think we can appease the man if we send him a written statement in which Sam relinquishes all rights to Horn Hill for himself and every possible issue he might have.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Davos promised. “Come on, let’s get moving. I’m sure they are already waiting for you to start the sparring sessions.

 

***

It was almost dark before Ghost ran back into the camp. Jon got up straight away and met Ghost halfway. Ser Arthur cursed and ran after them. Ghost and Jon had set of in the direction the direwolf came from. “Jon, wait, I’m coming with you.” Ser Arthur called after him.

Jon stopped sprinting and looked back. Ser Arthur reached him catching his breath. “Why don’t you do your warg thing. If Ghost has found him before, he can find him again and a lot faster than the two of us. Once you know they are all right we can go meet them without breaking our necks. If they are in trouble, we will know how to approach them.” It was sound advice.

Jon sat down and closed his eyes. Soon he was running faster than he ever had. Trees flashed by, frightened animals hurried off clearing his path and suddenly there was Uncle Benjen. Jon felt Ghost’s exhilaration as he jumped Uncle Benjen and greeted him by licking his face. Uncle Benjen ordered him to stop. Ghost complied and looked for possible threats. There were three other humans but they seemed harmless now they had sheathed their swords. Jon focussed Ghost’s eyes and looked them over. Closest to him stood a man in his fifties dressed as a knight, next to him a young man perhaps the same age as Jon himself, richly dressed but looking haggard, and … he looked once more, was that a woman? It seemed so. Everyone looked all right. Uncle Benjen patted him and looked Ghost in the eyes. He felt the reassurance through Ghost’s mind. He released his connection to Ghost.

Ser Arthur saw Jon come out of his trance. “And?”

“They seem all right. I do not know what the delay was about. He is accompanied by three travellers though.”

“Describe them to me. I still know a lot of people in King’s Landing”, Ser Arthur ordered.

“Well, there is a woman amongst them. She is unusually tall, muscular and dressed as a knight. I first mistook her for a man.”

“Did you notice a sigil on her armour?” Ser Arthur asked.

“I didn’t look.” Jon confessed feeling dumb now.

“Never mind, I do not think many women match that description. That could be the Lady Brienne of Tarth. Remember her from Prince Oberyn’s report? She was a sworn shield of Prince Renly.”

“Of course, that could be her!”

“Who else did you see?”

“An older man, perhaps in his fifties, clearly a knight. No sigils that I noticed immediately.”

“Mmmmh could be anyone by that description but I know of only one knight in King’s Landing who would want to come look for you.”

“Ser Barristan the Bold?”

“Let’s hope so. Who else?”

“A young knight, perhaps my age? He did not look well. He seemed unkempt although his clothes looked expensive. Oh, I saw a sigil on him: three golden roses on a field of green, Tyrell?”

“Loras! Then the scheme worked, although this is much sooner as expected. I hope Eddard Stark can still take credit. This is good news, my Prince. Perhaps the delay had something to do with him?”

“Let’s go meet them.” Jon led the way taking large steps.

‘At least I do not have to run this time.’ Ser Arthur hurried after his charge, looking forward to seeing Ser Barristan again. It had been a very long time.

 

***

 

**A bit earlier in the woods.**

They had stopped to water their horses and were about to continue their journey. Ser Barristan took the reins of his horse and led it back toward the others. Suddenly his horse spooked. Ser Barristan immediately went for his sword. He saw Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne startle as well. A large white animal jumped Benjen Stark.

“Don’t hurt it!” he heard Stark call out. “It’s okay. This is a dear friend of mine.”

Three pair of unbelieving eyes saw some kind of giant white animal playfully slobber all over Stark.  
“Down Ghost!” he ordered and to their amazement the big creature complied but still nudged Stark’s flank seeking contact.

“Is this Jon’s pet?” Ser Barristan asked quietly.

Benjen Stark simply nodded. He turned towards the others. “Don’t be afraid. This is a direwolf I grant you, but one that has been raised by a friend of mine from a tender age. As long as you don’t hurt anyone he considers part of his pack, he won’t hurt you. Threaten me for example and your throats will be ripped out before you can even start to think about defending yourselves.”

Loras looked at the direwolf with curiosity. Ser Barristan was glad to see this. The boy had seemed to spiral deeper into a depression as the time went on.  
  
“Can I pet him?” Loras looked at Benjen Stark.

“Better wait till his master arrives. He obeyed me this time but I can’t guarantee he will do so again.” Stark warned. “Can you guide us to Jon, Ghost?”  
  
The direwolf seemed to consider this but then disappeared as fast as he had appeared.

“He’s probably going to bring Jon to us.” Benjen answered the unspoken question.

Ser Barristan stepped closer to Benjen. “We just stay here and wait?”

“Let’s try and meet them halfway.” Benjen Stark turned his head and called out to all three. “Come along! We’ve almost caught up with the others.” He started off in the direction the direwolf had come from.

The next time the animal came back into sight. Ser Barristan hardly looked at it. His eyes were fixed on his two companions. Never mind that his eyes grew moist at the sight of Ser Arthur, he hadn’t seen his friend for more than sixteen years, his curiosity got the better of him and he shifted his attention to the boy next to his former friend.  
  
_‘Rhaegar’s son, he truly is Rhaegar’s son.’_  Ser Barristan was sure of it. The dark curls could mislead many but Barristan had been very close to Rhaegar. Besides it was easier if you already knew what you were looking for. He recognised the delicate cheekbones, the firm chin but also the way the young Prince held himself. Ser Barristan couldn’t wait to get to know him and find more similarities.

He saw Stark dismount and envelop the boy in a warm hug. The Prince seemed an eager participant. “I’m glad your safe, Uncle. I was starting to get worried.” Ser Barristan heard him say.

With effort he tore his eyes away from the boy and dismounted as well so he could greet them properly. Ser Arthur didn’t hesitate and made the first move. Ser Barristan received a brief hug and a pat on his back.  
  
Ser Barristan looked his erstwhile brother in the eyes. “Sixteen years and not so much as a secret message”, he scolded.

“My sworn vow took precedence. You would have done the same to keep him safe.” Ser Barristan saw firm conviction in Ser Arthur’s eyes.

He nodded and turned his attention back on Benjen Stark and his nephew. They had finished greeting each other. The direwolf sat beside them keeping a close eye on his pack.

Benjen Stark did the honours. “Let me introduce you to Jon Celtigar and his sworn sword Ser Arthur. I told you we will join his entourage since we share the same destination. It is safer to travel across these lands in larger company.

“Jon, Ser Arthur, please meet Lord Loras of House Tyrell, the youngest son of Mace Tyrell who is the lord Paramount of the Reach and Lord of Highgarden. His father is currently a member of the small council. Lord Tyrell will visit the Starks at Winterfell and will join you for the first part of your journey.”  
  
He then turned to the large woman. “This is the Lady Brienne, daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Evenhall on the Isle of Tarth.”

Ser Arthur jumped in, wanting to be the one to introduce his former brother to his King.  “Let me introduce you to Ser Barristan Selmy, Jon.”  
  
Everyone exchanged greetings and the party continued on foot towards the small encampment.  
Ser Barristan couldn’t tear his eyes from Rhaegar’s son until he noticed Loras and Brienne whisper to each other from the corner of his eye. He saw them look at him and arranged it so he could walk beside them.

“Is that Ser Arthur, The Sword of the Morning?” Lady Brienne asked with reverence in her voice.

“Yes it is. Remember the vow you gave Benjen Stark.” He reminded her in a stern voice.

“You knew all this time he was alive? You knew we would meet them?” The young Tyrell’s behaviour displayed an equal amount of hero worship.

“No to the first and yes to your second question.” He frowned. “But I am serious, either you keep to your vows or you will become our hostages.”

“Do not question my honour!” Lady Brienne bristled.

“As if I would want to harm the Sword of the Morning!” Loras exclaimed. “Seven Hells, I’ll be begging him for a sparring session until he complies.” He looked at Ser Arthur a calculating expression in his eyes. “Does that mean that Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent survived as well? I grew up on stories of them.”

“Just stick to your vows.” Ser Barristan stressed once more, his eyes carefully watching the Prince who walked a few paces before him. His frown was even more pronounced now. 

In the meantime, Jon after checking his uncle was in good health immediately questioned him about the reason for the delay. Apparently King Robert had received a raven from Winterfell and had been convinced to release Loras Tyrell into the custody of House Stark. Since Benjen was there, the King had asked him to escort Loras personally instead of waiting for Lord Stark to send someone to pick him up. King Robert was glad to get rid of the young Tyrell and be done with this potentially disastrous business. Benjen Stark had set out almost two days later as originally planned.

“You were already travelling. I couldn’t get a message to you,” he apologised.

“You brought Loras Tyrell and someone from Tarth? What the Hells, Uncle!  The dragons are with us!” Jon whispered fiercely.

“I didn’t have a choice, Jon. I was ordered by the King. Initially I was just bringing Ser Barristan and his squire and then suddenly all of my planning was shot to hell. The squire switched mentors preferring to stay at court and the King ordered me to take these two along.”

“What will we do now?” Jon asked.

“I made them vow on their honour not to reveal anything they would discover during this trip. I threatened to make them hostages in the North instead of guests if they broke their oath. They promised solemnly not to send ravens or messages without our supervision. What else could I do?” Benjen whispered back.

“Take away their weapons. Guard them until they’re far enough north.” Jon answered. “I will discuss this with Ser Gerold.”

‘I’m sorry Jon. I really saw no other way. If you want, we can travel ahead. I need to stop at Riverrun anyway. I’ll be sorry to miss your company though. It has been too long.”

“Let’s talk with Ser Gerold and see how we can keep them separated from the dragons.” Jon relented not wanting to miss his uncle’s company either.

Wanting a break from this awkward situation, he turned his head to look behind him and smiled at Ser Barristan. The knight took that as an invitation and quickened his step so he could join the Prince and his uncle. Benjen Stark acknowledged his presence with a short nod.

“Ser Barristan, it is an honour to meet you Ser. I’ve heard many stories about you from my three protectors. I have been looking forward to meet you.” Jon said respectfully.

Barristan was catapulted back into time. That voice! If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was walking next to his dear departed friend Prince Rhaegar. He made an effort to formulate a response before his emotions got the better of him.

“It is an honour to meet you as well, my Prince”, he said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t know of your existence earlier. I’m ever so grateful that you have been kept safe all these years. It seems my brothers did right by you. “

“They certainly did. I owe them a lot. They have been loyal mentors, protectors and friends. I’m sorry you were stuck in King’s Landing all these years. I was told you were very close to my father? Perhaps we can talk about him in private sometime during this journey? There are also a few things I would like to show you.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you all I remember of your father. He was a very dear friend of mine. Perhaps you will tell me of your youth as well?” Ser Barristan tried to capitalise on this welcoming mood of his Prince.

“We’ll find the time,” Jon promised. Then he spoke up so his words were for both men. “Uncle Benjen, we’re almost there. The encampment will be visible when we take a right turn here.”

 

***

 

Brienne watched with amazement how Ser Barristan got a warm welcome from Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold. Loras Tyrell had guessed right. The three famous knights were alive and right in front of her.  
She also saw an older man greet Benjen Stark warmly. The man frowned however when he looked at her and Loras Tyrell.  She also noticed Jon Celtigar leaving them without a word, taking his wolf with him. Brienne saw them disappear inside a tent.

Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne waited awkwardly until someone would introduce them.

It was Jon Celtigar who reappeared and joined them, bringing three other youths along.

My Lord Tyrell, my lady Brienne, may I present to you my friends? Lord Tyrell, I think you are already acquainted with Samwell Tarly, son of Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill? “  
  
Loras Tyrell and Sam Tarly stumbled an uncomfortable greeting. Introductions continued and an uneasy conversation ensued.

Jon Celtigar kept his eyes on her the entire time and as soon as there was a small pause in the conversation he sent his friends away with the request to show Loras Tyrell the encampment. Brienne decided not to react and waited for his next move.

“Lady Brienne”, Jon tried to break the ice, “Am I right that you are a trained warrior?”

“I was a sworn sword to Prince Renly Baratheon”, she answered her face darkening.

“I’m sorry for what happened to the Prince,” Jon replied. “Why did you come here though?”

“After Prince Baratheon’s arrest, people at court either ignored or insulted me. It was rather unpleasant. When Loras Tyrell was released in custody of the Warden of the North, I offered to accompany him. I felt somewhat responsible since they were arrested on my watch not to mention that I was glad to leave the city behind me.”

“What are your plans now?”

“See Loras Tyrell safe to Winterfell. After that, I do not know yet. A lot will depend on what will happen to Prince Renly.”

“Did Benjen Stark speak to you about our group?”

“He made us vow not to tell anyone any detail of what we might see or hear. We swore on our honour, several times I might say.” Lady Brienne was getting tired of justifying herself. “I suppose that is what you are referring to? I hope you will not doubt my honour as well! I solemnly swear that I will not tell anyone that the three most famous Kingsguards whose disappearance is one of the most speculated about mysteries in the realm, are travelling across Westeros for some unknown reason.” She sneered at him.

“Nor anything else you see or hear,” Jon warned unperturbed by her indignation. “Try not to act so offended. The only reason we have been able to keep their presence in Westeros a secret has been because we take every precaution and distrust strangers who appear uninvited. If you want our trust, gain it.“

Lady Brienne immediately noticed the implication that there was still something of significance to be discovered but decided to ignore this for now. She just remarked “Why is it still a secret? The realm still worships these men.”

“Not King Robert. He would probably behead them. He still thinks of them as Targaryen loyalists,” Jon retorted. “Keep your vow, behave as promised and don’t poke around! If you do not adhere to these restrictions a guard will be assigned to you day and night.” He warned her once more.

Ser Gerold had drawn nearer to his Prince and heard the last of their conversation. “My lady, if you would please hand over your weapons for the time being. You will get them back in pristine condition, I assure you.”

Lady Brienne looked exasperated but had no choice and complied for the time being.

Jon tried to defuse the situation and asked her about her time in King’s Landing, of her impression of the royal court and the nobles there. He explained his curiosity by telling her he had never set foot in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.

Lady Brienne started talking, stiffly at first but encouraged by his insightful questions she slowly warmed up to the topic and to her interlocutor. She was rather elaborate when she described Ser Jaime Lannister.  
“He is handsome and has incredible fighting skills but he is arrogant, a snob and I cannot respect a vow breaker.” She ended her description in a passionate voice.

“Did you meet his brother, the imp? I have heard it mentioned that he is quite the political mind.” Jon asked.

“I did not have the pleasure to speak to him. I only observed him from a distance, my Lord.”

Ser Gerold intervened now. According to him the discussion had served its purpose. “My lady, if you will follow me, I will help you get settled in. I am sure you must be hungry.”

Lady Brienne followed the knight who assisted her with securing the horses in the temporary enclosure. He also showed her a tent where she could leave her belongings. Then she freshened herself up a bit and joined the others who were gathered around several fires. She gratefully accepted the food she was offered. She would keep her eyes and ears open. This already proved to be an enlightening journey.

 

***

 

Sandor, Edric, Gendry and Sam worked out a schedule to divert their guests and keep an eye on them during Jon’s visits with his dragons. The second night Jon brought Benjen Stark and Ser Barristan along with him. It was a clear night and the moon and stars provided enough light for a pleasant stroll. Jon used the opportunity to give Ser Barristan a brief summary of his life so far. Then he showed him Blackfyre.

The knight touched the blade reverently. “If only your father could see you now. He spent his life researching dragons, magic and prophecies. And here you are, not yet counting seventeen namedays and already you are in possession of a long lost Valyrian sword and dragons? I can hardly believe it.”

“Well, if you look to your right, your eyes might convince you to believe me.” Jon watched Ser Barristan closely. The man froze. Two large dragons lay twenty feet away. Ser Barristan saw the green dragon open his eyes and lift his head a bit. He felt nervous. He was being measured up by a large dragon. “Is it safe to be so close to them? Aren’t they dangerous?”

“It is the same as with Ghost I suppose. If you threaten me, or if I order them to kill you, your life is forfeit. There would be nothing you could do to defend yourself.”

Ser Barristan saw that Jon was deadly serious. The Prince had not finished his explanation.  
“I however am not in any danger at all. They are completely loyal to me. They think of me as their parent. I helped them hatch and I cared for them from their very first day. I would do anything to protect them. If I knew you were planning to harm them, I would not hesitate to kill you.”

“Stay here,” he ordered Ser Barristan. I’m going over there to join them and rest a bit.”

Jon went over to Rhaegal and scratched his scales below his eye. “Had a nice day?” The dragon blew some smoke. “Well mine was stressful.” He went over to Viserion who had deigned to open a lazy eye when he heard his human talk to his brother. Jon petted him as well. Viserion allowed this for a short while but then moved his head away and closed his eyes resuming his nap. Jon settled himself into his now familiar position against Rhaegal’s flank, closed his eyes and felt his mind relax. He entered Rhaegal’s mind and they shared each other’s memories of this day.

Benjen Stark watched the scene with rapt attention. “They have gotten so big and Jon treats them no different than if they were large cats. It is amazing isn’t it?”

Ser Barristan just nodded his head and watched Prince Aegon slumber between two large dragons. “How do you cope with all this? How do you begin to protect a youth who sleeps between dragons?”

“You should ask your three brothers that. But do not forget that before he celebrated his twelfth nameday there were no dragons and no direwolf, he was just a kind, intelligent boy and a promising swordsman. Ser Arthur really enjoyed teaching him to wield his little training sword.  
When the dragons appeared they were not taller than a cat. Everyone had time to grow used to them though I admit we all keep our distance.” He smiled.

Ser Barristan stayed silent his eyes still fixed on the Targaryen Prince who appeared to be sleeping now.  
  
Benjen Stark told him softly, “Besides you do not know the half of it. Jon is not simply a Targaryen. He is a Stark as well. Apparently the magic in his blood from both bloodlines gives him a unique ability. But that is Jon’s story to tell. If you are interested, just ask him how he communicates with his pets.”

Ser Barristan considered their current predicament, his eyes still on the youth amidst his dragons. “Are we going to sleep out here as well?”

“Since I see no other Kingsguard here, I assume you were given guard duty tonight.” Stark said drily. Don’t worry, I packed accordingly and will keep you company” 

Ser Barristan and Stark had set up the primitive tent and were now seated around the fire. Barristan saw Ghost lying next to Stark. The wolf studied him as if trying to determine whether he was friend or enemy. Barristan offered him a hesitant smile and addressed Benjen Stark.  
“Is there any use to our presence here? His dragons and direwolf can kill anyone in an instant should they have nefarious intentions. He doesn’t seem to need our protection.”

“I think you mistake the role Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell have assumed all these years. You and I have accompanied Jon here just to know where he is and to guide him in his actions. In King’s Landing King Robert has a small council, a Maester and every adviser he needs. For Baratheon his White Cloaks are just guards to the royal family, nothing more, nothing less. Do not mistake my meaning, it is a vital and honourable task.” He quickly added that last bit sensing Ser Barristan stiffen.

“Your three erstwhile brothers are the best guards Jon could have had, but they are more than that. They are his mentors. They are a vital part of his small council. He considers them friends. For a long time when he was younger, they acted as substitute parents to him. My brother, Lord Reed and I for the most part tried very hard to be there for him when he grew up, but in the end the only three who kept him company consistently throughout these years were them.” Benjen Stark explained as best as he could.

Barristan’s eyes hadn’t wavered from the Prince during Benjen Stark’s discourse. “Now I am even more envious. The last sixteen years were frustrating as hell already, seeing this however …,” his voice trailed off.

“Well, it wasn’t always as idyllic as this.” Benjen smiled. “These last few years Jon has butted heads with them several times. And I am not even speaking of all the times we were worried sick about one thing or another. But I cannot lie. It has been a most rewarding sixteen years. If ever a boy showed the potential to become a benevolent and competent ruler, it is him. And I do not say that just because he is my blood.”

“He named his dragon Rhaegal?” Barristan asked.

“You should ask Jon how that came about.” Stark replied, once more raising Barristan’s curiosity. Viserion is the name of the other one. Did Jon tell you how he met Princess Daenerys?”

Barristan shook his head. He really couldn’t wait to have another lengthy conversation with his Prince. “Will he stay out here like that all night?”

“I don’t know. Ser Gerold informed me that most times he wakes up after a bit and returns to the camp to avoid causing too much suspicion. Only his closest entourage know the dragons exist and are his. Others may suspect there are dragons. Some of the smallfolk at the Driftmark surely suspect as well but you will quickly notice that my nephew has a way with people. I do not think there is a single one here or at the Driftmark for that matter that would willingly harm the boy.”

“Just like Prince Rhaegar.” Barristan remarked in a nostalgic mood. “You probably do not agree but I’ve lived with the Crown Prince. He was loved by the smallfolk. He had a way with people as well. He was intelligent but kind.”

“Don’t tell me,” Stark muttered, “Tell Jon.”

“As soon as I have the chance I will, trust me.”

Both men settled back, a relaxed atmosphere had developed between them. Their mutual believe in the Targaryen Prince cemented their newly formed bond. Two pair of eyes watched over the Prince who should be King.

 

***

 

The third day after Benjen Stark had joined Jon’s travelling party, he finally found an opportune moment to do some very necessary catching up with his nephew. Due to circumstances they had stopped and put up camp rather early that day. One of the carts had broken down and the necessary repairs would take some time. Gendry had volunteered his skills to fix the axle and had commandeered a few men.

Benjen and Jon wandered off, Ghost trailing behind them and found a secluded spot where they could sit and talk. Sandor and Ser Oswell followed having guard duty. At Jon’s request the latter took up strategic positions well in sight but not close enough to overhear his conversation if they talked quietly. They would also keep other wanderers at bay. Ghost clearly bored left them to hunt some game.

Benjen looked his nephew over from head to toe. “I know I always say this but you have really grown this time Jon. It seems I left a boy behind the last time and came back to find a man instead.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jon gently nudged his uncle’s shoulder. “You look older as well,” he teased.

His uncle grinned. “Come let’s sit down. That tree over there is big enough to support both our backs. My aging bones are getting lazy.”

They installed themselves and enjoyed the sounds of the woods. Leaves rustled in the winds, birds chirped and they also heard the occasional screech probably due to Ghost scaring some unsuspecting animals.

Benjen was the first to break their contemplation. “The dragons seem to be doing great. You can control them easily? It doesn’t take its toll on you?”

“Always the worried parent,” Jon reacted affectionately. “But to answer your question, it is easy. It seems so natural. When I go to them at night, their physical presence clears my mind. I feel safe, relaxed. It is difficult to explain what I experience exactly. It is as if our minds complete each other and we can only be totally at ease when we are together. Try to imagine something like that but more. It is intense, fulfilling. I cannot put it into words any better. I’m sorry.”

“It is okay. I get the gist of it. So,no downsides?” Benjen felt Jon was telling only one side of it.

“It doesn’t take a toll physically. I have no headaches or anything. It is the responsibility of it all you know. I am the only one who can wield the two most dangerous weapons in the realm. If I start to think about the possible consequences of my decisions, my mistakes, I start to doubt everything.”

He lowered his voice even more. “They have gotten so powerful, Uncle. They are so dangerous. You have no idea what they are capable of. I felt their anger when they attacked the pirate ship. It felt as if my entire body was on fire.”

“Ser Arthur filled me in. He said the dragons acted on your feelings, not your orders. He said it was a valuable lesson and will help you in future.” Benjen tried to ease the guilt that was obviously still bothering the young man.

“Did he tell you about Yara Greyjoy as well?”

“He told me you interrogated her then let her go. Was it wise to put yourself forward like that?”

“Uncle Benjen please, this journey is about me becoming a man, why do you persist to treat me as a child? I have commanded a crew, made decisions. I am learning to live with the consequences of my actions. Not all of it has been easy. But isn’t that exactly the point?”

Jon leaned his head against the tree and looked up at the sky. Benjen saw his nephew relax before his eyes and waited for the boy to come back to him. He sensed Jon would continue once he was ready.

Jon broke the soothing connection to his dragons and focused his mind back on the discussion at hand.  
“What I meant to ask before about Yara Greyjoy was: did Ser Arthur tell you that she claims she has turned away from the ‘Old Ways’ of raiding, stealing and killing and wants her people to make a living by trading and farming? She told us she has gathered a following and would like to depose her father.  
I cannot help but think she could play a substantial role in our solution for the Iron Islands. Should we decide to help her overthrow her father, we could potentially gain two things. We could install a ruler over the Iron Islands who would owe us and she would help us diminish the threat these raiders represent to our shores.”

“He told me she was disrespectful and left without a thank you or a formal goodbye and jumped on the first ship she could find. I don’t know, Jon. I do not trust the Ironborn.”  
  
Then Benjen Stark brought up a different topic his tone full of rebuke once more.  
“Ser Arthur also described to me how you jumped straight into the fray when the pirates attacked and how he got wounded.”  
  
When Jon stayed silent, he added. “Grown men can get a rebuke as wel, Nephew. It doesn’t mean I think of you as a child all the time. I just worry about your safety. We’ve flown under the radar until now but if you continue to act as you have done these last few sennights…”

“And you bringing a Tyrell and a lady warrior helps matters?” Jon interrupted him.

Benjen sighed. “I get your point. Let’s change the subject for now shall we. I want to enjoy your company for the last few days that we have together.”

“You’re still planning to visit Riverrun?” Jon was glad his uncle had changed the subject. This was more neutral territory.

“Yes, I had several scrolls from Winterfell and one from the Blackfish, you know of him don’t you? He is the brother of the current lord Paramount of the Riverlands, a good uncle of your Uncle Ned. There is trouble brewing in the Riverlands. The Freys are getting bolder. I’m glad you are travelling by ship to the North and will not need to cross The Twins.”

“You wrote they refused to pay their taxes to the Night’s Watch.”

“Not only that, they are blatantly challenging their Lord Paramount by not answering scrolls and not paying taxes to their overlords either. What’s more, the small party the Tullys sent out to negotiate has not returned.”

“Isn’t that out of character for House Frey? I learned they always delay choosing sides in conflicts, only arriving on the scene when bloodshed is over or when they are sure they are joining the winning side. This is almost a declaration of independence, an active opening of hostilities on their part.”

“We suspect they are being manipulated and have someone backing them . Perhaps it is a play from the Lannisters to gain more power?”

“Walder Frey would have to gain something substantial from that to risk so much. Could they have promised House Frey the position of ruling house of the Riverlands? Who would be so stupid to trust the Freys not to turn their cloak and betray them the moment things get tricky?” Jon wondered.

“As far as I can see, the Lannisters or whoever are stirring up trouble, are not running any risks. They only stand to gain. If nothing comes of it, they haven’t lost anything to begin with.”

“Has Lord Reed seen something that can help us make sense of this matter?”

“Not really, he is just one man you know. He is focusing on your safety and possible spies first and foremost. You are not travelling through the Twins. Besides his green dreams have a mind of their own as he always reminds us when we pry too much. I need to talk to the Tullys myself.”

“Will you catch up with us later then, Uncle?”

“Not immediately, I will head for Winterfell next and take Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth with me. I am also keen to hear my brother explain in person why he is so worried about House Bolton. After that, if you are still in the North, I will gladly come to your side again.”

“Do you mean the Boltons are still complaining about the Wildling raids south of the Wall? I thought the Night’s Watch was stopping most of them?” Jon preferred to think of the North as a stable Kingdom that his Uncle Ned had absolute power over.

“My brother suspects House Bolton is sowing discord by trying to convince the Umbers and Karstarks that the Warden of the North is not handling their safety competently and at the same time they imply House Bolton could do better. Ned can handle that. It is their last request that gets his hackles up.” Benjen saw Jon’s eyes narrow.

“Tell me,” his nephew encouraged.

“They have all but demanded Sansa’s betrothal to Domeric Bolton. The tone of the message implies they consider it their due as second house in the North and a refusal would be considered a break of trust.”

“Surely all Northern Lords would want a marriage alliance with House Stark. I reckon Uncle Ned will have received betrothal proposals from the entire realm for Sansa by now. Robb writes his sister is promising to become a real beauty and that she already is all a lady should be at her tender age.”

“It is the tone of the ‘request’ that angers your uncle. You do realise that should my brother agree to the marriage, the next Bolton heir would have Stark blood. That would strengthen the position of a possible hostile house. The Boltons have poorly disguised their ambition for centuries. It could increase their chances to rally the northern houses to their side if they found a valid reason to discredit House Stark. It could mean the end of our dominance in the North.”

“Like Robert Baratheon was crowned after the Rebellion because he had a Targaryen forefather?”

“Kind of. But Jon, trouble in the North would harm your cause as well. I think it is really necessary I travel both to Riverrun and Winterfell and do so in haste. I will leave you once we reach the spot where I need to turn west to Riverrun and you will continue north to Seagard. Do I take Ser Barristan with me?”

“Why would you? I had thought to send him to Princess Daenerys. He is a Kingsguard. She is royal family. But I wanted to let Ser Gerold have the final say in this matter seeing he is my Lord Commander and if Ser Barristan swears his sword to our cause, he would report to Ser Gerold once more.”

“Fair point. I just would like to have a loyal man help me care for my guests.”

“Let’s talk with Ser Gerold tomorrow and see if something else can be arranged to ease your journey. Besides I think Loras will not cause you any trouble. It is a pity he cannot stay with us. He gets along fine with the four of us, with Edric especially. I guess he is obliged to come with you and by taking him, you remove a person we need to hide the dragons from”.

“Not to mention King Robert will want to hear the report of his arrival at Winterfell sooner rather than later.” Benjen Stark added

“On the subject of King Robert, how was your visit to King’s Landing? Did you see Prince Oberyn? Did you talk to Renly Baratheon? How is Jon Arryn doing?”

“Not tired yet of hearing me talk are you?” Benjen tried to get him to lower his guard. He still needed to address the real reason he had been desperate to talk to his nephew in private. He indulged him and started talking.

“King’s Landing was in chaos. The arrest of the King’s youngest brother had just happened a few days before I got there. I only saw the King on the day I had planned to leave. It was a short audience where I got my orders and was instantly dismissed. I hardly managed a greeting and before I knew it my journey got delayed by two days that apparently were needed to make the arrangements for the conditional release of the Tyrell boy.

Prince Oberyn was not at court of course. When I met up with him at our prearranged spot, he was just really smug and I heard a probably rather exaggerated version of his visit to Prince Renly’s nameday celebration and its aftermath.  My talk to Varys was more enlightening. I learned the King had hardly been seen at court and not deigned to show up at the small council meetings since his brother’s arrest. Opinions about the Tyrell boy were divided and speculations about his fate were reaching monstrous proportions. With Jon Arryn constrained to his bed chambers only the more important matters were put before the small council which brief meetings take place in the Hand’s bed chambers during his illness.  
  
Varys arranged for me to meet Lord Arryn. The man looked very ill and deeply troubled. He worries about the succession believing our suspicions about the royal children to be correct. He urged me to convince Ned to come to the capital as soon as possible. He fears his health will not permit him to govern the Kingdoms much longer and he doesn’t want to give Littlefinger, the Lannisters, the Tyrells or anyone else for that matter the opportunity to increase their influence on the King. He is afraid Stannis will not step up and protect his brother’s interests sufficiently. He also fears for the safety of his wife and young son. He would like to see them firmly in Eddard Stark’s care before he dies.”

Benjen coughed to clear his throat. His voice was getting hoarse from all this talking.  “Ser Barristan had finally gotten the much coveted release from his vows and was eager to leave with us. He didn’t want to give others the opportunity to change the King’s mind. Varys had warned him Littlefinger and the Lannisters had counselled against it and were still trying to sabotage his departure. It had taken Varys and Lord Arryn days to persuade the King to adhere to the knight’s request and grant him safe passage to wherever he wanted to go next.  
  
Benjen looked sideways and noticed Jon was soaking in every word.  
“Now it is your turn to open up boy. Are you prepared to tell me the real reason for this trip yet?”

Jon was caught off guard. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you know very well what I mean. Why this destination? Why traipse across Westeros and visit the western shores if you just want to make a sea trip? Why venture so far north? If you only want to meet Robb you could sail to White Harbour instead. That harbour is closer to Winterfell than the Stony Shore and lies on the same side of Westeros as the Driftmark. What are you not telling us?” Benjen had been troubled ever since hearing the exact itinerary of Jon’s so called rite of passage.

“I have given my reasons. I wanted to test the dragons in a real battle.” He sighed and started again. “Actually, I really want to face the Ironborn if you want to truth of it. For years I have heard nothing but complaints about their raids, many of them taking place along the Stony Shore. You know I hate their way of life and I hate Theon. What better enemy to test the battle readiness of my dragons against? At the same time I show I can help the North which will help to persuade the northern Lords I am on their side. If I had to choose to conquer a Kingdom by force, it would be the Iron Islands without a doubt.” Jon wanted to say more but hesitated.

“You could never pull that off without revealing yourself, you do realise that, don’t you? And that would not only put yourself in danger, but everyone who ever helped you. If King Robert calls his banners and we are not ready yet, we will have a bloody war on our hands! Gods Jon, think this through!”

“As if King Robert cares about the Iron Islands. What good are my dragons if I let the people of the North get attacked by Ironborn who steal everything they have, kill, not to mention kidnap and rape innocent women and girls? How can I rest at night knowing I could stop so much suffering easily by a single nightly attack? My dragons can be in and out in a flash leaving the enemy’s ships burning so they will be too damaged to reach the shore. You should have seen them destroy the pirate ship, Uncle. And they grow bigger and more powerful each day, I can feel it. Rhaegal even suggests I try to fly with him, not only by sharing his mind but by sitting on his back!”

Benjen studied Jon for a while. The arguments sounded true but Benjen was certain Jon understood that what they were trying to accomplish would affect the lives of the smallfolk in all of Westeros and not just a few families living on the northern shores. It had come up more than once in their strategy meetings.  
“That’s not all. There’s more Jon. Let’s hear it.” Benjen insisted.

“Well, if you really want to know it all, I’m worried about the reports you and Uncle Aemon have given me concerning the Wall. If I could fly a dragon out there, either in warg mode or ride Rhaegal myself, I could scout. I know I can cover a lot of ground without taking too much risk. I can make a difference, Uncle,” he pleaded.

Benjen frowned and looked at Jon, his eyes full of concern. “What if I forbid you? What if I beg you not to do something that stupid? Do you even understand what you are talking about? Do you realise how cold it is beyond the Wall? A man could freeze to dead in just a few moments if he is not careful. It will be even colder high up in the air. That is if you could ride a dragon safely. What if your dragons suffer from the cold as well? The Lands of Always Winter are not the right location for a test ride, Jon!”

“I’m no fool, Uncle. It will not literally be my first flight. And if I do venture beyond the Wall, we will fly a bit further each time and evaluate how the cold affects us. I can feel everything my dragons feel when I let them in, Uncle Benjen. I shall sense it the moment they suffer too much and will immediately order them to turn back. Besides they run so hot all the time, if anyone can stand the cold, it will be them.” He saw Jon close his eyes and look up to the sky once more.

“They are dancing around each other above the clouds now. I can feel their playfulness.” Jon smiled while trying to prove his point.

“Just promise me you will be smart and think before you act. Swear to me that before you just fly off, you will always consult Ser Gerold and or Davos if I am not there.” He looked at Jon resolved not to drop the subject before extracting a solemn promise from his nephew.

Jon sighed. “I promise to do so when the circumstances allow it,” he hedged. “If it is a matter of life and death and there is no time, I do not consider myself bound by this pledge to seek advice first. I will give you my word though to think things through and to try to keep a level head. I will not act if I feel I cannot control the dragons because my emotions run too high.”

Benjen assumed this was the best he would get for now and let the subject drop. It was time for a lighter one. He did not want to end this conversation with his dearest nephew on a discord. He nudged Jon’s shoulder. “About becoming a man your journey, is it? Ser Gerold told me about the girls. Is that true Jon? Girls? Two?”

He smiled when he saw the boy blush. “What do you want to tell me about that, my dear grown up nephew?”

 

***

Two sennights later, Jon and his following caught their first glimpses of the ships that were ready and waiting for them at Seagard. Three beautiful vessels chosen from the fleet the houses of the Riverlands had commissioned for their cause. They were fully staffed and looked in pristine condition. This was it. Jon felt elated but apprehensive at the same time. He spurred his horse onward, eager to start his next adventure.  
  
  


 

**Interlude 10: A troubled little lion**

 

Jaime tried not to look bored. He had been standing in the exact same spot the entire morning. The King had not left his chambers as usual. And to think that as a youth, he had always envied the shiny knights of the Kingsguard, knights respected throughout the realm. Some had even songs sung about them. He had been so happy to accept the position granted by King Arys and had ignored his father’s wrath and the real reason behind his sire’s disappointment.

However, nothing had prepared him for the reality of the position. He could count the times he had needed to draw his sword due to a real threat on one hand. And the one time he did save the lives of thousands, he got stuck with the title of Kingslayer. Even now, more than sixteen years later, he still had to deal almost daily with the disdain and derision of the people he had saved single handedly. Granted he could have handled that situation better. He had been so green then and had been overwhelmed by the chaotic entrance of the victors. Men, who boasted loudly about having been victorious in several battles and claimed to have fought heroically at the front lines whereas he had sat in a castle, idle, until he decided to stab his own King to death.

Years later Jaime had been able to think back on the events of that fateful day with logic instead of emotion. He concluded he had been in shock. Back then, he had hardly noticed his legs giving way and how he had slumped upon that damned throne. He still remembered Eddard Stark’s disdainful eyes and how he had not been able to utter a word in his own defence. After that his world had lost its meaning. He had kept silent and had seen his dear twin marry a man who called out another woman’s name in their marriage bed and broke his marital vows within the first sennight following the wedding ceremony. It had been so easy for her to seduce him in his depressed mood. She had made him disregard the fact that what they did was not only adultery but the worst form of incest. He had been a lost youth who craved love and reassurance. She had offered him all that. Before he knew it, he was in to deep and could not bear to stop their shameful affair.

Such was his life now, standing in the same spot for large parts of the day, trying not to fall asleep. If hearing the Mad King rape his wife while not being allowed to neither move a muscle, nor let his face show his horror and shock when he had only counted sixteen namedays, guarding King Robert’s bedchamber had been harder still. Luckily he had not been asked to guard him the nights the King bedded his sister. The Lord Commander showed tact in that respect at least. Yet, that meant he was often on duty when the King entertained several loose women loudly and thoroughly. King Robert seemed to be able to combine being drunk and whoring the entire night better than any other man.

Luckily this watch was almost over. He could see Ser Meryn approach. Jaime didn’t linger long after greeting his brother of the Kingsguard. He almost ran to his chambers. But the much anticipated peace and quiet was not to be had. Tyrion was standing just outside his door patiently waiting until he showed up. He was aware he had evaded his little brother once too often. Besides Tyrion was right, some issues really needed to be addressed. He slowed his steps and allowed him the opportunity to start a conversation.

“Jaime, I really need to get Cersei to listen me. Can you not persuade her to talk to me for more than five seconds? The three of us should talk strategies. Our father who normally handles these things is not here. We have to step in.”

Jaime surprised his brother with his immediate cooperation.

A bit later the three of them sat closely together in Tyrion’s chambers. Jaime noticed Cersei was annoyed and would not start the conversation. Tyrion looked nervous and was clearly still debating how to begin.

“I take it this is not about speculating about father’s whereabouts again?” He opened the discussion by default.

“No,” Tyrion looked at his brother, grateful for the opening. “It is about dealing with the consequences of his continued absence. Father worked all these years to gain considerable influence and we are just sitting idle while it slips through our fingers.”

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Cersei bit back insulted. “I am still the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Of course you are, my dear sister”, Tyrion couldn’t hide the sarcasm. “You are the mother of the future Kings as well, at least for now. But can you tell me the King listens to you?”

“Do not speak in riddles brother.” Jaime jumped in before Cersei reacted even harsher.  
“To what do you refer exactly?”

“All right, I will be blunt about it. Did the King listen to our advice concerning Loras Tyrell? No, he is in the hands of the Starks, what is that all about? Will the King appoint a new Hand amidst our family? No, again the Starks are front runners even if they are not lobbying for it at all. Has the King agreed to adhere to your wishes for a Tyrell bride for Joffrey? No, again Sansa Stark has his preference and let’s pray every day that the members of House Stark stay as noble as their reputation. I can go on like this for some time you know.”

“I still haven’t heard anything insurmountable leave that annoying small mouth of yours, dwarf.” Cersei sneered.

“I was saving the best – or should I say the worst – for last. I am sure you heard the vague rumours about your children’s questionable legitimacy that have started to circle these last few moons? No don’t answer that, I’m sure you have. Who else is behind the sudden murdering spree of Baratheon bastards? Of all the stupid things to do! Or do you deny you are behind it?“ He stopped to see the murderous expression of Cersei’s face change into a guilty one. He shook his head.

“Do you realise that by acting like this, you confirm you are scared of the rumours. You could as well just come out and confess your guilt. By the way, which blond Lannister have you let into your bed, my dear sister?”

He saw Cersei and Jaime exchange a frightened look and almost faltered. He kept it together and accused them. “Incest?! On top of all our troubles, you add incest to the mix? Do you realise what you have done? We will all loose our heads if this is discovered.”

“Whose side are you on, ‘brother’?” Cersei mocked the last word of her sentence.

“Oh now I am your brother, not just a dwarf who was put into your father’s arms by mistake?” Tyrion bit back.

“Stop it, the both of you!” Jaime exclaimed. “Tyrion is right. We need to discuss how to turn the situation back into our favour, see where we stand and find out who is still loyal to us, to the Crown.”

“I think you will be disappointed by the short list you will come up with. Whose idea was it anyway to release Ser Barristan from his vows? Another able man who can now be recruited by our enemies. He knows all about the defenses of the Red Keep.”

“Ser Barristan is loyal. There was no harm in letting him have an honourable retirement.” Jaime defended his former Lord Commander.

He was loyal to the Targaryens before he was loyal to King Robert. Ever think it was the only choice he had to come away with his life that day on the Trident? It was an oath given under duress. You do realise there are still Targaryens alive, don’t you? The Princess Daenerys is slowly reaching an age she could make a play for the throne if she found some support.”

“You should write children stories.” Cersei laughed openly at him now. “You would be good at it. So much fantasy!”

 

“Think about it Jaime. If not about Ser Barristan, then try and put a list together of our allies.” Tyrion now focused on persuading his brother of their current predicament.

“Have you noticed Prince Oberyn has been in King’s Landing several times lately but not once has he made an appearance at court?  Dorne is still hostile to the Crown and the Lannisters in particular. Stannis Baratheon is no great friend of King Robert. Let us hope your husband will revisit his stupid decision to refuse him his birthright. And let us not forget the debacle with Prince Renly.”  
  
He took a sip of wine and continued.  
“There is turmoil in the Riverlands, the Reach will become hostile if their daughter will not become betrothed to Joffrey soon. The Vale will keep to itself if Lord Arryn dies and as father always says ‘never trust the Ironborn’. That leaves the North with the Starks. I know they have their honourable reputation and have been loyal, but the King and Eddard Stark are not as close as the King likes to boast and I have noticed too many small coincidences. If I had to name the house in the Seven Kingdoms that has gained the most influence and power these last few years it is them. If ever they turned on us, we would have a fight on our hands and hardly any allies to speak of that will support us against that noble House.”

“Power, that dreary northern wasteland, are you sure you are not just dreaming stuff at night and waking up thinking it really happened? Have you forgotten the Lannister armies? We still have the largest and best equipped force of the Seven Kingdom,” Cersei argued clearly not taking his words to heart.

“For now we have although we are one really skilled commander short,” Tyrion agreed to her last statement. “But we do not have enough men to fight a combined force of several kingdoms. As I said, we need to do something to keep the influence and power father has amassed so skilfully.”

“And as far as the North is concerned, if you would try to do something else except buying new dresses, and spending the Crown’s money redecorating, you could have noticed things yourself. They have increased trade, not only between the North and the Seven Kingdoms but also with Essos. They have more than doubled their glass gardens, which makes them less vulnerable to a boycott or an attack. I even suspect they are building a small fleet at White Harbour. Father always warned us never to underestimate the Northerners. They do not have the largest population but they are made of stern stuff up there and can raise an army that contains brave and fierce warriors. It would be wise to be wary of them.”

“Lord Stark would never attack Robert Baratheon.” Jaime retorted. ”Besides if they turned on us as you say, they would just declare independence. They would not fight us. They would close up the North and be done with it.”

“What if you took the honourable Eddard out of the equation? Or worse, what if something happened to King Robert? Their loyalty is to Robert Baratheon, not to Joffrey who looks more Lannister … Seven Hells, they could use the rumours to take the throne themselves!”

“Now you are really making up bedtime stories, Tyrion. What the hell!” Cersei exclaimed not realising she had addressed him by his first name for what might well be the first time in her adult life.

“Jaime,” Tyrion gave up on his sister and tried to get Jaime on board. “Do not tell me you have not already thought about some of this. I do not believe you to be so guileless as to think Littlefinger and Varys will side with us the moment we appear weakened. The Tyrells will be among the first to jump ship and the Baratheons, do you not realise that if Robert dies, they could benefit from declaring your children illegitimate? Stannis will declare himself King by lack of trueborn issue of his brother.”

“I admit there is some truth in what you say. We need to stick together and come up with solutions. We could ask uncle Kevan for advice. Do you really think we cannot trust Varys and let him help us gather intelligence? What about Grand Maester Pycelle?”

“Not a bad idea to involve uncle Kevan. Let’s wait to ask for outside help until we hear what he has to say.” Tyrion felt a small spark of hope. Jaime took him serious and had even offered a useful suggestion.

“Are we done?” Cersei interrupted this brotherly bonding.

Tyrion hesitated. “You really think you can influence the King?” he asked his sister after some deliberation.

“Just ask what you want her to do, Tyrion.” Jaime’s quick retort once more prevented Cersei from giving a harsh reply.

“She could petition the King that House Lannister has done so much for the Seven Kingdoms but has no voice on the small council now that Father has been delayed on his journey and suggest that I fill his seat until he returns.” Tyrion knew she would not be happy with this suggestion and braced himself.

“So this has been about you grasping for power all along, hasn’t it? Just admit it. You are you finally showing your true colours.” she sneered.

“Actually, that is not a bad idea.” Jaime’s blatant support for his younger brother surprised both his siblings. “You are no fool Cersei. You realise knowledge is power. We need to know what the council and the King are up to if we want to keep our influence. As far as I am concerned you talk your own way in there, but I think we have more of a chance to succeed if you propose Tyrion. You may not like it but he is considered a competent political adviser. This could work.”

“Fine”, she barely got the word out between her teeth. “I see what I can do. Perhaps if you are so intelligent, you can work on Varys to back this suggestion with the King?”

“Not a bad idea either, sister. Thank you.” Tyrion said trying to look serious and sincere. Better not let her read any sign of smugness from his face. He considered this a great personal victory.

“Are we done?” Cersei asked once more. Her bad mood and impatience were very obvious.

“For now.” Tyrion agreed and Cersei wasted no time dragging Jaime from the room.

Tyrion took his wine and emptied the cup. He immediately proceeded to refill it to the brim. That arduous meeting had left him thirsty. He sighed. Trouble was brewing. Even the excellent wine could not diminish his worries. He hadn’t shared all his concerns with his siblings. He wasn’t allowed to bring up the subject of his dwindling investigation into their father’s whereabouts anymore. He also hadn’t mentioned he was planning on hiring a sellsword to investigate the situation in the Riverlands. He had his eye on a certain Bronn, a guy he had met at the brothel a few nights ago. He knew this topic would be dismissed as insignificant by Jaime and Cersei. They surely would not let him spend money on it so he had stayed silent.

He certainly didn’t bring up their financial situation. Tyrion didn’t know what to make of the latest report from his overseer at Casterly Rock. Ever since the big collapse of a large section of the mines shortly after the Rebellion, the mining had not been as productive as before. Nevertheless their goldmines had still yielded enough to support their expenses. This last report mentioned that the cost of keeping the mines open almost exceeded the profit they made these days. He would ask Uncle Kevan to investigate the matter. They would have to keep that information within the family. House Lannister’s power had grown mostly because of two things, the reputation of Tywin Lannister and their unlimited financial resources. Jaime and Cersei really didn’t realise the danger they were in. Two fucking siblings and a dwarf were all that was left to keep House Lannister in power. If you looked at it like that, did they even stand a chance?

Tyrion didn’t stop drinking until neither the pitcher nor his cup had a single drop of the sweet Arbor Gold left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Jon will reunite with some family members. The Ironborn attack the Stony Shore.  
> The interlude will reveal some more plotting in Kingslanding.


	11. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets family and rides his dragon.
> 
> Littlefinger is confident his enemies will go down. Prince Oberyn and Varys disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I let the characters do their thing and they acted slightly different than I originally intended. I hope you enjoy it all the same.
> 
> This story is still unbeta'd.

Jon watched the three ships navigate the most southern point of the Stony Shore. They were slowly approaching a modern docking place. The long awaited moment was finally there. This was the location Robb had promised to join him. It was even possible Robb stood on the beach this very moment watching their ships approach. He hoped Robb had gotten the message warning him of their delay. They were almost a moon behind the initial schedule.

Not everything had gone according to plan. Upon arrival at Seagard, they had intended to set out immediately and sail from Seagard across Ironman’s Bay to round the Cape of Eagles to Cape Kraken. After a few days there, they would travel on to the Stony Shore. They had opted to sail with three ships. Not only was it safer and did it give the crew an opportunity to get some experience under their belt, they would also carry glass panes to the North.

The first part of this route was rather close to Ironborn territory. Ser Gerold, Davos and Jon had visited the garrison commander of the fort at Seagard. The man had warned them that fishermen had spotted numerous ships with Kraken banners and had limited their activities to the waters close to their own shores.  
To assess the threat, it was decided that Jon would scout the waters between Seagard and Pyke. Since the sky was cloudless and bright, Jon had not been able to use the dragons for this reconnaissance. Jon had used a raven instead. Through the raven’s eyes he had seen what looked very much like a human migration. Close to a hundred vessels were navigating the waters around the Iron Islands. Most of them were sailing towards or between the small isles and only a few of them were leaving. Their guess was that Euron Greyjoy had seized power and was moving his entire fleet to Pyke. Jon surprised himself by hoping that Yara Greyjoy had made it out all right.  
They had decided to delay their voyage until things settled down a bit. To encounter one Kraken ship would have been a boon for Jon. To alert an entire fleet of Ironborn to their presence would have been sheer stupidity. It had taken almost three sennights before Ser Gerold considered it safe enough to board the ships and set off.

This did not mean they had been idle at Seagard. The garrison commander had given them leave to use their training yard and Ser Arthur had devised new training exercises. The four Kingsguards fought in formation against Jon and his three friends. The knights never used the same tactic twice and often changed weapons and armour. The boring training sessions were a thing of the past. The four boys also went on small hikes across the countryside and even played some engaging childhood games. Nights around the campfire exchanging tales further strengthened their friendship. On the last night before they continued their voyage, Edric and Gendry paid a visit to the local brothel. They tried to entice Sam and Jon to come along but to no avail. Jon opted to spend the night with his dragons and Ghost. Sam preferred to read a book by the campfire.

When they finally deemed it safe to leave, there was hardly any wind. It had taken them longer to sail from Seagard to Cape Kraken than the voyage from the Driftmark to Essos. They had slowly but safely arrived at Cape Kraken without encountering the Ironborn. Jon had decided to shorten their visit there. The three ships had unloaded a small part of their cargo, mostly large panes of glass.  
Jon had inspected the ameliorations to the defences Lord Stark had ordered. In the past Cape Kraken had often suffered Ironborn raids, hence its name. Lately however these attacks had dwindled substantially. Jon had taken notes during his visits to the forts. He wanted to send a full report to his Uncle Ned. He had noticed several improvements that could be helpful at Castle Black as well.  
During their stay not a single Ironborn ship had been spotted. Soon enough they had continued their journey to the Stony Shore, the long awaited stop as far as Jon was concerned.

 

As often the case when he stood at the bow of the ship, Davos was at his side. As admiral of Jon’s fleet he closely checked the proceedings. Ghost sat quietly at Jon’s feet. Jon didn’t have to lower himself to pet his head. Ghost had grown to an impressive size. It was possible Greywind would be even bigger. Ghost had been the runt of the litter when the pups were found. Jon wondered whether Robb had changed much. The boy of twelve namedays would now be a young man a few days shy of his seventeenth nameday.

“I started to think we would never arrive. But here we are.” Jon said to Davos. “It is an impressive sight watching the ships prepare to dock though, isn’t it? As far as I can tell the Tullys have given us top quality vessels.”

Davos smiled. Jon had been restless these last few days. He had lost count of the number of times the boy had asked how far they still had to go and how soon they would arrive.  
“As an experienced sailor, I can only declare that I am honoured to be given such superior ships to command. The winds were finally with us on this last stretch, my Prince."< /p>

"Can I borrow your spyglass, please Davos?” Jon asked polite as always. He accepted the offered object and immediately started to scan the shoreline. “I can see a small group assembled at the landing pier but cannot determine if there is a direwolf among them.” Jon sounded a bit downcast. It was still rather early in the morning. Perhaps Robb would not be up yet. Gods forbid he could have been delayed at Winterfell.

“Will you let me have a try?” Davos held out his hand and reclaimed the spyglass. He studied the shore and remarked, “Give it a bit more time, we’ll be closer then. It could be Robb out there even if there is no direwolf insight. At this distance you might even mistake a horse for a wolf. Where are your dragons by the way?”

“They arrived last night shortly after dark. They found a secluded spot a bit inland and are currently resting.“

“It must be nice to be able to check in on them whenever you want. I would not like to have such an invasion of my privacy. Sometimes a man can enjoy some alone time in his cabin. Just imagine if someone could just enter your mind at any time and check what you were thinking or doing.” 

Jon flushed red and looked embarrassed.

“You have a filthy mind young man. I wasn’t referring to that, not consciously anyway.” Davos was quick to spell out. They both laughed and a comfortable silence settled between them. Davos used the spyglass again but stayed silent.

Edric appeared on deck. “How soon will we be able to have solid ground under our feet again? I would love to sit around an open fire and not feel everything move beneath my feet.”  
Ghost who hardly ever made a sound whined softly.  
“See Ghost agrees with me. How can a man know when he’s drunk if the ground moves when he is sober as well?” Edric finished making his point.

“He’d know if he counted his pints?” Jon teased. 

Davos chuckled. He handed Jon the spyglass again and left to find Ser Gerold to check if he had prepared everything to disembark.

“Can you recognise anyone yet?” Edric enquired. Jon’s nervous chatter these last few days had given him a good idea what his friend was searching for on the beach.

“Give me a chance to find the correct spot first.” Jon muttered but the smile on his face belied the tone of his words. 

“Several people are watching the ships approach. Still not close enough to see who they are, and no direwolf in sight." 

This time at the word direwolf, Ghost’s ears perked up. He stood up and nudged Jon.  
“Want me to look again Ghost. You know something?” Jon never disregarded the instincts of his pets. He adjusted the spyglass and focused on the beach once more.  
“I see a figure running towards the shore. It seems as if someone really wants to meet us. He still needs to cover some distance though. Ah there it is. You were right Ghost that must be Greywind.”

Ghost kept nudging Jon’s flank. “All right, all right, I’ll keep looking.”  
Jon tried to bring the running figures back into focus. The man and his pet had stopped and seemed to be waiting for some something or someone. Jon moved the spyglass so he could study the spot where he had first glimpsed the two figures once more.  
A second four legged creature entered his sight closely followed by another person if he was not mistaken. That person seemed smaller and didn’t run as fast. Well whoever they were, they still had ample time. It would take the ships a while before they moored and Jon could disembark.

“You’re right Ghost.” He petted his wolf affectionately. "There are two of them. You will be reunited with at least two of your siblings soon. I hope you won’t forget about me.” He softly murmured in his ear.

Ghost stayed glued to Jon’s side. His red eyes fixed on Jon’s face. Jon hugged Ghost and scratched behind his ears. _‘I know,’_ he communicated silently in his wolf mind, _‘we will always belong together, no matter how many siblings, family members or friends join us. You are a part of me.’_

Edric witnessed the adorable scene. It always amazed him how Ghost could snuggle up to Jon one moment only to turn into a terrifying predator the next when he perceived a possible threat to his pack member.

“What’s Robb Stark like?” he asked Jon. “Will he fit into our little group?”

“I’ll let you find out for yourself.” Jon said releasing his wolf. “I think it is time we got off this ship anyway. What do you say Edric, do you want to go get our stuff and make sure we’re the first ones to disembark?” He pocketed the spyglass.  
He didn’t have to call for Ghost to follow him. The wolf already led the way.

 

***

 

Jon had hardly taken two steps on solid ground when Arya jumped into his arms. 

“Arya?” he hugged her back. “You’ve grown so much!” He released her to embrace Robb who had also appeared at his side by now. “Thank the Gods, Robb. I’m so glad you made it here! Have you been here long?”

“That makes two of us.” Robb smiled and patted his back a few times. “We arrived yesterday.”

“Three of us!” Arya yelled as she grasped Jon’s arm not wanting to let go of him. “Oh look over there. Greywind and Nymeria are greeting Ghost!”

It was a rare spectacle for Jon. The three large animals were acting as if they were still young pups. They were tumbling on the ground, biting and licking each other affectionately. Soon Ghost had hardly any white spots left, his fur was covered in filth and sand. Jon watched them, feeling sad for Ghost. “You must be used to this sight. I didn’t realise Ghost missed out on so much.”

He turned his attention back to his cousins and studied Robb. They had reconnected instantly. Sam, Edric and Gendry were good friends but the feeling of belonging he had felt with Robb all these years ago had rekindled the first moment he saw him again. He felt an instant kinship to Robb once more. He imagined that this was probably what having a brother would feel like. Well perhaps not so strange that he had this bond with Robb. He was family after all. Gods! He so wanted to tell him that. He didn’t think he could wait another moment. He would tell Robb as soon as they could create an opportunity to talk in private. It was all he had thought about these last few days. But now with Arya here, it would not be easy. He still recalled her constant presence during those two sennights he had spent in Winterfell all those years ago. 

“You brought Arya along?” He looked at Robb the confusion apparent on his face. “You never mentioned anything in your messages.”

“Surprise!” Arya interjected smiling from ear to ear. She had yet to release Jon’s arm. 

Robb shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to. Father is mad as hell as it is. She just followed us secretly with Nymeria in tow. We only discovered it several days later.”

“Three days, I fooled them for three days!” Arya had yet to speak her first sentence at a normal volume.

Jon turned to her with a serious look on his face. He gently freed his arm, kneeled at her side and took her little hand in his. “Arya that was a stupid risk to take. Do you know how guilty I would have felt and how sad I would have been if something had happened to you?“ He tried to reason with the young girl. 

Arya started to sputter but Jon interrupted. “I know you have celebrated your tenth nameday but what could you have done if you encountered people who really meant to hurt you?”

“I would have set Nymeria on them!” 

Jon had gotten back up. “Even Nymeria cannot take on several grown men at once Arya. Our direwolf’s protection is not infinite. An arrow, a sword or even a dagger can hurt them. They are not invulnerable.” 

While Arya mulled this over Jon questioned Robb. “Why did Greywind not sense this and warn you of her presence immediately?” Jon saw Robb hesitate to speak, probably because of Arya’s presence.

“Arya, will you see to our direwolves and tell them to behave, please? They are scaring the people who still need to disembark.”

Arya hesitated then examined the both of them. She punched Robb’s arm. “You want to talk about grown up boys stuff like you do with Theon. Surely you don’t think I do not know you talk to him about girls and coupling all the time. But do not do this with Jon as well, please?”

“We will not talk about girls, I promise.” Robb tried to keep a serious expression.

“Well just watch me and see how formidable I am. One little girl will control the three large direwolves everyone is afraid of!” She pointed at the men keeping their distance from the three wolves who were still enjoying their reunion in a boisterous manner. 

“I can’t wait to see that.” Jon laughed. “What’s keeping you?”  
Arya was off in a flash.

Robb turned to Jon and resumed their conversation. “Not everyone has such a deep a bond with animals than you do Jon.”

“Yeah, but Greywind should have sensed Nymeria. Did he stay with you throughout the night? Didn’t he seem more agitated than normal, perk up his ears more often, nudge you to try to get you to move in a certain direction? They have many ways to warn you. Every time Ghost behaves like that I pay close attention. Our wolves have impeccable instincts. You should not ignore them.”

“I do not ignore them, at least not most of the time.” Robb admitted. “Now that you point it out, he did seem more agitated. The perking of the ears might have happened also. But leaving at night, he always does that. I told you about my wolf dreams didn’t I? I suspect he hunts most nights. So I did not think that strange.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss this some more. At least I hope so. Perhaps I can give you some pointers, you know ‘warging for beginners”, Jon suggested, his eyes still fixed on Arya’s antics with the direwolves. He switched his attention back to Robb.  
“I’m really glad to see you Robb! I can’t tell you how much I have looked forward to this reunion. I have so much to tell you. Really, you have no idea!” 

Don’t sweat it.” Robb teased affectionately.” I am starting to believe you.”

“I mean it, Robb.” Jon insisted. "I also want you to get to know my friends. You’ll fit right in. I hope you have kept up your sword training. We’re doing all kind of fight simulations. I bet you would like to attempt to fight off my excellent teachers with the four of us battling beside you.”

“That does sound intriguing. And about our talk, you do realise I stay up a bit later than Arya usually, don’t you?” He joked but his serious undertone relayed the message. “Finally ready to tell me what your plans are?”

At Jon’s questioning look his cousin explained. “Three ships and all because you wanted to see me? I am flattered. If I didn’t know you any better I would suspect you to have plans to raid our coastline. If I take father’s and Uncle Benjen’s interest in you into consideration, not to mention those knights you have guarding you at all times, well there must be some intriguing explanation for it all. I’ve been waiting for years Jon, ever since Greywater Watch.”

“I know,” was the quiet response. “It has been hard keeping it from you, but I wasn’t allowed to say anything before.”

“Better stop it right there.” Robb warned. “You are testing the limits of my patience with your hints and we both know we cannot do this here. Arya will be back any moment now. We are lucky to have gotten two sentences in already.”

Once more Jon gazed at Arya who was still playing with the direwolves.  
“Greywind looks amazing. I think he is taller than Ghost.” Arya was now attempting to brush the dirt out of Ghost’s fur. 

Behind her he saw people were still leaving the ship. Gendry was helping two horses to reach the shore. He almost got knocked over when one of the animals spooked at the sight of the direwolves.

“To me Ghost!” Jon yelled.

Ghost instantly obeyed and brought his two siblings along as well.

“Don’t be scared.” Arya told the young man. “They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.”

“The horse spooked, not I” Gendry defended himself. He looked at the girl. “You must be a Stark then?”

“Arya Stark. I am Jon’s best friend.” Arya answered, immediately staking her claim. She had been jealous reading about all these new friends in Jon’s letters. “Are you Sam, Gendry, Edric or just a stable boy?”

“Gendry, my Lady,” he taunted her, remembering what Jon had told him about Arya.

“I am no lady! And Jon’s my dear friend and I haven’t seen him in ages and …,” she paused, “Oh, just see to the horses.” She turned around and ran back to where Jon and Robb were petting the three wolves.

“I see you met Gendry.” Jon smiled at Arya. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.”  
Robb and Arya followed him. Arya had latched on to his arm once more. 

“You will not want to spend much time with them now we are here, will you Jon? You get to see them all the time already.” She pleaded with her big eyes.

“Don’t you want to meet my friends? Mind you, if you play your cards right, they can perhaps tell you some things about me that I am too embarrassed about to tell you myself.” It was the only thing he could come up with this instant to make her drop the jealousy act.

Arya considered this and her face lit up. The introductions went smoothly after that.

 

***

 

This settlement of the Stony Shore boasted enlarged docks, two watch towers, a fort and a prospering settlement. The tavern and the blacksmith’s workshop had been necessary additions to service the growing community. All these changes were part of the Warden of the North’s plans to improve their defenses of the western shores of his Kingdom. Robb took everything in. He wanted to be able to give his father a first hand report on the situation here.

When Arya and Robb entered the little tavern, Davos, Ser Gerold and Sandor were softly talking to Jon about the sleeping arrangements. Jon, Ser Gerold and Davos had been assigned the only rooms still available in the tavern. Arya, Robb and some Stark houseguards had arrived earlier and occupied the other ones. The Stark siblings went straight up to their rooms to give the innkeeper the opportunity to greet his new guests and see them settled in. The rest of Jon’s retinue set up camp outside or slept on the ships.

Jon heard Ser Gerold assign the tasks. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell would each take half a night shift. Sandor and Ser Barristan were charged to assign sufficient sentries for the encampment and also arrange the security on board of the three ships. 

The innkeeper interrupted. He apologised politely and handed Jon a number of messages addressed to Jon Celtigar that had arrived in the course of these last few sennights. Jon put them aside for now. He would read them once he had taken his belongings to his room. But first he had to inform them of his plans for the rest of the day. That way Ser Gerold could make the necessary adjustments to his security measures.

“I will spend the early evening in the encampment, with Robb, Arya and my friends around a campfire. You’re welcome to join us of course. As soon as Arya is asleep, I need a guard beside her door at all times. I plan to take Robb with me when I visit the dragons and will not have her sneak up on us. Greywind and Ghost will surely follow. I am not sure yet how deep Arya’s connection with her wolf is, so it will be safer to keep Nymeria locked up in a pen. I presume one of you will follow me and Robb as well even though we will have two direwolves and can take care of ourselves?”

“It never hurts to be cautious, my Prince. Besides an extra person can always be sent back to alert others if something looks suspicious.” Ser Gerold lectured.

“I know,” Jon sighed, “I really wanted a private moment with Robb though. It felt so good to reconnect with him. I can’t really explain it but Robb and I are," Jon paused searching for the right term.

“Kindred souls, soulmates?” Davos offered.

A warm smile crossed Jon’s face. “Thank you, Davos.” Jon stayed quiet after that.

Sandor stood up and broke the spell. “Best go see about those guards.” He left the room taking Ser Barristan with him.

“Come on Jon,” Davos encouraged him. Go get yourself settled in your room and read those messages. When you’re done we can enjoy ourselves around a fire and eat that warm meal the innkeeper promised us.

 

***

 

“A walk Jon, at this time of night?” It had been a long day and Robb was tired.

“Trust me, what I have to show you at the end of our little excursion will be worth it.” Jon tried to persuade his cousin.

“I warn you, it must be something out of this world for that to do the trick. I had a long day Jon.” 

“Well, I could hold off on telling you everything for a few days if you really want to go to bed.” Jon baited.

“And here I had imagined us sitting comfortably around a fire with a large pint of ale, me listening quietly while you spilled it all. That way the only effort on my part would have been trying to stay awake when you would inevitably start to bore me.” 

“I’ll start to spill the moment we’re out of sight and hearing range. So the faster you start walking, the sooner I can start talking.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Robb got up. “Where to Jon?”

“Follow me,” Jon said and the two boys walked towards the woods. Ser Oswell followed close behind.

“Robb, before I start, please know you are my best,” Jon was forced to stop because Robb cut in.

“I know Jon, best friend, don’t be mad, couldn’t tell sooner, blah blah blah. You can skip that part. I know all that already. Suspected it for years. Just spill.”

Jon took a deep breath. “I never told you who my mother was. We are related Robb.”

“We are?” 

“I am the son of your aunt, Lyanna Stark. I am your cousin. Uncle Benjen really is my uncle and your father is my uncle as well.”

“That’s what they told you when you were staying at Winterfell with us when you were twelve? Why is that such a big a secret? Cousins hey,” he nudged Jon. “I often speculated you know. You look so much like Arya. I once dreamt you were my brother, but that didn’t make sense because my father would never dishonour mother and you are not a bastard. It was a ridiculous dream. But brothers would have been nice. I’ll settle for cousins though.”

“Cousins can be as close as brothers. We certainly can.” A hesitant smile appeared on Jon’s face. “Hold that thought though because there is more.”

“Duh, if there weren’t you would have told me years ago. Who did aunt Lyanna marry?”

“Rhaegar Targaryen,” Jon answered quietly. Seeing the shock on Robb’s face he quickly continued. “It isn’t what you imagine. They loved each other. She eloped. Your aunt Lyanna I am told, was exactly like Arya. Nobody could force her to do anything against her will. She eloped to escape the betrothal with Robert Baratheon. She had fallen in love with my father.”

“If that is true, why didn’t they just tell everyone? Why let the lies explode into a fucking Rebellion?” Robb frowned. “It doesn’t make sense!”

Jon explained as best he could what he knew about the Rebellion and its aftermath.

Robb stood there like a statue. They had stopped walking the moment Jon had mentioned Prince Rhaegar.

Jon hesitantly touched Robb’s arm. “Hey, I’m still me. I know it is a shock but I’m still your friend.” Getting no reaction he tried to reach Robb once more. “You promised me that you would always keep that in mind. I distinctly remember you saying blah blah blah.” 

Jon had underestimated Robb’s reaction. He had been so confident that his cousin would understand. He had really hoped that Robb would just hug him and tell him everything was still the same. Now he felt stupid and afraid. _‘I should have been more considerate. Eased him into it not just dump it on him like that. Is it even wise to show him the dragons now?’_ Jon’s mind raced trying to think of a way to get Robb to understand.

Unsure what to do next he looked at Ser Oswell. The knight had a worried look on his face but kept his distance.

“Robb? Hey, you are scaring me here.” Was another of Jon’s desperate attempts to get a better reaction out of his cousin.

“Just let me rap my mind around this. You’ve had years. I’ve only had a few moments.” Came the terse retort.

“At least let’s resume our walk. I’ve promised them I would arrive shortly.” Jon said softly.

“Them? Are we going to meet someone? Come on, Jon. This is no longer the time for mysteries. Better come clean so I know all I’ll have to deal with.” This was a different Robb than the warm friend Jon was used to.

Jon hesitated but decided nothing but the truth would do now. “Well, I am a Targaryen and a Stark. I have a direwolf but I also have …”

“A dragon? No fucking way.” He looked at Jon. “I was kidding! No? I was right? You have a living and breathing dragon?”

“Two actually.” Jon admitted it was all or nothing now anyway.

“Do we still have far to go?” Robb had started walking again.

“No, but when we are there, let me approach them. You'll need to stay put where I’ll tell you to.”

Robb nodded and scanned the direct environment. “They are just out here in the open? How do you keep them a secret then? I’ve heard no rumours whatsoever. Are they rather small dragons?”

“Well give it a moment and you’ll see for yourself.” Jon sent a reassuring greeting to Rhaegal and Viserion. They could sense his agitation and would not react well to Robb if he didn’t let them know explicitly that the human he brought posed no threat.

“By the Old Gods they are large!” Robb exclaimed. He saw the silverwhite dragon first. The green one with beautiful bronze spots was better disguised by the thick brushes they used as shelter for the wind. 

“Do not step any closer. Just sit down here. I’m going over to say hello. I haven’t been able to pet them since we left Seagard.” Jon urged him quietly.

“How did you know where to find them? No, do not answer that. That is a dumb question. You bonded with such powerful beasts?”

“I started when they were smaller than a cat and could hardly puff a bit of smoke. When they got bigger they were already used to me. They consider me their parent. I am kind of a father of dragons. Our bond is really strong now.”

“Can they really spit fire?”

Threaten me and you’re toast.” Jon said lightly but was still worried. Ever since he had let it drop that Rhaegar Targaryen was his father, he had not stopped evaluating Robb’s reaction his uneasiness growing by leaps and bounds. 

Jon stood between the two dragons, glad for their company yet all the while worrying how outlandish this all must look to Robb. He really longed to assume his habitual position against Rhaegal’s flank, close his eyes and share his mind but hesitated.

Ser Oswell who had closely watched the boys’ interaction had grown rather worried as well. Stark looked almost white with shock, the confusion evident on his face and his Prince seemed on the verge of losing his composure. He decided to step in.  
“Lord Stark? Let’s install ourselves over there. I’ll make a fire. Let Jon say hello to them in private. He has missed their physical closeness these last few days.” 

Robb hesitated to turn his back on the two potentially dangerous creatures but complied. He sat down close to the spot where Ser Oswell was piling some wood. He tried to focus on something else and studied the knight in front of him.  
“You were Kingsguard to Aerys Targaryen?”

“I was. Do you realise you’ve received sword fighting lessons from the Sword of the Morning when you were twelve?” Ser Oswell tried to introduce a neutral topic.

“No wonder Theon never beat me again when I returned.” Robb forced a small smile. At least there was a nice side effect to this confusing business.

Ser Oswell now had a fire going. Both men settled a bit closer to the warmth.  
Robb looked behind him and saw Jon leaning back against the green dragon. His eyes were closed.  
“Is he sleeping or is he, you know?” Robb sighed.

“He is relaxing and the three of them are sharing their experiences from the last sennight or so. It always makes him feel better when he can do that.”

At the frown on Rob’s face he ventured, “Don’t be too hard on him. He didn’t choose who his parents were. He didn’t start the Rebellion.”

“It is al so fucked up. Targaryens killed my Grandfather and Uncle. Prince Rhaegar supposedly raped my aunt.”

“He didn’t rape her. Can you imagine Jon being a rapist?” Ser Oswell saw Robb shake his head without hesitation.  
“Well, Prince Rhaegar had the same disposition as Jon. Suspecting the Crown Prince of rape is just as ridiculous to all of us that knew him. You have an eyewitness sitting in front of you. I guarded Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna in Dorne. I saw them live together as man and wife. They had a passionate relationship. I also was present at their marriage ceremony. Jon didn’t lie to you. He didn’t embellish anything. You can ask your father. He knows some of these things first hand. Jon can only repeat what he was told.”

“But still? King Aerys killed my grandfather and Uncle Brandon.”

“King Aerys was called the Mad King for a reason and Brandon Stark could have been a bit more diplomatic. Not that I defend what King Aerys did. Prince Rhaegar was putting a plan in place to depose his father, but had to be careful. King Aerys could not get wind of his plot since he held Prince Rhaegar’s wife and children as virtual hostages in the Red Keep to keep his son in line.”

Robb did not react.

Ser Oswell tried once more. “How can you blame Jon for something that happened before he was even born?”

“I don’t. Not really. But the word Targaryen has a negative connotation in my mind, at least the recent generation of Targaryens. I can’t rhyme that with Jon. Not at the moment. And on top of all that, he is a not just an every day Targaryen. No, he is one with two large fire breathing dragons.”

“Would you have preferred not to know?” Ser Oswell enquired softly

“No. I don’t know? How long do we have to stay out here?” Robb could feel his irritation building. He was tired. He just wanted to be left alone and get some sleep. He would think about all of this some other time.

“Do you reckon you can find your way back alone?”

“No! Does that mean that Jon intends to stay out here all night?”

“He does sometimes. I am sure he wasn’t planning to tonight though. Stay here and let me fetch him.”

 

It seemed to Robb he had just closed his eyes for a short moment when Ser Oswell and Jon were before him putting out the fire.

“Come on. Your beds await. We’ll be back at the tavern in no time if only we can get started,” Ser Oswell encouraged both boys.

The three of them walked at a swift pace and returned to the tavern in silence.

When they neared the encampment Jon addressed Robb. “I hope you get a good night’s rest, Robb. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I think I shall sleep in. I’m exhausted. I will have several questions for you later tomorrow though. We will need to hold off Arya.” Robb said a bit stiffly.

“Of course, I’ll think of something. Perhaps my friends can give her some sparring lessons? Sleep well, Robb.” 

 

Ser Oswell followed a despondent Jon to his room.  
“Do you need anything my Prince?” Ser Oswell was loath to leave him alone. Jon sat on his bed, hunched over. Seeing him like this reminded Ser Oswell of Prince Rhaegar in one of his troubled moods.

“I don’t understand? Everyone I’ve told before reacted better, even some who hardly knew me.  
Robb is my best friend. I was sure that he of all people would understand me and support me. And it wasn’t because I waited too long to tell him, it was something else. You talked to him? Do you understand his reaction?”

Ser Oswell installed himself in a chair next to the bed.  
“Give him time, Jon. He has grown up hating Prince Rhaegar. His young mind associates the Targaryen name with the killing of his grandfather and uncle, not to mention the raping of his aunt. He told me literally he couldn’t rhyme the word Targaryen with you.”

“What can I do?”

“Talk to him when he is not so tired. Do you remember how as a young kid you always saw a problem in every situation when you were tired? You would blow things out of proportion and get irritated by the tiniest thing. And then the next morning, after a good night’s sleep either you solved the problem in an instant or you couldn’t understand why it was a problem in the first place.”

“Rob admitted he was exhausted. And perhaps his disappointment and shock were not all about you. Robb learned tonight that the father he has looked up to his entire life, the same father that is praised throughout the realm for his honour, has not only hidden this monumental secret from him, he has also been conspiring against the Iron Throne for seventeen years. King Robert would call him a traitor.  
And maybe, do not get mad at me for saying this, but maybe Robb is a bit spoiled. He is heir to the North. He has always been the most important person when dealing with boys, I mean men of his own generation. Now he just learned that you are a Prince and outrank him.”

Jon looked pensive. “What do I do now? Just let him rest? Give him time? It seems so insufficient.”

“And stay yourself. Certainly do not apologise. Don’t treat him any different. That should do it.” Ser Oswell encouraged.

Jon sighed. He was not really convinced but wished to be alone now. “Thank you Ser Oswell. I’ll try to get some rest.”

“You’re welcome, my Prince.” Ser Oswell left the room and hoped Ser Arthur would arrive soon to take over guard duty. He could use some to talk to as well.

 

****

 

The next morning, Jon woke up to voices. A faint light came through the dirty window of the small room. It must be early still. He focused his hearing. Arya was pestering Ser Arthur to let her enter his room.

It felt as if he had just gone to sleep moments ago. He made a mental inventory of his commitments for the day. He would just have to delegate some things to Davos. He jumped out of bed and got dressed in a hurry.

“Let her in Ser Arthur,” he called out. 

 

***

 

It was almost noon. Jon had taken care of the most urgent things with Arya glued to his side almost the entire time. She had reluctantly gone outside for the duration of his conversation with Davos and Gendry. She had accompanied him when he had visited the three ships. Together they had walked through the encampment, stopping here and there to address some minor issues. Jon had yet to see Robb. He had only caught a glimpse of him from afar and they had greeted each other with a nod but Robb had not made any attempt to approach. Jon could not remember a time he had felt this unsettled.

“Come on, Arya. Let’s see if Robb is as hungry as we are. We can all take lunch together.” Perhaps Arya’s presence would help them interact .

They found Robb in the common room of the tavern. He was talking to Sam. Edric and Gendry were sitting there as well engrossed in a separate conversation.

“Hey, can we join you?” Jon addressed his words to the four of them but stood behind the empty chair next to Robb. 

Sam looked up a big smile on his face. “Hey Jon, where have you been all morning? Of course you are welcome to join us.”

“He was with me!” Arya called out. “We’ve been all over. We are not as lazy as you.”

“Thanks Sam. How are thing over here?” he asked softly.

“Well it seems we all slept rather late. Davos just gave me some messages to hand to you.”  
Sam lowered his voice so only Jon could hear. “Lord Arryn died and Robb can only stay until news of King Robert’s departure reaches us.”  
Then he continued in a normal voice. ”A delegation from Winterfell arrived this morning to take Arya home. They will want to leave soon. Robb stalled them until you were back. He said he wanted to give his sister some quality time with her best friend in the world before you two were being forced to separate for the Gods know how long.”

Jon accepted the scrolls and tucked them in his pocket. “They sent a delegation just to get Arya back? That seems a bit excessive, even for the Starks.” Jon commented desperately wanting to know if Robb’s absence had been as benevolent as it appeared to the others. His cousin had not once looked up at him. Jon himself was still standing, his hands now holding on to the chair extremely tight. He could see his own knuckles turn white.

“Nooooooh,” Arya whined. “Robb, can you not tell them to go away? You’re the heir to Winterfell.”

“I’m sorry Arya.” Robb looked genuinely sorry. “But we have received written orders from Father.” He handed her a scroll. “Here, you may read them. I may be the heir but he is the ruling Lord of Winterfell. There is nothing I can do.”

“Hey Arya,” Jon spoke kindly, releasing his hold on the chair and looked at her. He saw she had angry tears falling from her eyes. “Let’s eat lunch together. Immediately after, I will give you the present I brought especially for you.” Over Arya’s head he gave Gendry a signal. His friend got up and left the room.

“Okay”, she said quietly and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“I’m sure we will still have time for a short sparring session. Willing to take me on?” Jon comforted his little cousin some more.

Eyes wide Arya enveloped Jon in a hug. “You’re the best Jon." Then she released him. “Let’s sit down already and eat.”

 

Arya ate quickly. She was almost finished when Gendry reappeared carrying an object wrapped up in cloth.  
“Arya, it seems your present has arrived. I had something made for you. My friend Gendry is a capable blacksmith and spent a long time crafting your present. Although I gave him a detailed description, Gendry helped make it a unique piece. I think even Robb will be jealous.” During his short speech he had taken the package from Gendry and presented it to Arya.

Arya almost ripped the cloth. “A sword! A real sword?. This is steel?”

“Yes Arya, be careful it is very sharp. This is not a training sword. I trust you to handle it responsibly. When you wield that, you must act and think like an adult. Keep in mind that I will bear the brunt of Lady Catelyn’s displeasure if you hurt people or damage something with it without ample justification”, he cautioned her. “I want you to use it only if your life or the lives of your loved ones are in danger. Promise me Arya.”

Arya would kiss the ground Jon walked on if he asked at this point. She was ready to promise him anything.  
“I promise on my honour as a Stark,” she vowed solemnly. Then she took her time to study the sword. It was a piece of art. The blade shone and the edges were immaculate. But the decorations on the hilt and pommel were simply exquisite. The pommel ended in a miniature head of a direwolf. 

Arya had tears in her eyes once more. This time however they were no angry tears. She carefully put the sword back in the scabbard and hugged Jon for a long while. Then she went over to Gendry. After a small hesitation she gave him a brief hug as well. “Thank you, Gendry. Nobody has ever made me anything this beautiful. Truly, I thank you." 

Gendry looked a bit embarrassed and stuttered something before taking a step back.  
Jon smiled. “I am glad you like it Arya.”

Robb looked from Jon to Arya to the sword and back to Arya. “Can I touch it?” he asked her.

“Yes but be careful. Are your hands tidy enough?” 

Robb wiped his hands in an exaggerated manner before taking the sword from her and examining every detail of it.

“Thank you Jon.” Robb said quietly, his eyes still on the sword.

“It is for Arya. I have a feeling she will need it," he answered seriously all the while hating their current predicament. Jon excused himself soon after to read his scrolls and finish his letter to Uncle Ned so he could send it back with Arya. 

.

 

Not much later he returned for a short sparring session with his little cousin. He made sure to praise her foot work and showed her new ways to dodge an opponent’s swings. All too soon it was time to say goodbye. Arya first embraced her brother saying a teary goodbye then she went over to Jon.  
Jon had never been hugged so much in one day. Arya clung to him desperately.  
“I hate to leave you Jon. We have not had enough time, not even close.”

“Well now at least I can be honest when I tell you that I am glad you woke me so early this morning”, he tried to tease.

“I wish you were my brother. I wish you could come to Winterfell with me.”

“I will come for a visit," he promised.

“Don’t wait too long Jon," she insisted.

Jon saw the wagon start to move.  
“Give my regards to your family. Do not forget to hand that letter to your father. I trust your Stark honour not to break the seal and read it yourself.” He called after her.

Arya just waved back stupid tears preventing her from answering.

 

Jon turned to Robb. “I was planning on speaking to the garrison commander at the fort today. I want to gather information on the raids and assess the threat the Ironborn pose here. Davos and Ser Gerold are interrogating the town’s people as we speak. Are you interested in coming along?”

“Isn’t that my business anyway?” Robb asked in a neutral tone.

“It is if you represent your father’s interests. I just do it because I want to protect the people that followed me here. I’ll let you do the talking if you prefer?”

“Uncle Benjen fears you are spoiling for a fight with the Ironborn to prove yourself.” Robb’s tone was accusing.

“Robb,” Jon sighed. “Will you ever trust me again? Your father does.” 

“I still trust you. I do. I just need to accustom myself to this new reality. As I recall it, you needed time as well back then. Let us table this discussion for now and speak about this tonight. I will have some questions for you then. I am still trying to formulate them all in my mind.”

“You can ask me anything, Robb," Jon promised him and then changed the topic to the political situation of the Iron Islands.

 

They didn’t learn much from their investigation. The attacks had no pattern. The consensus was however that the presence of Jon’s three ships would help to discourage the Ironborn from attacking this spot for now. Jon handed Robb the reports he had written about the state of the defenses of Cape Kraken. Robb accepted them and joined them to his own notes for his father. Then he had left on a small excursion with Gendry and Edric while Jon talked to Davos and Sandor.

Sandor Clegane didn’t beat about the bush. “Trouble in boys’ paradise?”

Jon swallowed visibly. “Not now, Sandor.”

“Just tell him to stop his bullshit and whining. If he can think straight for two fucking moments he’ll come around. If not, he is a dumb ass, a fucking moron and not worthy of your time.” Sandor walked away after that pearl or wisdom.

Davos looked at Jon. “Not how I would have put it but he is right, Jon. Robb will come around or he is no real friend.”

“It still hurts, Davos. Ser Oswell believes Robb is disappointed in the role his father plays in all this and he takes it out on me. He also thinks Robb’s pride might be hurt since I could eventually outrank him should I become King. Can there be any truth in that last part? It doesn’t sound like the Robb I know.”

“Do not forget he has been raised by Catelyn Stark. Everyone I asked described her as an ambitious proud southern lady. It could well be her influence on him. I do not know Jon. Just be you and do not lower yourself or plead too much. You are at least his equal, and soon his superior. What’s more, you have done nothing wrong. Keep that in mind. Be kind and let the situation play out. Remember Ser Arthur’s words. Use this experience and learn from it. That way, even this struggle will have its worth. You’ll be stronger because of it, no matter the outcome.”

Davos had left him alone then, leaving Jon to mull over both men’s advice. 

He would visit his dragons now and take Ghost along. That way he could talk to Robb this night here in the encampment without neglecting anybody. It was a cloudy day. Perhaps he could fly along in Rhaegal’s mind and scout the seas. They would continue their journey north soon. Next stop was Sea Dragon Point. Hopefully Robb would still be with them by then.

 

***

 

That night Robb and Jon set a new record. It became the longest talk they had ever had.  
It started with Robb questioning Jon about his intentions. Jon stayed calm sometimes referring to the fact that most of the plans were in place long before he had any knowledge of them with Robb’s father as the primary instigator. At first Robb did not believe this. The honourable Eddard Stark could not be the leader of such a bunch of traitors, because that is what they all were if you looked at it from the other side. Jon softly retorted that he was the living proof of Lord Stark’s ‘betrayal’ if that was the way Robb wanted to phrase it. Eddard Stark had saved a baby’s life and given the small child an entourage worthy of a King. Robb swallowed and stayed silent for a bit.  
Then he started to ask practical questions. Jon answered them one by one often repeating the need for discretion since Lord Stark’s head hung in the balance and by extension Robb‘s head as well.

Slowly the subjects became more personal. Jon stressed they had been very patient and had laid a lot of groundwork for their Rebellion. They were hopeful that hardly any blood would be shed when they deposed the Baratheons and Lannisters. He described his dream of establishing a better reign. It was all about helping people and trying to make the lives of the smallfolk and servants better as well. 

Then Jon gave Robb an insight in his warging abilities and tried to persuade him to start the mental training exercises Jon had performed in his youth under the supervision of Lord Reed. Jon was of the opinion that the Stark siblings could all develop a certain level of bonding with their respective animals. The wolf dreams, Jon insisted, were an indication of a tentative bond between pet and human. Jon guessed it was the direwolf reaching out to his owner when the latter’s guard was lowered by sleep. If Robb would actively try to reach Greywind’s mind, Jon supposed the direwolf would only be too happy to respond. 

Seeing Robb was interested Jon closed his eyes and called for Ghost. He asked him to come to them and bring Greywind along. Both wolves appeared and Jon gave Robb his first lesson. After several tries Robb managed to consciously enter Greywind’s mind for an instant but only when he was touching him with both hands and looking straight into his yellow eyes. They figured it was a promising start. After that, Robb’s attitude started to mellow. 

They ended up talking as they used to before about anything and everything.  
Jon told him about a short message he had received from Uncle Ned. Eddard Stark had suspected Jon would tell Robb his origins. Eddard Stark warned them both to keep in mind that the Lords of the North did not know anything yet. They would have to keep it a secret for now. It was the responsibility of the Warden of the North to inform his bannermen of the political situation when the timing was right.  
Then Jon proceeded to show him Uncle Benjen’s latest letter. One he had received at Cape Kraken. Jon shared his worries with Robb about the situation at the Wall and their Uncle Benjen’s safety.

 

_Jon,_

_I hope you are enjoying your time at the Stony Shore with Robb. I would have liked to join you both over there after delivering Loras Tyrell to Winterfell but I really needed to travel to the Wall. The reports from the Lord Commander keep getting more desperate._

_How are your flying pets? I hope you have them under control. I can’t wait to visit you again to see with my own eyes how much bigger they will be yet again and how you can keep them hidden. I haven’t heard any rumours about them here in the North yet. It seems you are doing the impossible once again._

_I’m writing this letter from Castle Black. I just had dinner with your Uncle Aemon. He asks to send you his love and that he will dictate a letter to you before I leave so I can take it with me. He will take the opportunity to use me as his scribe once more so he can be a bit more open with his information. The things I do for you …_

_Anyway the news at the Wall is not that good. Every few moons, rangers don’t come back. The Wildlings we’ve encountered are speaking of dark magic living in the Lands of Always Winter. They claim they are being hunted. As you and my older brother discussed, we have set up a tentative communication system with the Wildlings. Every few moons, we attempt to meet halfway between the Wall and their closest settlement. However not all the clans are comfortable with that, and neither are the rangers of the Night’s Watch who have been here the longest._

_But for the moment there is a shaky peace between the Night’s Watch and the Wildlings. If only both parties can keep their own ranks in check, things will get better and there will be fewer casualties._

_The Wildlings call themselves The Free Folk, an apt name, don’t you think so. They are organising themselves and have named a ‘King beyond the Wall’. It happens to be someone Jeor Mormont knows. According to the Lord Commander, the King beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder, is a former ranger of the Night’s Watch who deserted and went to live among the Free Folk. But the good news is that he is a man who knows our culture and can be reasoned with._

_I have talked to this Mance Rayder. He tried to persuade me that not all of the missing rangers from the Night’s Watch are killed by The Free Folk. He knows he can’t control all of his people but most have stopped harassing the Crows. And no, that is not a wrong word. Crows are what the Free Folk call the Night’s Watch. I think it is to do with their black attire. Anyway, do you remember old Nan’s tales about the Long Night and the White Walkers with their armies of dead people? Well it is this farfetched story that the King Beyond the Wall has given as a reason for the disappearance of our rangers. He even claims thousands of his people have gone missing as well._

_We are all debating how to react to this. How do you begin to look for proof of mystical creatures?  
Mance Rayder has proposed a joint scouting mission consisting of Free Folk, experienced Night Watch rangers and at least one representative sent by the Warden of the North. In short, he wants me to join them. The King beyond the Wall will not come along himself. He claims that he is needed in the settlements and that without him, the constant infighting between the different clans will only give the White Walkers more soldiers without having to lift an icy finger. He will send his second in command along, Tormund Giantsbane. I have met the man several times already. His name is apt. He is a really tall fellow with red hair. I think you could like him Jon, he reminds me of Clegane. _

_Now the Night’s Watch and I will need to decide whether we trust Mance Rayder enough to agree to his suggestion. I have been trying to figure out why Mance Rayder specifically asks for me to take part in this joint mission and I think I have come up with a possible explanation. It could be that he is trying to plant the idea into our heads to allow his people south of the wall. He would need the influence of the Warden of the North for that. That’s where I come in I guess. If he can persuade me the threat is real, as his brother, I am a direct link to the Warden of the North who has jurisdiction south of the Wall.  
It is a big ask, don’t you think? I can’t imagine the Watch ever agreeing to this. They have been fighting each other for several thousands years if our history books are correct. _

_Anyway this mission will be dangerous, even if you don’t believe in White Walkers and trust the Free Folk not to murder us at the first opportunity. We would have to travel north across a very cold and foreign area filled with wild animals, steep mountains, glaciers and other unknown dangers._

_So do not worry if you don’t hear from me for some time. And do remember our talk. If ever Rhaegal is large enough and lets you ride him, do not come to the Wall. It is too cold and too dangerous out here. Train your dragons on easier missions. Be smart nephew!_

_Well, if I look this letter over, it has certainly gotten long enough. I’ve been adding a few lines to it every night before retiring but I think it is time I sent it on its way._

_Oh, before I forget, please write to Uncle Ned. He needs some outside advice on how to deal with one of his bannermen. It seems there is unrest in the North as well. Perhaps he will already have sent you a message by now._

_Give my warmest regards to your loyal protectors and friends. Tell Robb the next letter I write will be addressed to him.  
Keep safe and healthy. I pray to the Old Gods each night and ask them to let me see the both of you again before year’s end. _

_Keep safe,  
Your Uncle Benjen _

 

 

Robb took his time and read it twice before discussing the content with his cousin. Their joint worry about their uncle further cemented their mended relationship.

Robb told him about visiting brothels with Theon and that he worried about the Kraken’s recently formed friendship with the despicable Ramsey Snow, a bastard son of Roose Bolton.  
Jon had told Robb shyly about his visit to Princess Daenerys. From there it was a small step to venture to girls and sex.  
Jon laughed. “Do you really want to talk about this? Remember, you promised Arya.” Robb gave him a friendly shove and all was well again between them.

Robb told him of his visits to the whores in Wintertown and of his subsequent crushes first on one of the handmaids at Winterfell, then Wylla Manderly followed by Elyssa Cerwyn. He assured Jon that he hadn’t acted on these crushes, he had not ventured further with these girls than a few stolen kisses, a bit of touching at the most. Whores knew how to prevent getting with child, highborn ladies did not. He wouldn’t risk his mother’s ire and beget a bastard child. It took some prodding on Robb’s part before Jon admitted to his single night of sex education. Robb didn’t seem to mind anymore that Jon could teach him a thing or two, at least not on this subject. 

Jon went to sleep with a clear conscience. He had adhered to Davos’ advice and hadn’t pleaded. Robb had come back to him on his own terms. It had only taken a long honest talk.

 

That night he dreamed he flew high up in the sky and saw a large fleet heading for the Stony Shore.

He woke up hearing loud bells waking the entire settlement. Ser Arthur stood at his bedside. “Hurry my Prince. We are about to come under attack. The watch post sent word that at least twenty ships are coming this way. I hate to say it but I think you will need to call the dragons.  
Jon was up and dressed in no time.  
“Put on your full armour, My Prince. And take your helmet with you as well. Best be prepared. This is no ordinary raid. The Ironborn have come with far superior numbers than our combined forces on the shore."  
Ser Arthur explained that the fortress was on full alert, Ser Gerold was coordinating the defenses on the ships, Sandor was mobilising the inhabitants of the settlement who were willing to fight. “Ser Gerold ordered me to stay with you and guard you in case you would have to warg into Rhaegal. Ser Gerold hopes the dragon can scout the open sea for us and give you an accurate threat assessment.”

Ser Arthur helped Jon put on the last pieces of his armour and now they were hurrying through the building. On his way out, Jon grabbed a piece of bread from the kitchen. Then he ran to the woods mentally calling for his dragons to come to him.

“Ser Arthur, stay back please. They are going to land in front of me. I will tell them what’s going on and ask them if they are willing to help us.”

“If you are able to set fire to some of the ships you should know that Davos advised to target the front and the back row of their formation, trapping the ships in the middle.” Ser Arthur knew he overstepped and would probably have to answer to Ser Gerold for this but he disagreed with his Lord Commander. He was certain that without help from the dragons, the little settlement would be overrun. Whatever strategy the garrison commander and Ser Gerold could come up with, they didn’t stand a chance against twenty warships. He quickly stepped back to make room for the dragons that flew in and landed next to his Prince.

Jon petted them and tried to convey the situation by just picturing it in his mind. Rhaegal nudged Jon and lowered his wing, clearly wanting Jon to mount. Jon had done so only once before when Ser Oswell had fallen asleep during one of his nightly visits. He knew Rhaegal was right. If he could see everything through his own eyes he could instruct them first hand to change their battle plan and instantly counteract unexpected manoeuvers of the attackers. His dragons were intelligent. It was good advice. 

Still he hesitated and looked over to Ser Arthur. The knight looked worried. “Hurry my Prince, the enemy is not far out. Sit down and do you warg thing.”

“I’m sorry Ser Arthur, but this is the best way.” Jon said softly and climbed on Rhaegal’s back.

“At least close your helmet.” Ser Arthur shouted. “Protect your identity my Prince. Ser Gerold won’t like this at all.” 

“Don’t worry. I will close my visor when I attack the ships. For now I want to have my full range of vision. I’ll be careful Ser Arthur. But Rhaegal and I really believe this is the best option. He turned his attention to his dragon and they were in the air in no time. Rhaegal flew high and fast and soon Jon could see the entire fleet shimmer through the clouds below him. He felt Viserion’s presence nearby. He sensed the dragons’ protective instincts flare up but also the underlying excitement both of them felt of being able to show the ones who threatened his human how powerful they really were.

It was immediately obvious that this was no friendly visit. The initial count had been right. Twenty ships were headed for the Stony Shore. They were organised in three rows. Seven ships formed the first and the last row. The middle row contained six vessels. The ships on the front row were only a mile away from the shore by now. Jon flew a bit lower and studied the situation with the help of the small spyglass he had forgotten to hand back to Davos and still carried in his pocket. He could make out the men on deck. They were all in full armour, weapons at the ready clearly eager for battle. He also noticed Euron Greyjoy’s personal sigil on a banner. Yara Greyjoy had described it to him, a red eye surmounted by a black crown held aloft by two black crows. He didn’t hesitate any longer. Minding Ser Arthur’s warning he closed the visor on his helmet.

The first dive set two of the ships closest to the shore afire. Viserion seamlessly copied every move of Rhaegal but took care to target the ship at the opposite end of the front row. Jon steered them back up above the clouds and flew to the back of the convoy before the Ironborn realised what hit them. He was able to examine the chaos below through a small opening in the clouds. The ship Rhaegal had set on fire seemed rudderless and was on a collision course with the neighbouring vessel. Fire and smoke were causing a full blown panic. All eyes were on the burning ships at the front of the convoy. Jon took advantage of that fact and dove below the clouds a second time. He did not fly up until all seven ships in the back row were engulfed in flames.

Soaring above the clouds back toward the shoreline he considered his next step. He knew the men on the beach and the crew aboard his own ships had witnessed his actions. The existence of his dragons could no longer be concealed. He took his time to assess the remaining threat. The four ships still intact on the front row hadn’t changed their course and had been joined by two others. The Ironborn still seemed intent on attacking the settlement. The gap between the burning ships and the ones on course for the attack was widening. Jon saw countless men in the water or still jumping overboard to escape the spreading fires. At least Euron Greyjoy, or whoever was in command had ordered two of the still undamaged vessels to pick up survivors.  
He focused his attention on the six ships still intent on attacking that were approaching the shoreline at full speed. If he let this play out his own people and vessels would suffer great losses. 

His hearth beat loudly when he made his decision. Stealth was no longer an option. He swallowed and gambled it all. He closed his visor once more. Rhaegal descended below the clouds and flew in full view over the encampment, the armies on the shore and the men on his own ships to confront the attacking ships. His dragons turned around and stopped mid-air. Rhaegal did his best to hoover in front of the ship closest to the shoreline.

“Turn back or face dragon fire,” he shouted. Viserion had come up next to them. Both dragons blew a warning smoke cloud over some heavily armed Ironborn warriors. They cried out in pain, small burns blistering their skin, the metal on their armour red hot.

“This is your last warning, turn around now or be burned alive!” Jon tried once more to convince them to turn around and avoid further bloodshed. He didn’t wait for their decision but flew out of there because he had noticed some men overcome their initial shock and reach for bows and arrows. After all, he had promised not to take unnecessary risks. When he was at a safe distance and height he checked behind him and saw the ships slowly turn around. They had aborted the attack. He felt relief, excitement and even a bit of smugness. 

He swiftly landed back near the edge of the woods and descended. His legs were a bit shaky at first. He took off his helmet and shook his head to loosen the curls who stuck to his head wet with perspiration. He sent waves of gratefulness to both dragons. Rhaegal had obeyed every suggestion of Jon without a single hesitation. Viserion had been very willing to follow his brother’s actions. What was important though was that they had retreated above the clouds each time Jon had asked them to and had also agreed to leave the battle before destroying every last ship. Jon petted them both and looked around. Ser Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Jon called for Ghost who had stayed close to the place he had seen Jon take off not long before. Accompanied by his direwolf, he ran back to join their forces on the beach.

“Didn’t know you had it in ye, kid.” Clegane was the first to notice him. “The Iron cunts are fleeing like scared little ducks.” 

Jon didn’t reply, he noticed everyone staring at him in awe. Some went down to their knees and worshiped him like a God. Others backed away looking fearful and disbelieving.  
Jon didn’t know how to react and tried to go for an innocent smile. “We’re saved.” He stated simply to no one in particular. “They had it coming.”

He heard someone cheer. Then a few others joined in and soon the crowd was cheering loudly. Jon presumed it was their way of showing relief for escaping a grave danger. The smallfolk probably realised that the only reason they had withstood the largest attack their shores had ever witnessed was this young man. However terrifying he might be, he was on their side. They started to approach him.

Jon noticed a protective circle formed around him and Ghost. His Kingsguard and his friends had all come to his side. Gendry was the first of them to speak since Sandor’s outburst. “Oh Gods Jon, they are so powerful. The amount of fire they released! I have never seen such powerful flames before. That dragonfire burned through those ships so fast. I bet I could melt the sturdiest metal in these flames in an instant.” 

He felt Davos touching his arm. “Are you okay son? You have suffered no burns yourself?”

“Their fire can’t hurt me Davos. Maester Aemon suspected as much and I have experienced it first hand today.” He showed Davos his hands. “Look for yourself, I am unharmed.” 

“Let us go inside and debrief," Ser Gerold forcefully intervened. “Best get away from this crowd before they decide they all want a piece of Jon.” He looked around. “These folks need to calm down before I will let you near them again. Let’s get you somewhere safe, my Prince”, he urged once more.

“I need to get my dragons to hide a bit farther away first. Give me a moment.” Jon closed his eyes and didn’t move for a short while. His entourage knew better than to disturb him now.  
“Okay, we can go now.” Jon had opened his eyes again and obliged Ser Gerold. 

They entered the tavern still in formation, Jon in the middle of the tightly knit group. The warden hurried to the kitchen to serve his best food and drink to the hero of the day.

 

***

 

“What could I have done differently?” Jon was tired of defending himself to Ser Gerold. They had gone over every stage of his strategy at least five times by now.

“You could have stayed off Rhaegal. Just guided the both of them and stayed safely on the ground as we all thought you would do. You’ve blown our cover. How can we say the dragons aren’t yours now? I thought the backup plan was to send out the rumour that the Golden Company used dragons if ever we were discovered. Now they know of a young man flying around riding one. Only Targaryens have been known to do that Jon. King Robert will react to this.”

“We could still deny that someone sat on top of the dragon. We will admit to the dragon. But if the people here stay silent on the detail of seeing me ride a dragon, the rumours can be discredited in King's Landing by our allies. Besides whom will King Robert believe? Some vague rumours that are contradicted by other rumours, or the Warden of the North who knows what happens on his territory. Lord Varys can help us there as well if necessary.”

“Best send out ravens to all parties concerned immediately. Don’t forget the Tullys and the Driftmark. We will all go outside and ask the people to protect the young man who saved them. If they ask about his origins we do not know. You are just an orphan who grew up at the Driftmark. They all saw our genuine disbelief at the sight of you on the dragon. We can tell them truthfully we didn’t know before today.”  
“Jon, you stay inside for now. We will reconvene tonight and discuss the reactions of the smallfolk here and then decide how best to proceed from there."

“Edric, Gendry, Sam we will need you to go out there as well to help spread the word. Stark?” Ser Gerold asked looking at Robb.

“I will go as well. As representative of the Warden of the North I can proclaim that Jon is under his protection. To expose Jon would mean they disobeyed Lord Eddard Stark. They all realise how much they owe my father. He is the one who has changed an almost extinct village into a prospering settlement.” 

“Even better," Ser Gerold replied with a grateful nod in Robb’s direction. “Perhaps we should alter our stories?”

A debate ensued. Jon grew tired and told them to get on with it. “Just try and stick close to the first story. It won’t be long now anyway. For all we know the King has already left Kingslanding. If you will excuse me?” He left in the direction of his room, Ghost tripped after him. Ser Gerold hesitated but then appointed Sandor Clegane to guard Jon. Best not let Clegane’s curses loose on the local population.

 

 

**Interlude 11: Pride comes before the fall**

Finally the Starks would get what they deserved. Lord Petyr Baelish was sure of it. This time he had taken every precaution. Somehow these last few years several of his carefully laid out plans had been thwarted. Some had even backfired terribly leaving him weaker as before. It had only made him up his game. This time he had done almost everything himself. Not trusting any middle person or spy unless absolutely necessary. And finally he would avenge the insults Brandon Stark had shouted at him all those years ago. He was sorry Catelyn would suffer as well but she had made her bed. He had given her an out many times and she had not taken it. Repeatedly he had subtly degraded her husband in her eyes proclaiming him weak and lacking ambition. He had pointed out to her that Stark forced her to live among the barbarians in the North and isolated her children, thereby diminishing their chances to shine in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. But all to no avail. She had not helped his cause, not much anyway. Well he was done with her now. After several of his assassination attempts on Eddard Stark had failed, he had given up on the plan of getting rid of her husband and marrying Lady Catelyn himself. Besides, he could do so much better now.

At this point, he had more power and influence than the honourable Eddard Stark. Lord Stark had been handed his power on a golden platter and was squandering it away. Petyr had fought for every little bit of his own. He was very proud of his accomplishments. Having started out as an impoverished Lord of an insignificant house in the Vale he had ingratiated himself with the ruling house of the Vale through his friendship with Lysa and Catelyn Tully. Lord Arryn had recognised his aptitude to turn a profit and had promoted him, even taken him to Kingslanding when Lord Arryn became hand of the King. There he had really flourished. His cunning and ruthless manipulation of people had made him thrive in this political environment. Only his arch nemesis Varys, the Master of Whispers had been able slow down his rise to power. Littlefinger had lost face before the small council several times over the last decade. He was almost sure the Spider was behind it each and every time.

But no more. This time everything was going according to plan and nothing could hinder it any longer. The Starks were going down, the Lannisters were going down, someone else was already picking of the Baratheons and Petyr Baelish would be the one to rise like an eagle. He need not be crowned King, Hand of the King was the most powerful position anyway. If he played his cards right he could even pick the house who would take the throne when King Robert was no longer in the picture.

 

***

 

“I hate meeting here. I always have a splitting headache for the rest of the day.” Prince Oberyn complained. The loud hammering of the blacksmith’s workshop could be heard. The man worked all day without taking a break. At least that is how it seemed inside this tiny room.

“It still is the safest place I can think of, my Prince”, Varys replied in his singing voice. 

“Well at least you brought something to drink.” Prince Oberyn brought the glass of wine to his lips. Dornish wine, the best you can find in this stinking capital. You really know your wine, my Lord Varys.”

“I try,” Varys smirked and toasted silently before drinking as well.

“Can you describe the face Littefinger made in detail when he heard his ship with well trained whores had been confiscated and the girls were sent away never to be found by him again?” Prince Oberyn relished hearing about the end results of all their little schemes. His only regret was that he was not often present to enjoy the reaction of their enemies first hand.

“That one was priceless, but let me tell you about my smug face when their replacements came in and he accepted them without any suspicion.”

“You mean your female little birds that had grown too old for your normal purposes?” Prince Oberyn remembered mention of this in his last report.

“Yes, mind you only the ones who volunteered. They were promised that one year of playing the luxury whore in one of Petyr Baelish’s cosy establishments whilst feeding him the false rumours I whisper in their ears would see them well provided for the rest of their lives. I had plenty of volunteers and picked only the most beautiful ones of course.”  
Varys proceeded to give Prince Oberyn a few examples of how Littlefinger got played by his grown up birds.  
Then he decided to get on with the business at hand. “Enough of that for now. How are things in Dorne?”

“What have you heard?” Prince Oberyn smile disappeared from his face. “You probably knew before me what my stupid brother has done.”

“I’ve heard whispers. So it is true? Did Prince Quentyn journey to Pentos?”

“My brother was not satisfied with my vague progress reports on the Targaryen situation. Somehow a rumour reached him that a dragon had been spotted flying over the Narrow Sea setting a pirate ship on fire. Of course he thinks the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea have been playing us this entire time. He sent his eldest son Prince Quentyn over there to find Princess Daenerys and marry her. When I confronted him he laughed in my face. He even admitted he had told his son to use any means necessary safe killing her before she birthed him an heir and before he knew how to command the dragon.”

“Your careful wait-and-see brother?” Varys was surprised at the ruthless picture Prince Oberyn painted.

“Has turned into a real viper it seems. Should we worry about her safety?” Prince Oberyn seemed really concerned for the Targaryen Princess.

“My little birds said Prince Quentyn left Pentos with his tail between his legs. I have no further information yet. You mean Prince Doran hasn’t either? Prince Quentyn should be home by now.”

“Perhaps the would-be-rapist is afraid to come home and face his father now that he has fled, how did you call it, with his tail between his legs?” Prince Oberyn managed a smile laugh now that he knew the Princess was safe. Then another thought struck him.  
“As long as Princess Daenerys has not pointed him in Prince Aegon’s direction.”

“Never! She has turned down several suitors. I’m sure she is getting quite proficient at it. Nobody gets within ten feet of her without her consent and even then she is surrounded by several armed men. Did you hear she turned down a Dothraki Khal and suffered no harm? Have you heard of Khal Drogo? He is called the Khal of Khals. He had seen her when she visited a local market and was taken in by her beauty. If that man can accept a no from her, Prince Quentyn didn’t stand a chance.”

“That doesn’t mean she did not mention Prince Aegon to him.”

“She knows all about Prince Aegon’s plans. They write each other all the time. She understands everything hinges on his existence staying a secret for now. She would never betray her nephew. I suspect she even hopes he will marry her in true Targaryen fashion. She could have married someone else years ago. I doubt there is an unmarried man in Pentos who would refuse her.”

“Did you hear about the Tyrells?” Oberyn changed the subject.

“All I know is that Lady Olenna is still harassing the small council with her demand for a betrothal between Prince Joffrey and her granddaughter Lady Margaery. The King prefers Sansa Stark as you well know.”

“I meant to ask you what their reaction was to Loras’ arrest?” Prince Oberyn clarified.

“Mace Tyrell meekly told the small council it surely must have been a misunderstanding and they were confident that Loras Tyrell would be released soon enough. The poor boy could only be an innocent victim and was to be pitied.”

“The Tyrells will surely harass Lord Stark now.” Oberyn remarked.

“I do not think they will venture all the way to the North. They will send letters to demand his return. In the meanwhile Stark must do all he can to convince them he is only giving him a safe harbour in the North were hardly anybody has heard the southerners’ gossiping or if they did, his people follow his lead and do not give the rumours much credit. Loras Tyrell will have an easy time in Winterfell and it would be better if he goes back home only after another scandal hits the capital. He can hint at the rumours about the royal children. Perhaps coming from him she will start to believe them?” Varys gave his point of view in a flat tone.

“Then all the rumours my daughter planted about the royal children haven’t deterred her yet? My last letter from Willas Tyrell hinted at the possibility of considering Robb Stark for a marriage alliance. I really hoped my little Sandsnake had found the right ear to whisper her sweet nothings into.” Oberyn looked disappointed.

“Wait until Lady Olenna hears of the existence of Prince Aegon. We must see Margaery is firmly betrothed to Robb or someone else before our Prince reveals himself.” Varys cautioned.

Prince Oberyn just nodded his assent. “On another note, I told my brother I was planning a visit to the Wall. Maybe take Nymeria with me as well. I want to see that gigantic ice structure before I die. Prince Aegon’s descriptions have only strengthened my resolve. I came by to see if I could be of use to our Prince somewhere. I could adapt my itinerary to fit his needs. 

“Well," Varys said,” there is the issue with the Freys and the Riverlands. Communications have been muddy. Perhaps you could lend an ear here and there and see if you can gather useful information. Also you could convey some messages in person. Always the safest way. I’ll have them ready for you before you leave and the list of places to drop them off. You can then decide if I am not taking too much advantage of the situation.” The bald man grinned. “It is not often I have a princely messenger. Oh, perhaps you will meet Benjen Stark at the Wall. I would really want an unbiased report of what is really happening over there. All those second hand tales of Grumkins and Snarks are trying my nerves.” Varys shivered.

“You mean White Walkers and walking dead men.” Prince Oberyn laughed. “If I tell you, wouldn’t that count as a second hand report as well?”

“Do not forget the dead beasts”, Varys shivered. “Well, the more sources, the more believable the unbelievable.” He said matter of fact now. “But first we have to discuss the situation here at King's Landing. We really need to bring Littlefinger down soon. Can we go over the plan together and see if we missed something or if you have additional fuel to throw on this proverbial fire? " Varys unrolled a large scroll and both men studied the content.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon deals with the aftermath of his actions.  
> In the interlude Ned Stark discovers an unintentional spy at Winterfell.


	12. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon deals with the aftermath of his actions.  
> Ned discovers an unintentional spy at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some graphic descriptions of violence. Read at your own peril.

Small gifts kept arriving at the tavern for Jon. The smallfolk worshipped the ground he walked on now. Jon’s safety was no longer an issue. Even those who had been suspicious or afraid at first were soon reassured. Robb Stark’s words had turned the tide. The word of a Stark carried weight in the North. If the heir of Winterfell vouched for the young Lord who flew on a dragon, the people of the North would stand by him. His anonymity however had been harder to assure

Half a day later they had adopted Jon as one of their own. Things had escalated from there. First someone had remarked out loud how their new hero resembled Lord Eddard Stark. Next the warden of the tavern, relishing his moment in the spotlight, had let it slip that he had heard the young man mention an ‘Uncle Benjen’. It had not taken long before the consensus was that Brandon Stark must have married or bedded a woman at the Driftmark before the Rebellion, probably one with ties to the dragonriders of Old Valyria. No wonder the young man was on their side. He was one of them. Some even ventured that should the late Brandon Stark have married Jon’s mother, the young hero could actually be the rightful heir to Winterfell and not Lord Eddard Stark.

Jon’s council was at a loss for how to counter those rumours. They had talked about it with Robb but eventually they had decided to let the gossip die out. The important point was that the local population now considered Jon as a son of the North. Jon had hugged Robb and whispered a heartfelt thank you in his ear. He had vowed never to usurp his position. If their plans succeeded and he became King of the Seven Kingdoms, House Stark would always rule the North. Robb had patted his back and had jokingly asked if he could get that in writing. Jon had stayed serious and said he would be happy to do so once he was entitled to issue a royal decree. 

This pact with Robb didn’t change the situation at hand. If he dared to step outside, people flocked around him, wanting to touch him, asked him for a blessing or promises of everlasting protection. Jon was glad they would leave tomorrow. He hardly ventured outside. And if he did, he stuck close to Ghost. Sandor Clegane was his faithful shadow and together with the direwolf they discouraged everyone from approaching. Jon was getting frustrated with the entire situation. He longed for the physical presence of his dragons to help him relax. Just their mental connection from afar wasn’t enough. Jon needed to touch them, rest against Rhaegal’s flank and clear his mind by sharing his frustrations with them. The fact that he could feel their longing as well made him give in. After dark he would slip out in a disguise. Ser Barristan had already agreed to come along.

During their walk that night once they were clear of the settlement, Jon relaxed and listened to Ser Barristan’s tales about his time with his father. It was not the first time Ser Barristan had entertained him with stories about Prince Rhaegar. The man had plenty of small anecdotes of his time with the Prince that were entirely new to Jon. It had become clear that Ser Barristan had enjoyed a really close relationship with the Targaryen Prince. Listening to these tales for several sennights now, Jon slowly started to believe he had inherited some part of his father’s disposition. Ser Barristan kept mentioning it often enough.  
Jon had revealed things as well. He had described his warging ability, how he had named his dragons and direwolf and also mentioned the sennight he spent with Princess Daenerys.

However, the most fascinating tale Ser Barristan had told him during their journey across the Riverlands was a detailed description of his father’s search for prophesies relating to the northern folktale of the Long Night. When Jon mentioned to Ser Barristan what Princess Daenerys had written about this Lord of Light and his dark night full of terrors, Ser Barristan had immediately informed him that Prince Rhaegar had mentioned a prophesy of Azor Ahai and his flaming sword defeating this darkness. He had stressed that the Crown Prince had been sure these tales and prophesies were all linked somehow. His father had presumed the legend of Azor Ahai to be the Essosi version of the northern tale of the Long Night. Jon had been astonished to learn that his father had considered the possibility of himself or his one of his direct descendants being this Prince That Was Promised, the hero Azor Ahai reborn who would defeat the Darkness once again. In one of his recent letters Uncle Aemon had affirmed he knew of Prince Rhaegar’s hypothesis.

This night however Ser Barristan realised his Prince needed to relax and told him an innocent story about Prince Rhaegar playing the harp to the smallfolk out on the streets of King's Landing. And how afterwards he had redistributed the money that he had unintentionally collected, to the poor. The night’s rest amidst his dragons had done wonders for Jon’s mood. During their morning walk back to the settlement, he had mentioned Princess Daenerys once more to Ser Barristan and had asked the knight whether he would be prepared to sail to Essos and stay with the Princess as head of her entourage. 

“I would be unhappy to leave you my Prince. You are the long lost son of my dearest friend. However I am yours to command. If that is your wish, I will protect the Princess to the best of my abilities.”

“It wouldn’t be for long. Soon Dragonstone will be ours and Dany can come home to Westeros.”

Ser Barristan heard the warmth in his voice and didn’t miss the appellation. “Pardon me if I am overstepping, but are you planning on making her your Queen?”

Jon hesitated not knowing himself what the answer to the questions was.  
“I don’t know yet,” he decided to be honest. “Uncle Aemon insists on it now that there are grown dragons in the world once more. I feel uneasy and somewhat conflicted when I think about it and I certainly do not want to order her to marry against her wishes.”

“As the head of House Targaryen, it is your right to tell her who she should marry, you know that don’t you? As the rightful heir to the Iron Throne you will even be able to determine who your allies can or cannot marry. That means you could choose a bride for Robb. If you think on it, soon nobody will be able to marry anyone if you object.” Ser Barristan told his Prince.

“I’m not comfortable with that, not yet, maybe never.” Jon confessed. 

“Well, look at the upside. Nobody will be able to force you to marry against your will. You will be the King. They can only advise you but in the end you will have the last word.” Ser Barristan attempted to get back to a more relaxed atmosphere by stressing a positive aspect of Jon’s future responsibilities

“You know,” Jon smiled now, “I think I told Daenerys the exact same thing when we discussed possible marriage alliances.” The young Prince’s face regained its serious expression immediately. “About joining the Princess’ entourage, let’s discuss this with Ser Gerold. I know you were a Lord Commander to King Robert’s Kingsguard but here Ser Gerold is the indisputable Lord Commander of mine. If you have a problem with that, please let me know. If necessary I will try to come up with some other way you can serve me.”

“I have no problem with that my Prince, not at all. I am very happy I am no longer bound to King Robert and would give my right hand to be able to serve you and your family in any way you deem fit,” he reassured the young man.

 

The next morning, when they neared the settlement on their walk back, several children ran up to Jon. Ser Barristan had scanned them from afar and had allowed them to come closer. Jon ordered Ghost to remain by his side and to stay calm but vigilant. A little girl handed him flowers. Jon feeling a lot better after spending some time with his dragons welcomed the children with a smile and accepted the small bouquet. A young boy asked him where the dragons were. Encouraged by this another child asked what their names were and handed him a drawing. 

 

Jon made a show of admiring it. It was a primitive sketch of two dragons in the air and a lot of shapes that looked like ships on fire beneath them. He could recognise Rhaegal and Viserion because of the colour they had added to the small painting. Grass has been smeared on one figure and flour on the other. He held the painting in front of him so all the children that had gathered around him could see where he pointed. “This one, the green one is called Rhaegal, the silverwhite dragon is Viserion.” He handed the drawing back to the child, wished them all a nice day and made haste to reach the tavern before any adults would catch on he was there. After a good night’s rest, he felt hungry and looked forward to breaking his fast with his cousin and friends. 

Sam saw him enter and immediately gestured him to come over. Jon joined them at the table where Edric, Gendry and Robb were almost finished breaking their fast. They all greeted him with enthusiasm and acted as if it was just another day. Jon smiled. This was just what he needed. He took a bite and listened to Gendry telling Edric about the book he had just finished reading. 

_'Gendry had finished a book!'_ Jon caught Gendry’s attention and gave him a slight nod conveying a silent congratulation on his accomplishment. Gendry acknowledged it with a proud smile. All was well for now. Jon felt happy sitting here surrounded by his friends. Now he only needed to persuade Sam to stick with them. The only one who had no choice but to leave them soon would be Robb but they would make sure to stay in touch. He had already plans for Robb to come to his side once more soon enough. They were family after all.

 

Sandor stood in the corner of the common room next to Ser Oswell. Both were watching Jon break his fast with the other boys. He leaned towards his fellow guard and tempered his voice some.  
“Look at him, such an endearing boy enjoying time with his friends. To think that he sent most of those twenty fucking warships to meet their stupid drowned God all on his lonesome. The fuckers that made it out alive probably all shit their pants while they ran. We didn’t lift even need to lift our little finger. What are we dumbasses waiting for? A few more burning shows like that and the fucking Kingdoms will just fall on their knees for the boy.”

“Don’t talk like that in here. Rumours are bad enough as it is” Ser Oswell reprimanded. “Ser Gerold is anxious the four of us will not be sufficient to keep him safe here. He wants to continue our journey as soon as possible.”

“Now that’s not a bad idea.” Sandor replied. He straightened himself up and saw Jon laugh at something Robb said. _‘At least that Stark kid has come to his fucking senses and helped us deal with the people here.’_ He didn’t voice that aloud though.

 

***

 

Jon was surveying the ship with Davos. They would be leaving later that day. “Davos, can I trouble you for some advice once again?”

They had arrived at the bow of the ship and Davos sat down patting the space next to him. Jon didn’t hesitate and sat down on the familiar bench.

“Do you think our presence provoked the Ironborn to attack with such a large force? Or is it possible that this was not just a raid but an all-out attack on the North?”

“Hardly an all-out attack, Euron Greyjoy has a larger force than that. No, I imagine he wanted to cement his role as strong ruler of the Iron Islands. The rulers of the Ironborn are chosen. A birthright only gets them so far. If as we suspect Euron has deposed Balon Greyjoy, he needs to prove that he can lead them before they will fully accept him. I reckon he went for a quick win and considered your three brand new ships an adequate prize.”

“But why the Stony shore? Why not Seagard? It is closer to Pyke. Was it our presence?” he asked once more.

“I don’t think so. But do I know for sure? No Jon, I cannot help you there. Euron probably went for the easier target. If anything, you should be glad they attacked us here. You have a substantial fleet at Seagard and could have suffered great losses.”

Jon looked sideways toward the shore where Greywind and Ghost were chasing after each other.

“What are the chances he will retaliate?” Jon was worried to leave the little settlement unprotected.

“They have their own defences Jon. You’ve toured them yourself. You cannot protect every mile of Westeros personally. Anyway, I do not think he will strike at the same spot twice in a row. He will have to justify his losses. If I were him, I would not attack these shores again until I had a way to diminish the threat of the dragons. You had the element of surprise on your side this time, son. Next time they want to face you, they will come prepared.”

“I’ll put it on our agenda to discuss with Ser Gerold. I better upgrade my armour before there is a next time. A better helmet would not be remiss either. I will need to train with Rhaegal and test our limits in agility and speed. I will also speak to Gendry to see if he can design something I can hang on to when Rhaegal swoops or makes unexpected sharp turns.”

“That boy was a find, was he not?” Davos had taken a liking to Gendry from the very beginning.

“He certainly is, and not only for his excellent skills. He has his heart in the right place. An extra point in his favour is that he can become an important political ally. If Stannis has no male heirs, a simple legitimisation could make him heir to Storm's End, one loyal to us to a fault.”

Jon took a scroll out of his pocket, his voice even more serious now. “I received another message from Uncle Ned.”

“At the sound of your voice, I reckon not everything is going well in the North?” Davos probed.

“He is worried about the situation in the Riverlands. He wants to send reinforcements to the Tullys. He once more complains about Roose Bolton’s arrogance but most of all he is worried about his brother, my Uncle Benjen. Maester Aemon has sent a raven to Winterfell informing my uncle that the regular updates from the scouting party beyond the Wall have stopped.”

“No good news buried in there at all?” Davos hoped to lighten Jon’s mood somewhat and at the same time gain a bit of time to think of an appropriate response to the issues already raised.

“Well, Sansa gets more proposals than any maid in the Seven Kingdoms. And Bran has had no climbing accidents so far, if that can be considered good news.” Jon summarised.  
“Is sending northern forces to the Riverlands as Uncle Eddard proposes, a good plan?

“I do not think it can do any harm to send some support. Not too much mind you, the Riverlanders should not fear an invasion from the North. We can discuss this in our small council later today and formulate our advice to Lord Stark if necessary. About his other news, it is not your place to worry about the Boltons. That is an internal matter for the Warden of the North. Your uncle will deal with that as he has always done. If things escalate and only if he specifically asks for it, you can send him your opinion. This situation with your Uncle Benjen however, I think it is too early to worry. You told me yourself that Benjen Stark warned you that the possibility existed he would not be able to contact you for some time. Send a letter to Maester Aemon and urge him to keep you informed of every development. Inform your Targaryen uncle where you are in the North and tell him that you are actually getting closer to the Wall every day. If they need your help, all they have to do is ask.”

Jon startled. He studied Davos closely. “You would support my flying off to the Wall?”

Davos chuckled at Jon’s surprised reaction. “I have seen with my own eyes what you and your dragons can accomplish. I have also noticed you using your mind high up in the air. You followed the initial battle plan but adapted the strategy when the situation evolved. What’s more, I know how you feel about those dragons. I trust you not to risk their lives unnecessary.”

Once more Jon rested his eyes on the two direwolves. They were now lying on the beach close to one another. He was touched by Davos’ belief in him.

“You know Davos, I heard you mention the term “small council” earlier. I think it is time to solidify your position at my side. As soon as I am King, you will be Hand of the King. For now, it is just Hand of the Prince I am afraid.”

Now it was Davos’ turn to look shocked. “Jon, your Uncle, Eddard Stark will not be happy about this.”

“I’ll talk it over with him. I know he is happiest in the North. He will be a most trusted adviser and can counsel us from Winterfell. I will need my Hand firmly by my side. I do not think he will object. If he does, then I will be the first King to rule with two Hands. To quote my dear friend Sandor _‘Surely I can loosen up some dumb rule a long dead corps instated hundreds of years ago’._ “

They both laughed. Then Davos turned to Jon a solemn expression on his face.  
“I am very honoured my future King. I swear I will always serve you to the best of my abilities.”

“I know Davos, just promise not to become a sycophant. Promise me to always speak your mind, even if it means contradicting me. I just ask that when we are in company, you do so with respect. In private I give you leave to scold me like you would a naughty boy. If you do not know how to do that, I suggest you take lessons from Sandor Clegane.” 

Davos grinned although his eyes were still moist from Jon’s words. Then he became serious once more. “I promise. As I said, I will serve you to the best of my abilities, my Prince.”

“Thank you Davos, I am sure you will. Now I will retire to my cabin. I need to send a few messages out before we cast off later today.

 

Jon was finishing his letter to Uncle Aemon at the Wall when he heard a knock. He opened his door and saw Robb hesitating in the doorway a scroll in his hands. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked Jon.

“Come in, or do you prefer to talk outside?”

“No, in here is fine.” Robb entered and seated himself on a small stool. “It is from my mother.” Robb lifted the scroll up a bit. “She wants me to marry Roslin Frey.”

“What? Who is Roslin Frey and is it just your mother or does she relay your father’s wishes as well?”

“No it is just her. She got some alarming reports from a friend and said I could help father by planting the idea of this betrothal in his mind. Roslin Frey is a daughter of Walder Frey, Lord of the crossing at the Twins in the Riverlands.”

“House Frey is currently disloyal to their Lord Paramount and House Stark should reward that by giving one of them the coveted position of mother to the next heir of the North? What is your mother thinking?”

“You take the words right out of my mouth, Jon.” Robb sighed. “What worries me most about all this is that I do not think it is my mother’s idea.” At Jon’s frown he added, “Not at first anyway.”

“Someone is whispering in her ear? Who would do such a thing?”

“Littlefinger!” both boys exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged looks.

“Great minds think alike.” Robb commented. “But all joking aside if that is true, what other nonsense could he have been feeding her?”

“I hate to be the one to say this but she always behaved a bit unnatural with me. Do you remember I once told you she always went out of her way to see to my comfort during my stay at Winterfell although she didn’t really seemed to like me? When I learned who my parents were, I realised that it was just an attempt to curry favour with the future King.” He noticed Robb’s morose expression. “I am sorry Robb, but this situation requires total honesty if we want to get to the bottom of things. I have nothing against your mother. I just think she is very ambitious. All her actions are driven by this. She goes against her own feelings if it will serve her purpose. Her southern education taught her she must help her husband reach his political potential.” He tried to soften the blow for Robb by adding, “I am sure she does what she does only because she wants to help House Tully and House Stark keep their positions.”

 _“Family Duty Honour_ ,” Robb recited the words of the House Tully. “Isn’t she aware that my marrying a Frey will not help House Tully but do just the opposite?”

“If what we suspect is true, she is being manipulated by a master conniver. I think the best course of action would be to ignore this part of her letter when you respond to her and talk to your father at the first opportunity when you are back at Winterfell.”

“You are right. It doesn’t sit well with me though. It looks like we’re conspiring against her.”

“Well, your father could always put the blame on me. He can tell her he can’t marry you off without talking to me about it.” Jon deliberately planted this idea in Robb’s mind. He studied him carefully. 

“She would never go for that.” Robb didn’t get Jon’s hint.

“Robb, your father has sworn complete fealty to me when I was just twelve years old. I have the power to do just that and your mother knows that.” He held his breath. How would Robb react to this?

Robb was silent for a few moments. Then a big smile lit up his face. “That’s the best news I heard all day. Now I am sure they will not marry me off to some ugly old maid. You’ll have my back.” 

Trust Robb’s optimism to see only the bright side of things. Jon shook his head and stayed serious. “We will all have to do our duty, Robb. Even I will have to be careful whom I marry.”

Robb sobered. “Not an ugly old maid though.”

“Not if we can help it, Robb.” Jon reassured him. “Let’s hope things will work out. After all you are the dashing heir to the North. We will have all the fair maids of Westeros lining up to be your bride. Uncle Ned writes me of new proposals in every message I receive from him."

Rob blushed and dropped the subject.

“Was there anything else in your mother’s letter worth discussing?” Jon asked.

“Only the usual. Arya and Nymeria went missing for two days before she was found camping in the woods near Winterfell. Sansa dreams of marrying Prince Joffrey and becoming the Queen of all Westeros. Mother urges me to convince father to accept the King’s request. She doesn’t understand his hesitation.” Robb summarised the content of the very long letter.

“She should. She is one of the few who know that Prince Joffrey has no chance of becoming King and in the unlikely event that he does prevail, House Stark will have been exposed as traitors and will no longer be considered fit to offer him a Queen.” Jon remarked matter of fact.

“More proof she is not thinking clearly but is being manipulated. Who knows what Petyr Baelish has promised her?”

“Keep in mind there is still the possibility it could be someone else. If we guessed right though, what could possibly be the man’s endgame?” Jon had wondered about his ambitions more than once.

“Rule of course.” Robb didn’t hesitate. “Perhaps kill father and marry mother. Or Gods forbid, marry Sansa.”

“That’s taking it a bit far, Rob, even for Littlefinger.” 

“Never underestimate the man.” Robb argued. “Isn’t that the very advice Varys wrote to you in his last letter.

“It is.” Jon looked pensive. “He wrote about secret messages Baelish sent out to the Freys and the Ironborn. Is he the mastermind behind all this? The Ironborn’s attack here at the Stony Shore, the Freys’ out of character boldness?” 

Jon sealed the scrolls on his desk and rose to his feet. “I have finished here anyway. Come Robb, we will call a small meeting and discuss these developments. You will represent the North. Follow me.”

 

***

They had taken a light meal first and planned the meeting after. That turned out to be a good decision when new messages arrived during their meal. Sam and Jon immediately started to decipher them. Then they adjourned to a more private location to discuss the new developments.

One of them was a scroll from Prince Oberyn. Decrypting the Prince’s erratic code had not been easy. But the gist of the message was clear. Littlefinger had plotted with the Ironborn and Freys. Somehow House Bolton’s name had come up. Prince Oberyn suspected they could be involved as well but how and to what extent was unclear. He urged them to take every precaution. He mentioned he was on his way to visit the Wall. He would keep them informed of his whereabouts hoping they could somehow arrange for their paths to cross.

There was a short message from Winterfell, it was marked urgent. Eddard Stark wrote that Theon Greyjoy had disappeared. He hadn’t returned after a nightly visit to the brothels. He also mentioned there was still no news from his brother at the Wall. But most importantly, Ned Stark reported that King Robert had started his journey north. He asked Robb not to linger too long and make sure he returned to Winterfell well before the King’s arrival. He closed his missive stating he would send a more detailed message later.

A silence fell over the room after Sam and Jon had finished reading these messages out loud. Then suddenly everyone started talking at once. Jon tried to interrupt but didn’t succeed at first until he was helped by Davos who banged his fist on the table.

“This will get us no further. Let’s address each subject one by one. Everyone will get a chance to comment.”

“Thank you Davos.” Jon nodded his head gratefully toward his him. “For the record, I want you all to know that I have officially appointed Davos Seaworth as Hand of the Prince.” At Ser Gerold’s look he continued, “I will not tempt fate by using the other title. You can address him with all your concerns if I cannot be reached. He will coordinate and bring everything to me. Forthwith he has the authority to open all urgent messages that are addressed to me personally if I am not available. He will speak for me then.”

Not only Ser Gerold was completely blindsided, the others were surprised as well. Several started to comment, Robb being one of them. Jon stalled them with a simple hand gesture. “I have prepared scrolls to go out to our allies, they all contain my decision.” He looked at Robb. “This is the best course of action for now. Things are starting to happen. If something does not go according to plan or in times of crisis we need a clear chain of command. I’ve explained this to your father in a lengthy letter. He will understand Robb.”

Robb nodded and stayed silent.

“Please know I value you all and will always listen to your advice. I urge you to treat me as you have before. This is only a way to work together more efficiently in times of crisis and give Davos a position of authority during negotiations with outsiders. Now let’s start by discussing the repercussions the King’s imminent visit will have on our itinerary.”

The meeting resumed. By the time they parted, their journey was delayed for another day to the dismay of Ser Gerold. The additional time was needed to alter several messages before sending them out. Davos had warned them the tides would not be favourable to set out this late in the day. 

Jon decided to spend the last night on dry land with his dragons. Jon had noticed Ghost felt a little sick and had told him he could stay behind if he wanted. Ser Arthur accompanied him on the short trek. It was a clear night and Jon was talking quietly with the knight when suddenly five men appeared before them. They had chosen their place well. Jon and Ser Arthur had just reached the middle of a clearing. The five men encircled them and shouted obscene words to intimidate them. Three more appeared but stayed back enjoying the sight before them.

Ser Arthur and Jon both drew their swords. Ser Arthur spoke quickly and kept his voice low but urgent. “Jon, as I taught you, we fight back to back but leave some space between us. Take your dagger out as well. Any chance your pets could come to our rescue?”

“Last I checked the dragons were sleeping. I would need to warg into Rhaegal and that is no option now. Ghost stayed behind because … oh, do you think someone tampered with his food or drink?”

“Jon! To your right!” A big man slashed at Jon’s right side. Jon raised his sword just in time to block the attack. The man approaching from the left got a taste of Dawn. Ser Arthur had already crippled one man. ‘Good, maybe we still stand a chance’, Jon thought.

Seeing his own opponent swing at him Jon ducked slightly and leapt to the left. Simultaneously he thrust Blackfyre forward at an angle allowing him to slip past the man’s breastplate and pierce his skin. The man roared and backed away. Immediately another took his place. Jon had to use his dagger to stop the initial attack. He ducked under the man’s arm and slashed at his hamstrings. Boiled leather was no match for Valyrian steel and the man fell. Jon adjusted his position to once more defend Ser Arthur’s back. He saw the knight was valiantly fighting with his sword in both arms now, his dagger nowhere in sight. Ser Arthur’s right arm seemed a bit stiff. Nevertheless the knight deflected their swings and parried without the attackers getting a single hit in. 

The smug looks had disappeared from their enemy’s faces when they saw how well their targets were responding to the ambush. They changed tactics and attacked simultaneously.  
Two men advanced on Jon. With Ser Arthur at his back, Jon realised they had him cornered. He focused all his attention on blocking the strikes, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, swaying left and right to maintain enough distance to deflect the swords away from his body. Jon was getting desperate. He chose the more skilled strokes that came in handy against an opponent with greater strength than him but he had yet to find a big enough opening to do some real damage. 

Without really looking for it his eyes caught a sigil on one of his opponent’s breast plates. _‘Ironborn_ ’, Jon realised and needed all his mental strength to keep his focus. He was still keeping them at bay but his mind was desperately trying to come up with a strategy to defeat two heavy swordsmen without much room to manoeuvre. Despite the noise the clashing swords made, he could hear Ser Arthur's heavy panting behind him.  
The two Ironborn kept coming at him. Jon started to sweat profusely. He rushed blocks to evade their attacks but his movements were filled with lethargy now. His sword that usually felt so light in his hands now seemed almost too heavy for him to wield. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they overpowered him. Suddenly Jon felt a nudge in his mind. “Ghost!” he called at the top of his lungs. 

A man laughed. “You’ll be one soon”. Both men stepped forward and sliced at him. Jon barely managed to block the left man’s swing and he felt the tip of the Kraken’s sword cut his leathers while he dodged the second man’s attack by throwing himself on the ground. He tried to roll over and get up again but he wasn’t fast enough. He felt the big man grab one of his legs. Ser Arthur fought valiantly but his two opponents were impeding him from helping his Prince, a third at the ready to take over if need be. 

_'If only Ser Arthur could wield two swords.'_ Jon once more cursed his stupidity that had caused the knight to get wounded. Somehow, his frustration gave him extra energy and he managed to kick his free leg in the man’s face but his opponent just laughed at his desperate action. His partner raised his sword to deliver the final blow while Jon was still swerving wildly in an attempt to liberate his leg from the iron grip and avoid the killing blow.

All of a sudden white fur flashed before Jon’s eyes and the man swinging at Jon had his throat ripped out before he even realised the direwolf was there. Jon used this moment of confusion to get out of his predicament and got back up, Blackfyre once more at the ready. 

Ghost stood between Jon and his attackers now. They had their swords pointed at the direwolf to discourage the beast from jumping them as well. Ghost snarled at them, blood still dripping from his mouth. While the men were exchanging terrified glances, Jon turned around and faced the two men still fighting Ser Arthur. He had to be careful not to fall over the corpses at his feet. He swung at the man closest to him and cut the Ironborn’s sword arm with his second stroke. The man’s sword fell to the ground. Jon had no qualms opening the man’s throat a second later. His survival instinct had long since kicked in. The man died instantly. Jon didn’t waste time and turned around once more, trusting Ser Arthur’s ability to face his remaining opponent.

Ghost stood there dripping with blood. A second man lay at his feet with a gash in his throat. Jon could hear him slowly drowning in his own blood. He swiftly finished him off by piercing his heart with Blackfyre. He scanned the area. Apart from the men lying on the ground, the clearing was empty. Those still capable of walking had fled the scene. 

Jon immediately went over to Ser Arthur who was sitting on the ground, encircled by corpses. “Are you all right? You are bleeding! Why didn’t you tell me your sword arm hadn’t healed completely yet? You were unable to wield Dawn with one hand from the very beginning of the fight.”

“I’m sorry my Prince. He looked at his arm and saw it was bleeding profusely. Jon had noticed this as well and tore a piece of cloth from his tunic but Ser Arthur stopped him. “We should move somewhere safer first. How far away are your dragons?” 

Jon closed his eyes and searched for them. They both were sleeping. He concentrated and warged into Rhaegal to wake him up. 

“They are on their way.” He helped Ser Arthur to get up and they left the bodies behind as they walked to a big three at the edge of the clearing. “Now let me stop the bleeding and treat your arm. Is this still the same wound from the pirate attack? How is that possible?”

Ser Arthur sighed. “Approximately two sennights ago, it reopened during a rather intense training session. I had hoped it would be okay by now.”

“Let the Maester tend to it properly and no more fighting with that right arm before he gives you explicit permission. When it is halfway healed, you can start to train with your left arm for a while. I have seen you do it before.” Jon suggested.

Both dragons swooped down and interrupted the conversation. Jon reassured them he was okay and thanked them for coming here to guard them. “I am going to warg back into Rhaegal to see where the men have run off to. I want to know where they are headed.” He warned Ser Arthur.

“They were Ironborn, my Prince. What more do you need to know?” Ser Arthur felt exhausted all of a sudden. The adrenaline rush was fading quickly and the pain in his arm flared up.

“I want to prevent them from getting reinforcements. I also do not want them to know about Ghost or our ancestral swords. The less they know about our strengths the better. I would prefer that they cannot report back to Euron Greyjoy what precisely happened here. I reckon it is better to keep him guessing.” Jon had finished tying up the wound during his explanation.

He sat back and was ready to warg when Ser Arthur protested. “My Prince, I cannot protect you sufficiently during a long warg session in my condition. Better you ride Rhaegal yourself. You’ll be a lot safer high up in the air than here on the ground with me.”

Jon looked conflicted at leaving a weakened Ser Arthur alone. 

“I’ll be fine Jon. Besides you’ll be back in no time. They cannot have gotten far.” Ser Arthur concentrated on keeping his voice firm voice and his gaze firmly fixed on his Prince. Rhaegal simply lowered his wing making his opinion obvious.

“Viserion, burn those corpses in the middle of the clearing but make sure not to set the forest on fire.” The dragon seemed only too happy to oblige.  
“Ghost, guard Ser Arthur.” Jon commanded. He climbed on his dragon and flew off.

Not much later Jon was back. He sat down next to Ser Arthur who hadn’t moved an inch and was still leaning against the big tree. He carefully lowered himself next to the knight and told him what he had done. Only three men had made it out of the clearing alive. Since two of them were wounded, they had been making slow progress.  
“I saw a small rowing boat on the beach but didn’t search to coastline to check if a ship was hidden somewhere. I went back and incinerated both, the boat and the men. Somehow I could not find it in me to be merciful. I felt the same during the latter part of the fight.” He turned to Ser Arthur a guilty expression on his face. “Should I be worried? Is this the beginning of the Targaryen madness? Fire and Blood?”

“Jon, during a fight a man’s blood gets up. It was a gruelling fight to the death. You had no choice but to be ruthless. You will just have to make sure you rein in your temper and carefully evaluate the circumstances at hand. Each situation will be different. In this case I am not sorry these men are dead. They would have shown us no mercy either.”

“Still they were wounded and fleeing. I was not in mortal danger at that particular time.”

“They had it coming, my Prince. Besides, you explained yourself why it was a good strategy. Ser Gerold will confirm this during the inevitable debriefing.”

Jon sighed and stayed quiet.

“You fought well, Jon. I do not know many swordsmen who would have been able to stave off several larger warriors coming at them simultaneously for as long as you did. I reckon your muscles will be sore in the morning.”

Jon did not respond. After a while he turned his attention to Ghost who lay quietly at his feet. “Hey boy, thanks for saving my life! How are you feeling? Jon nudged his mind and felt a slight nausea still lingering in Ghost. “I appreciate you coming all the way to help me. Do you think you can assist us once more? Can you bring a few men with weapons here, men from our pack?” Ghost licked Jon’s hand, got up and ran off.

Jon saw Ser Arthur having trouble to keep his eyes open. He knew the knight would not want to fall asleep before help arrived and searched for a neutral topic of conversation. His eyes fell on the unique colouring of the knight’s sword. “Why is the metal of your sword so pale? I thought Valyrian steel was usually darker.”

Ser Arthur took the sword in his left hand and studied it proudly. “That’s because it is not made of Valyrian steel. Dawn was forged from the metal of a ‘fallen star’. It is as strong and sharp as Valyrian steel but it is one of a kind. I think your history lessons have been remiss my Prince. Dawn is the most famous sword in all of Westeros.”

“Perhaps the Maester didn’t teach me because he presumed you would prefer to explain that to me yourself?” 

“If that is the case then I must remedy this at once. Legend has it that the Dornish founder of House Dayne followed a falling star to where it hit the ground. At that exact spot, he raised his castle and called it Starfall. The metal of the star was forged into this beautiful sword which is named “Dawn” as you already know. It is the ancestral sword of House Dayne and he who wields it is given the title of “Sword of the Morning”. But unlike other ancestral swords, this sword is not automatically passed down from father to eldest son. It can only be held by a member of House Dayne who proves himself worthy of the honour of wielding it by displaying tremendous skill at swordsmanship.”

“And if no one is eligible?” Jon was clearly intrigued.

“Then the sword will not have an owner until a new generation of House Dayne yields a worthy owner for Dawn.” Ser Arthur explained.

“So it is not sure that Edric will inherit your sword?” Jon knew his friend admired Dawn.

“Have you ever wondered why my nephew has been staying with us for so long? He is heir to Starfall and I am sure his aunt Allyria asks for his return in every message he receives from Dorne. He prefers to train under my tutelage. You must understand that he has grown up with this legacy and wants nothing more than one day to be considered worthy of wielding our legendary sword.” 

The green dragon stretched his neck and nudged Jon’s shoulder. Jon looked at Ser Arthur to see his reaction to being so close to the dragon but Ser Arthur had dosed off. He must have lost more blood than I thought. He was glad now he had not left him and had decided to just send Ghost for help.

He slowly scratched the scales on Rhaegal's cheek. “You were amazing as always Rhaegal. Viserion you were as well." He checked the small fires that had almost died down. He petted the silverwhite dragon. “Do you mind staying here with us for a while? Keep us safe until help arrives?” Both dragons nestled themselves in a wide circle. Ser Arthur and Jon were safely ensconced in the middle. Jon leaned into Rhaegal’s flank and closed his eyes. He could rest a bit as well. The dragons would look out for them. 

 

***

 

“Why didn’t you take at least two guards along?” Davos asked him. Davos and his entire Kingsguard were sitting in their usual meeting room in the tavern. Jon was the only one left answering questions. Ser Arthur had been obligated to leave the room a few moments before at the insistence of the Maester who had overruled Ser Gerold, firmly stating no debriefing could be more important than saving the knight’s sword arm. At least Ghost lay loyally at Jon’s feet so he did not feel entirely deserted.

“I reckoned one guard was sufficient when I visit my dragons.” Jon realised he had been careless. 

Davos turned to Ser Gerold. “Didn’t you double security after the Ironborn attack? And why the hells was Ghost not there from the beginning?”

Ghost lifted his head and whined quietly.

“Ghost felt sick.” Jon defended his loyal direwolf. “I told him it was okay to stay behind. It is possible someone tampered with his food or drink on purpose. I could sense how nauseous he was.”

“All the more reason to double your guard.” Davos looked over to Ser Gerold. The man looked as guilty as if he had committed treason.”

“I apologise, my Prince. I was so busy arranging the security for the next few days that I didn’t check your plans for this night. I just assumed you were staying in the building where the risk of an attack was small. I should have checked.”

“And I should have mentioned it to you.” Jon assumed part of the guilt “Let’s learn from this and move forward. I am worried about Ser Arthur’s arm. Did you know he had re-injured it a while back and it hadn’t healed completely? He used both hands to wield Dawn even before his wound reopened.”

Ser Gerold looked at Ser Oswell who just shrugged his shoulders. Sandor straightforward as always was the one to speak up. “Should have known the guy was not just teaching us clumsy fools by letting us spar amongst ourselves or with the boys while he just watched from the side lines. When he corrected me for overextending my fucking backswing, I accused him of being a lazy fucker. Should have realised he was still hurt.” Sandor shook his head feeling really stupid.

Davos gave Jon a once over. “Are you all right my Prince?”

“I might have a sore knee come morning. It got twisted during battle. I told you how a strong man gripped my leg. The rest of my injuries are not worth mentioning, just a small cut and some bruises.” Jon stretched his leg carefully showing them all the swelling around his knee.

“Have it looked at by the Maester as soon as he is finished tending to Ser Arthur.” Davos made Jon promise.

Ser Gerold spoke up. “I insist we still leave as planned tomorrow but not at first light. Davos, I trust the tide will still be favourable if we leave a bit later?”

“Yes, as long as we leave before noon, we should be okay.” Davos affirmed.

“Sandor, Ser Barristan can you take over guard duty from Ser Arthur and see to it that Blackfyre and Dawn are cleaned and made battle ready again? Have Gendry check both swords first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I will care for Blackfyre myself. I’ll have ample time since I will not be able to sleep before I know Ser Arthur is alright.” Jon was quick to say.

“Do not tarry too long. And keep in mind I will want a play by play tomorrow, my Prince. You, Ser Arthur and I will analyse this at length. But for now, know I am proud of your fighting prowess. Ser Arthur assured me you did well.” He patted Jon’s shoulder and sighed wearily. “I’ll retire now. I plan to get up early so I can be the one to release Sandor and Ser Barristan from their duties before dawn.

Jon just nodded, sat down and started to clean Blackfyre with an oiled cloth. The slow long swipes calmed his mind. He kept at it for a long time.

 

***

 

The next morning Jon had trouble keeping up with the fuss his friends were making. They were sorry they had missed the commotion last night and were talking about it animatedly, exaggerating and even playacting parts of it. The survivor elation from last night had left Jon. He felt exhausted and terribly guilty. Normally he would go and talk to Davos but Jon didn’t think Davos would have much experience with the feelings he was struggling with. He looked up and considered Ser Oswell. The knight clearly had guard duty and was very alert. It was better not to distract him with a difficult conversation.

**

Sam noticed his distress and nudged Robb. When Robb gave Sam his attention, Sam looked pointedly at Jon. Robb immediately got with program. He left Gendry and Edric to their lively discussion and went over to Jon. Soon both boys were leaving the common room, supposedly to help each other pack. Jon leaned on Robb a bit to spare his sore knee.

They stopped at Jon’s room. Ser Oswell opened the door so his Prince could keep his grip on Robb. Jon sighed when he lowered himself to the bed. He moved backwards until he sat up with his back against the headrest of the bed, a bunch of furs supporting his bad knee.

“Is it the pain in your knee that is affecting your mood or is something else troubling you?” Robb decided not to waste time with small talk.

“My knee hurts somewhat when I put weight on it for sure but what do you mean when you mention my mood?”

“I know you think you’re handsome when you brood, but now you are overdoing it and it is spoiling your looks. I can’t have you destroy our reputation of most handsome cousins in the North now, can I?” Robb tried a teasing tone. “Did something else happen last night?”

Jon was silent for a few moments. When he spoke up he sounded tentative. “Robb, have you ever killed someone?”

“You know I have.” Robb frowned. “I wrote you about the ambush last year when I was out hunting with Theon.“

“That was clearly a case of self-defence. Have you ever taken a life when there was no direct threat?” He amended his earlier question.

“That occasion was the first and only time I killed someone thus far.” Robb stiffened. “What are you trying to tell me, Jon?”

Jon’s heart pounded wildly but he wanted to tell someone. He really needed to hear someone else absolve him of this guilt. He took a deep breath. “Last night, when our attackers gave up, the three men still alive fled in the direction of the beach. I called Rhaegal and flew after them. I destroyed their small rowing boat and burned the three men before they could join their ship. Two of them were wounded. I killed three men and it was not in a fair fight, Robb.” He hunched his shoulders and lowered his head not wanting to witness Robb’s potential disgust.

Robb slowly installed himself on the other end of Jon's bed and faced him. “Why?” he just asked staying very calm.

Jon looked up now. He was surprised nothing more was forthcoming. Whatever he had expected, Robb’s patient reaction and willingness to let Jon explain himself further was not it. His subconscious was clearly still struggling with Robb’s initial reaction to his parentage. However this was a different Robb. Actually this was the same Robb who had suddenly pulled a 180 and defended Jon to the smallfolk at the Stony Shore. He decided to make a conscious effort to trust his cousin unconditionally once more. The friend he had always known and loved was back again.

Jon repeated what he had discussed with Ser Arthur last night. “It was a calculated move on my part to weaken the enemy, prevent them from revealing our whereabouts and sending others to finish the job, as well as reporting other intelligence. For example the fact that we have skilled fighters, more than decent swords and a dangerous direwolf.” 

“Sounds reasonable enough,” Robb retorted. “It still doesn’t explain the ugly brooding.”

“I can’t prevent myself from feeling guilty. I keep second guessing my actions of last night.” Jon admitted. He felt relieved however. The knot in his stomach had loosened a bit.

“Well let me repeat the platitude my father spouted after my first kill. You should be worried the day you don’t feel anything when you kill someone. He says he still feels guilty every time he takes a life no matter how justified his actions are.”

“That does make me feel a bit better, Robb. Thanks.” Jon’s lips even turned upwards a bit.

Robb rose from the bed. “Now about packing our things, do you need help or can you fend for yourself?”

“I have it in hand. Thanks again Robb.”

“Always,” Robb said and left the room adding in the doorway, “You should thank Sam as well.”

Jon watched the empty doorway mulling over Robb’s cryptic last words.

 

****

 

A few days later Jon sat on the bench at the bow of the deck. Ser Oswell was his faithful shadow this time, but it didn’t take long for the familiar figure of Davos Seaworth to appear next to him.

“I see you are wise enough to dress appropriately.” Davos opened the conversation. Jon had indeed enveloped himself in a wide coat with a broad fur collar. A harsh wind was blowing and it had gotten decidedly colder. They had been heading further north and were slowly approaching Sea Dragon Point. They would make a short stop there just to make contact with the outside world. Jon hoped he would at least get word from Maester Aemon about Uncle Benjen. They also expected updates from their allies in different parts of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“How is your knee? Ser Barristan mentioned you were walking around without a limp this morning.” 

“Much better thank you. I am not yet able to run at full speed or make a sudden left turn, but I’m getting there. I am still excused from sword practice.”  
Jon looked up when he heard the warning bell from the lookout in the crow’s nest. Davos took out his spyglass and searched the direction the boy high up in mast was pointing towards.

A ship approached them from the port side. “It is a single ship.” Davos informed Jon. “It is coming toward us at full speed. It won’t be long before we can see a banner or a sigil on a sail.”

“Just the one ship?” Jon looked relieved. “Then they will not intend to attack. Perhaps they are in need of assistance?”

Davos kept his spyglass trained on the approaching vessel. “Ser Oswell, alert Ser Gerold. It is an Ironborn ship.” 

“Is it Euron’s sigil or the normal golden kraken on a black field?” Jon wanted to know.

Davos handed him the spyglass. "Look for yourself Jon, I am loath to admit it but there is the possibility your eyesight is better than mine." He stood behind Jon and pointed the spyglass in the right direction.

“It is a golden kraken. So chances are it is not Euron. Wait, they are raising another flag, a white flag Davos. Why would they surrender to us if we are not attacking?”

“Well usually in these situations we allow a sloop to approach and after some shouting decide whether or not to allow a small delegation to climb on board to negotiate.”

“You know, I would like to have my own spyglass, a small one that fits easily in my pocket. Yours came in very handy when I was high up in the air during Euron Greyjoy’s attack. “

Before Davos could reply Ser Gerold was there.  
“Fill me in.” Ser Gerold commanded his voice brusque. He was breathing profusely. He had clearly run the entire way. Sandor, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell arrived on deck as well.

“A single Ironborn ship is approaching fast. It just hoisted a white flag. We suspect it is not aligned with Euron Greyjoy.” Davos briefly summarised.

“Sandor, see to it that the chief mate signals our other ships. I want everyone at their battle positions. You are responsible for our crew. We will take no chances. Davos, I want everyone with spyglasses keeping an eye on that ship. Notify me of the slightest movement. And as soon as you can count the number of persons visible on deck, I want to know as well. ”

“My Prince, alert your friends and keep Ghost at your side at all times. I would like very much for you to stay inside until we know more.” 

“I’ll be up on the bridge but will stay near the doorway, mostly out of sight. That way I will still be able to assess the situation myself.” Jon stood his ground.

Ser Gerold nodded and sighed when he saw his Prince disappear inside. ‘Why did we ever consent to this damned journey?’

 

 

**Interlude 12: Unintended betrayal**

 

Catelyn Stark was confused. Petyr had sent her such disturbing messages lately. Now he urged Robb to marry Roslin Frey. What was that all about? The Freys and the Tullys didn’t get along. He had lived in the Riverlands and knew that. The Freys were cowards, manipulating thieving cowards. Catelyn hated the toll she had to pay each time she passed through the Twins when she went to visit her kin. I didn’t help her one bit that she was the daughter of their Lord Paramount. They insisted on charging an exorbitant fee for her crossing each and every time. Besides, could you imagine seeing her handsome son married to an ugly Frey? No, she didn’t understand Petyr at all this time. What’s more, he even hinted at a betrothal between Sansa and Domeric Bolton. As if she would let her innocent Sansa join such a cruel house. Had Petyr given up on the betrothal of Sansa and Prince Joffrey? Did he know something that hadn’t reached her ears yet? Surely King Robert had not already promised the Crown Prince’s hand to another fair maiden?

Life at Winterfell was getting complicated. First there was this vile Ironborn ward they had been ordered to take in. He had taken Robb to visit a brothel when her son had not yet celebrated his fourteenth nameday. The Kraken was arrogant, vulgar and extremely disrespectful sometimes. No, she didn’t like him at all. When she complained to Ned about it, he just shrugged and said there was nothing he could do. As long as the King considered him a hostage, Ned would have to do his duty. 

Then there was that entire business with his nephew. That was a hornet’s nest if ever there was one. Thanks to that situation, Ned was hesitant to betroth her Sansa to Prince Joffrey. If not for the existence of the Targaryen, Sansa could be Queen. One day she had been so frustrated that she had betrayed her ambition to Ned and asked him straight out why he did not simply betroth Sansa to Jon Targaryen if he was so sure the boy would be King one day. Ned had just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent. 

Theoretically Robb had already reached a marriageable age. She knew for a fact that Ned received countless betrothal proposals but as far as she was aware, he hadn’t accepted a single one. It was vexing. Petyr was right, her husband hadnot the slightest sliver of ambition. Perhaps she should have listened to him all these years ago but she had stood by her husband like a lovesick puppy. Now she was not that sure anymore that she had made the right decision. Even the message suggesting he could be named Hand of the King if Lord Arryn died, filled Ned with dread. Not because he would mourn the loss of his foster father but because her husband didn’t want to become Hand of the King. He didn’t want to live in King's Landing. Catelyn on the other hand would love nothing better. She was confident her children would thrive there. Well perhaps not Arya, but she was still young. Sansa and Robb could make excellent matches in the capital. 

Well, she was only the Lady of Winterfell and had to obey her Lord Husband. She sighed. Ned had become more distant after the birth of Rickon. The Maester had warned her after that difficult birth that the chances she would deliver another healthy child and come out of it alive herself were slim. Ned had comforted her by declaring that his three sons and two daughters were a greater blessing than he ever would have dared ask from the Gods. He had started to sleep in his own room, at first not to disturb her sleep because of the baby that hindered her night’s rest, but later he had used the excuse of working late, lots of meetings and visits from his bannermen. Ned had started to travel more surveying several projects in his large Kingdom. Slowly but surely he had grown more distant. She had retreated into her cold southern manners and he had changed back into the quiet solemn man of the first year of their marriage, one who confided in her less and less.

Catelyn blamed Jon or Prince Aegon for that matter. Of course she hadn’t uttered a word to Petyr about all this. She wasn’t stupid. She preferred her own head firmly fixed on her body but she had sent him little titbits about Ned’s reluctance to leave the North. The amount of trouble he went through to keep the North’s strength up and several other little details Petyr often enquired about. Lately he had become increasingly interested in the whereabouts of Ned and Benjen. In his last letter he had even asked a lot of questions about Robb. She had always trusted Petyr but now she was starting to get wary.  
However he had written her that if she got Robb to marry Roslin Frey, that she, Catelyn Stark and not her husband the all and mighty Warden, could take full credit for restoring the peace to the Riverlands and help her family who had gotten themselves into trouble by demanding unreasonable things from their vassal house. Littlefinger had suggested the King could take away the Tully's status of ruling house if the troubles persisted.

She looked outside. The sun was slowly losing its heat. It was time to fetch her daughters and visit the Sept.

 

“Why do I always have to visit the Sept with you when Robb, Bran and Rickon do not have to? They can visit the Godswood. I like the Godswood better. Even Jon worships the old Gods mother.” Arya protested.

Ever since Arya had returned from her forbidden trip to the Stony Shore, she talked of nothing but Jon and his direwolf or Jon and his cool friends. Arya would be the death of her. If only she had been a boy, then her attitude could be explained. But no, it was up to her to make a Lady out of Arya, a Lady suitable to marry an important Lord to improve the connections of House Stark, not that Ned seemed bothered with that. He indulged Arya, turned a blind eye when Robb included her in the sword lessons he sometimes gave Bran and Rickon when the Master at Arms was too busy. When Catelyn dared to protest he just waved her concerns away and ordered her to let Arya be. She was just as his sister Lyanna, a female wolf of Winterfell. Ned had such an endearing look on his face when he talked about his sister. Yet Catelyn didn’t want Arya to become a second Lyanna. The Gods forbid!

She saw Arya looking up at her expectantly. Apparently her prolonged silence had given the child the hope she wouldn’t have to pray to the Seven today. Catelyn was tired of fighting this uphill battle with Arya. She relented for now. She would pick her fight with this child when it really mattered. She would find her a husband capable of handling her.

“Off you go then. The Gods will only hear prayers from people who are truthful in their beliefs. But I will inspect your room later and I will punish you if it is not in pristine condition,” she added to sour Arya’s victory. “Come on Sansa, I belief the Gods have waited long enough.”

Sansa followed her mother like a docile sheep. Catelyn didn’t suspect that Sansa envied Arya her freedom. Sansa just didn’t like to contradict her mother. She hated conflicts and always tried to keep the peace. So she put her own wishes and feelings aside for now, but one day…

Arya ran off before her mother could change her mind. Not seeing where she ran she bumped into Lady Brienne of Tarth.

“Hey watch where you are going.” The lady admonished. 

“I am sorry.” Arya was genuinely sorry. “She admired Lady Brienne greatly. Loras Tyrell had told her that Lady Brienne had bested more than one knight in single combat. She had been a sworn sword to a Prince but Loras wouldn’t tell her why she wasn’t any longer.

“I was looking for you actually,” Brienne of Tarth said to Arya.

“For me? Not another chore please?” Arya pleaded.

“Well, if you consider it a chore, take it up with your father, girl. He wants me to teach you to fight. I am to give you daily lessons.”

“For real, fight with a sword?” Arya looked at Brienne disbelief shining out of her big eyes.

“Sword, bow, dagger and whatever I deem necessary.” Brienne was convinced Arya would be a most eager pupil.

“Mother agreed to that?” Hope now filled the young girl’s features.

“I have my orders from your father. I think he trumps your mother.” Lady Brienne raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Can we start today?” Arya was getting excited now. No more stolen moments when Robb could spare the time. Robb had not been home for ages and as a consequence she had not had any real training since that short session with Jon at the Stony Shore.

“We will go to the armoury and gather everything you need. It will be getting dark soon anyway. We start tomorrow morning. I must warn you though; I do not know how long I will be at Winterfell. However for the time being, you’ll be getting daily lessons in the morning. We will meet every day after breakfast. I have cleared it with your father. He will arrange your other lessons to start after our session when you have freshened up and put on some decent clothes.”

“Will you still train with Loras?” Arya asked.

“Of course, Loras and I need to stay in shape. Hopefully we can both return south soon. Perhaps I can serve his father.”

“Why can’t you serve here in the North, or better even serve Jon? He has knights in his service. Perhaps he can make you a knight as well.”

“Who is that? I haven’t met a Jon here at Winterfell?” Brienne asked.

“Jon Celtigar, he is kind of my adopted brother. It was him Robb and I visited at the Stony Shore. Robb is still there. Jon can fight really well. Robb says he has the best teachers in the entire realm in his service. Not one but three highly skilled knights. I do not think you would be able to beat Jon. Robb says he can’t. I am sure you would love to spar with those three knights.” Arya told her, the excitement evident in her speech.

“When I have the opportunity to speak to your Lord Father again, I will ask him about that.” Brienne now realised that the object of the girl’s hero worship was none other than the peculiar Jon Celtigar she had encountered in the Riverlands a few moons ago. She doubted the man would be looking for a lady protector having met the three former Kingsguards he had surrounded himself with not to mention the formidable Sandor Clegane. She clearly remembered how exited she had been when they had allowed her to join a sparring session with them one morning shortly before they had to part because she would follow Benjen Stark to Riverrun. She had relished the opportunity and had learned several new moves.

Of course she had not been able to beat any of the knights. She had lasted a bit longer against Sandor Clegane, but only because she had used a few dirty tricks. Her ego had been hurt by the brevity of her previous bouts and she had been desperate for a win by then. She hadn’t won against Sandor Clegane either in the end. The man however had shaken her hand and had declared her a bonny fighter. Jon Celtigar had come up and congratulated her. He had laughed and informed her that this was the first time he had ever heard Sandor use such a pretty word.

“Celtigar is not a Northern name?” This young man had intrigued her from the very first moment that she had met him and his direwolf. She was eager to find out why he was such a close friend to House Stark. When Arya had mentioned the term adopted brother her mind had conjured up his image and she had to admit that he somewhat resembled Arya.

“He normally lives at the Driftmark but he is travelling now.” Arya replied absentmindedly. She was picking up all kind of fighting tools and armour and putting them down again. Brienne helped her select the pieces that would best suit her height. Arya accepted them gratefully. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning.

Brienne let her off the hook for now but would make sure to get Arya to talk about this Jon some more in the future..

 

***

 

That night at the dinner table Arya hugged her father. “Thanks, father,” she whispered her little arms clinging to him. Ned smiled indulgently. “You welcome, Arya. You can thank me by paying attention and obeying Lady Brienne’s orders, even if she makes you repeat a move a hundred times.”

Arya’s smile only grew wider at hearing her father’s statement. “That’s exactly how Jon said he learned to fight and Jon is the best.”

Ned returned her smile and wished she wouldn’t grow up too fast. He felt Catelyn touching his arm and turned his attention to her. “What was that all about?” He heard her ask, the dismay apparent in her tone.

“Arya will be given formal fight training starting tomorrow. As long as Lady Brienne of Tarth is here she will oblige us by performing this service for us. It is how she will earn her upkeep for the time being. I’m still looking into an official position for Loras. I hope Robb will return soon. He can shadow my son in his duties around Winterfell.”

“How can I make Arya a fitting wife for a Lord if you train her like a warrior?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Haven’t you ever heard of Prince Oberyn’s daughters? They are some of the fiercest fighters yet their beauty and elegance is well known.”

Catelyn looked appalled at that. “You mean that Dornish Prince with his eight bastards? You dare compare my daughter’s prospects with these bastards?!”

“Keep your voice down woman. This is no conversation for the dinner table.” He softened his tone. “I am sorry, it is just …,” he tried again. “Never mind, perhaps you would be willing to join me in my study after dinner? I have received some scrolls and there might be things of interest to you in there.”

“Request for betrothals?” Catelyn’s mood brightened immediately.

“Aren’t there always? Yes, amongst other things. Has Sansa told you about that new book she is reading?” Ned thought it wise to bring up a neutral subject.

 

Later in his study, he sipped from his ale and waited patiently until his wife had settled herself and arranged her frock around her to her satisfaction. He offered her a glass of wine but she refused politely. He didn't insist any further. Best she kept a clear head.

“Lord Arryn died as you already know. The King is looking for a new Hand.” Ned saw Catelyn eyes widen in interest. “I have received a scroll announcing his visit. He is coming to Winterfell. I do not have to spell out what that means.”

“Will you accept, Ned? Will we live in King's Landing?” Catelyn tried to hide her excitement but didn’t really succeed.

“I will accept but mind you, I intend to wait a few days before I give him my decision. You must promise me not to reveal anything beforehand.” His voice had taken on the now familiar authority.

“Why would you do that, Ned?”

“Because I want to be in a strong position when I refuse to give my consent to an immediate betrothal between Prince Joffrey and Sansa. I will stall as long as I have to. If ever I am forced to give him a definite answer concerning the betrothal, it will be a refusal. Do not doubt that Catelyn.”

“Would it be so terrible to betroth them?” Catelyn tried.

“She is too young. Besides you know that Prince Joffrey will never be King. Why would you insist on this betrothal? You just have to trust me when I say there are other things in play. Things I’d rather not tell you yet. It is too dangerous with the entire royal court coming here.”

“You have worked yourself in a real bind here, Ned. Do you thing I like being the wife of a traitor all because of a single baby? Sometimes I hate the fact that he exists. You have lived most of your life in the shadows because of that boy.”

“Enough woman! You do not know what you are talking about. First of all, do not speak that way of my royal nephew in my presence ever again. He will be your King sooner than you know it. Furthermore, you should know that Joffrey Baratheon isn’t worthy to kiss Sansa’s feet. You will soon see for yourself what kind of person he is. That’s all I am going to say on this subject for now.”

Even though her husband was in a bad mood, Catelyn didn’t give in and defended her point of view. “You are spoiling all our children’s chances. Do you know what it has come to? Do you know what Petyr suggested? He counsels that our Robb, the heir to the North, should marry a Frey.” In her frustration and anger she betrayed the very thing she had kept a secret for all these years.

“Petyr? You mean Lord Baelish? Littlefinger? What has he to do in this discussion? Do not tell me woman that you have been corresponding with that man behind my back.” Ned was getting angrier with every word his wife uttered.

“What if I have? He is my friend. We grew up together.” She defended herself. 

“He is a social climber, a leech, a conniver. If you only knew what plots we have had to thwart that were instigated by ‘your friend’ over the years. He would see us all beheaded if he could gain anything by it. Gods woman, that man is dangerous. Lord Reed has helped us escape several of his assassination attempts, most of them against me. Once he even targeted Robb at a time that he was still our only heir.”

“I do not believe you. Petyr is our friend. You must be mistaken.” A bit of doubt was creeping into her voice though.

“He is no friend of mine and you know that very well. Why else would you conceal your correspondence from me during all these years? How did you send your letters? Does he send you messengers? Are there spies in Winterfell I should know of?”

“No! I just had to leave them in a secret spot in Wintertown. Petyr had someone pick them up. I do not know who or when. Each time I went to the market I would check for a new message.” She looked really guilty now. 

“I want you to go and retrieve each and every letter he has ever written to you. Do not even think to hide a single one from me. I want you to go and fetch them now.” He studied her and saw the recalcitrant look upon her face. “Better still, I will come with you. Then you will proceed to tell me every little piece of information you have fed him. To think the spy we were looking for in Winterfell could have been you! Do you realise what you have done, woman?” He had stopped every effort to reign in his temper and wasn’t sorry for intimidating her.

“Ned you are scaring me.” She pleaded openly now.

“I am scaring you? You are scaring the wits out of me! Catelyn, you have no idea what that man has done over the years.” He literally dragged her out of the room.

Ned thought he had known what to expect but the amount of scrolls Catelyn presented him with defied his imagination. “Hells woman, did he write to you every moon during our entire marriage? There must be almost two hundred messages here. Did you send a reply each time?”

“No, I skipped sometimes. You will notice when you read his letters. He often complained he did not hear from me often enough. He also implied he wrote as often to Lysa and she always replied.”

“Can you point me to the most recent ones? I will read those first.” Ned was at a loss. He still couldn’t believe his eyes.

Catelyn complied keeping a wary eye on her husband while he read Littlefinger’s latest messages.

He asks quite a lot of you. Ned stated after he had read the five most recent ones. He threw them into her lap. “Now tell me exactly what you replied to them.” 

This was her chance to show her husband she had known what she was doing and had played Petyr as much as he had played her. “I can help you out there Ned. You will see I kept my answers vague. I always kept in mind that our heads would be forfeit if I let something important slip. She went back to the cupboard and took out larger sheets. I always drafted my messages before writing the final version so as to have an immaculate version to send. You know I am a stickler for cleanliness. Well as an act of good faith, I will let you read every word I send to Petyr.”

Looking grim, Ned took possessions of these sheets and started reading. After a while he looked at her anxious face. “Thanks Catelyn, this reassures me slightly. I haven’t read them all yet but I can already get some measure of things now. You did reveal just enough to keep him interested in corresponding with you, but nothing too harmful, at least not in these two I have read. A few things in there I would have preferred to keep from him but it could have been a lot worse.”

“I am sorry, Ned. I will not write to him again.” She seemed a bit mollified with his initial appraisal.

“No, I think you should keep writing to him. Only we will write your messages together and try to get him to reveal his schemes. He is no friend or ours, Catelyn. You need to believe me when I tell you this. I will take all of these scrolls into my chambers and tomorrow we will reconvene. I will then systematically expose every false statement and scheme in his letters so you can start to see your Petyr for what he really is. By the way, what did you make of the vague rumours he mentioned? The ones about the royal children including your dear Prince Joffrey being Lannister bastards?” he was curious now knowing her strong prejudice against bastards.

“Just vile rumours, Ned. Petyr states as much, rumours started by enemies of the Lannisters. The Prince is such a handsome boy. Everyone knows that he can’t be some vile bastard.”

“You and your southern views! Have you ever theorised about the concept of bastards? You condemn innocent babies and still pay your respects to the parents who are the ones to commit the sin. Jon is already wiser than you are by far. He wrote to me once that they should call the fathers bastards, not the innocent babes. And by the Gods woman, he has the right of it. If only you would let yourself think on it.”

“Bastards are born with evil in them. They threaten trueborn children.” She parroted her beliefs.

“No wonder they lash out if you treat them so unjustifiable. You start with an innocent baby, Catelyn. Try to think for yourself for once in your life and not repeat the words of some ignorant Septon. A child who has never done anything wrong in the world gets mistreated by everyone, is sometimes cast out completely and you wonder why it retaliates?  
Bastards, damn I really hate that term, I mean children whose parents are not married, are to be pitied anyway. They stand to inherit nothing. You should give them at least a good education. Teach them a craft so they can earn their own living later, not unlike second sons. But I am getting off topic. What if the rumours were true? What if I accepted a betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey and he turns out to be a bastard?”

“Gods forbid Ned, you are right to stall as long as possible.” Catelyn’s world was turned upside down by this notion. The golden Crown Prince could not possibly be an evil bastard? Surely these were just rumours?

Ned sighed. “I am going to leave you for now, Catelyn. I will need plenty of time to study all this. Help me carry the scrolls to my room if you will.” He shook his head. It would be a long night for him.

 

Ned was astounded at the poison contained in Littlefinger’s subtle letters. He began to understand some reactions of his wife better. Her stubborn views on some topics, the silent blame game she sometimes had going with him. The man had poisoned their marriage from afar. And not only that, he had subtly let it be known he would always be there for her if ever something happened to her husband, even going so far as suggesting marriage. No wonder Baelish had been plotting his death. The more he read, the angrier he got. He would have to talk to someone about this but to whom? His brother was still incommunicado beyond the Wall. Howard Reed was a possibility but with the King’s imminent visit Ned could not leave. Perhaps Lord Reed would want to come here? Unlikely but he could always ask. He envied Jon his circle of advisers. Ned had only one person left here in Winterfell he trusted with his life, someone wise and neutral enough to give a valued opinion. He would go and speak to Maester Luwin. If necessary he would postpone the talk with his wife.

But first, he would have to write a letter to the Vale. He needed Lord Royce’s assistance to thwart another of Littlefinger’s schemes. Somehow Baelish’s letters to his wife had given him an insight in the man’s conniving mind. He wouldn’t tell Catelyn this, but a welcome side effect of her irresponsible behaviour was that they had the opportunity to prevent losing the support of an entire Kingdom to their cause, one they had considered to be firmly on board.

He should make an effort to get his marriage back on track. He didn’t want to grant Petyr even this small victory. Catelyn was his wife. He would ask the Maester to start giving her moon tea. It had been too long time since he had last bedded his wife. Good sex had always been an easy way to persuade her to his side. He realised he was not entirely blameless. Petyr Baelish would never have had such an influence on Catelyn if he had paid her more attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter several decisions will need to be made.  
> Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys has to deal with more than one suitor.


	13. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tentative alliance is struck and several decisions are made.  
> Across the Narrow Sea, Daenerys has to deal with more than one suitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not like Alliser Thorne so he doesn’t exist in my universe and the Master at Arms at the Wall is someone else.
> 
> One of the reasons why I wrote this fanfic is that I believe GRRM created an intriguing world but watching the show I concluded that they missed several lost opportunities, the small impact of the direwolves being one of them.  
> I want you all to keep in mind that this story takes place in an alternate universe and that allows me to play around with the characters as much as I like. The only rules I follow are my own rules.
> 
> My version of Jon is totally different from the Jon in the show. At seventeen he is bossing everyone around and embracing the fact that his destiny is to become a benevolent King. My version of Daenerys has lived a sheltered life and is the opposite of the power hungry must be queen you see in the series.  
> Another heads up: Khal Drogo appears on the scene. He is also OOC but do not make the mistake to think he is not smart. His broken speech may make it appear so, but the fact that he is the only Dothraki who made the effort to learn to communicate in a strange language is already a sign of his intelligence.
> 
> I’ll stop my rambling here and let you read the chapter. I hope the plot will stay intriguing enough to keep you all interested, even those of you who would prefer other pairings.

Chapter text: 

Edric, Robb and Sam had joined Jon on the bridge. They were watching the Ironborn ship. A small boat had been lowered into the water with three people on board. They had brought the white flag along. Jon used the spyglass he had loaned from the chief mate. 

“It is Yara Greyjoy!” He exclaimed. 

“The Ironborn you saved from the pirates?” Robb asked. “What would she want with us?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Sam addressed Robb. “The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Jon has successfully attacked Euron Greyjoy. That makes him her natural ally. She will be here to seek his aid. The fact that she survived means she is on the run.”

“The enemy of the enemy is your friend? What a strange phrase.” Robb repeated Sam’s words with a frown on his face.

“I read it in a very old book. It makes sense if you think on it.” Sam replied a sheepish smile on his face.

“Let us join the others on deck. Even Ser Gerold will agree that Yara Greyjoy and two lackeys pose no real threat to me.” Jon was already making his way down.

 

“My Lady,” Jon greeted her as took her hand to help her on board. 

She accepted his hand with a tense nod of her head.

“Your weapons please?” Ser Gerold would not take any risks.

“I do not carry any.” Yara’s answer was abrupt. Then she turned around and ordered the two men to row back to her ship. “Come and get me when you receive my signal,” she ordered them and then faced Jon and his entourage.  
“See, I come alone and in peace. I trust you will offer me guest rights and not chain me, my Lord?” She addressed her question to Jon, not Ser Gerold. 

“Of course, this way please.” He showed her to the cabin where they took their meals.

Jon watched her partake of some bread and salt and ate a small piece as well. He saw her relax before his eyes.

He signalled Davos and Ser Gerold to take a seat at the small table. A significant look at Sam resulted in his friend ushering everybody out. They went willingly confident they would get a full briefing afterwards. 

Robb however stayed behind. “I wish to represent the Warden of the North in this negotiation.” 

His commanding tone was answered by a small smile from Jon. “Pull up a chair then.”  
At Yara Greyjoy’s questioning look he added for her sake. “My Lady, may I present to you Lord Robb of House Stark, son of Eddard Stark, heir to Winterfell and future Warden of the North. I trust you still remember Davos of House Seaworth and Ser Gerold?”

Yara nodded, her gaze lingering on Robb. So this was the foster brother Theon had written about all these years. At first her brother’s letters had described a disgustingly endearingly relationship with the heir but lately not so much anymore. Several moons ago he had written to her that the Starks had gotten complacent and he was finally able to sneak messages to her when he stayed in Wintertown. Finally she received unbiased accounts that weren’t read by the Starks before he was allowed to send them to his family. He stressed that he hated the Starks and that they would pay for his captivity sometime in the future. It appeared her brother had stayed an Ironborn in exile.  
Yara made an effort to refocus on the situation at hand and continued to stare at Lord Celtigar. She guessed he was the dragon rider if the stories were to be believed. At least that way she could explain why a young boy was in charge of this strange mix of characters. 

Jon answered her stare with one of his own. He decided not to waste any more time and opened the talks. In a determined voice he fired his first question at her. “How did you know where to find us?” 

“Everyone who has ears heard Euron Greyjoy’s frustrated outburst when he returned to Pyke with less than half of his men.”

“So we know for a fact he survived the attack.” Ser Gerold stated the obvious. “We assume your father was deposed when Euron Greyjoy first landed on Pyke?”

“Uncle Euron killed him. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to offer him an honourable death. I was not at Pyke at the time so I only heard of it from Ironborn at Pyke still loyal to me. I am not entirely sure whether I got a faithful report or an exaggerated account of their final confrontation. They all describe how Euron Greyjoy acted like a madman and how with a single nonchalant gesture he pushed my father of the bridge separating the two towers of Pyke, all the while laughing as a madman. They told me my father’s head got crushed against the foundations of his home before disappearing beneath the turbulent waters. His body was never found.”  
Yara’s voice betrayed no emotions. She also waved away any attempts at sympathetic remarks that Jon and Davos started to make. Without further ado she got back to the business at hand.

“Ever since his defeat at your hands, my dearest uncle makes sure to monitor your movements. I still have loyal men living on Pyke. One of the reasons I came here was to warn you.”

“Your warning has no value. We already know we made an enemy who is not honourable and will ambush his prey after sundown. Did you not hear about that from your informants as well?” Jon undermined her negotiating position. 

“We could help each other.” She ventured neither admitting nor denying that she knew of the ambush.

“How convenient for you,” Davos intervened. “And what could you possibly offer us? If you have reliable spies, then you know we defeated his superior force and suffered not a single casualty on our side.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once. I could tell you where he plans to hit next,” she insisted. “Or perhaps what countermeasures he is devising.”

“And lead us into a trap?” Ser Gerold decided to voice his doubts.

“Why would I do that? Actually how would I do that?” She focused on Jon once more. “I figured out how you set that pirate ship on fire from afar.”

“Then you know we do not really need any help.” Davos objected trying to divert her attention from Jon’s role during the attack.

Jon studied her. “Is there some way you could prove your claim that you are on our side?” He realised she was right about not being able to be everywhere at once with his dragons. However admitting that would not only undermine Davos but also weaken their position in this negotiation.

“You control my brother’s fate and you know I want him by my side.” Yara tried.

“Not good enough” Jon countered and remembered uneasily that they didn’t know where Theon was at the moment. For all he knew the Kraken was halfway to Pyke running straight into his uncle’s arms. Yara wouldn’t be pleased to hear her brother could well be about to be slaughtered by Euron Greyjoy. He threw a warning look at Robb. He hoped Robb would not mention that Theon had escaped.

“King Robert controls Theon Greyjoy’s fate.” Robb spoke up for the first time. “The Starks are only obeying royal orders.”

“As if a friend of a dragon is a true friend of Robert Baratheon.” Yara sneered. She paused to consider her options. “I could,” she faltered then resumed, “I could offer myself up as a hostage.”

Jon shook his head. “Would your men still be loyal to you if you did that? Could we still trust the intelligence they would bring you? As far as I know the ways of your people, if they do not believe you strong enough to lead them, they will look for someone else to follow. In spite of your uncle’s recent setback, he is probably the only other candidate they can turn to if you are our captive. You are of no value to us then.” 

“You forget my brother Theon. The Ironborn could rally behind him. He would vouch for me.”

“Now you are grasping at straws. Your brother is not a free man and he has not lived on Pyke for many years. Will they still see him as a true Ironborn?” Jon’s hopes of forging a fruitful alliance were dwindling. “Aside from endangering our relationship with the royal family by releasing him, the chances of Theon Greyjoy and me agreeing on anything are rather slim.”

Ser Gerold intervened. “We are talking in circles here. I have yet to hear a single reason why we should become allies.”

“Is there any useful information on Euron Greyjoy you can give us right now? Anything that is substantial enough to prove you can be trusted?” Davos calm tone was meant to counteract the downwards spiral the conversation was making.

“You mean spill it all without any promises on your end?” It appeared Yara was getting desperate.

“What do you really stand to lose? We already helped you by weakening Euron Greyjoy’s position. Technically you owe us this.” Jon relished having the stronger negotiating position.

“He is looking at the South right now. He is searching for rich lands that are not so heavily defended.” She admitted with apparent reluctance. “I heard him speak of the Reach and Oldtown.”

“I thought you came to warn us. Which is it? Will he sail south or will he come for us?” Ser Gerold didn’t really see the point in continuing this interrogation.

“Even if he takes part of his fleet south now, he has a vendetta against you, Lord Celtigar. He will keep tracking your movements and strike when he believes he has found a weak spot. But I admit he will be more careful and you probably have bought yourself some time before he tries anything again.”

Jon looked at his camp a question in his eyes. Davos shrugged his shoulders but cleared his voice and spoke up. “My Lady, will you step outside for a bit? We want to discuss this amongst ourselves. We won’t take long I assure you.” 

Jon couldn’t stop himself from taunting her and immediately added to Davos’ request. “Oh, do be careful not to step on my direwolf who is guarding the door from the outside. I believe he doesn’t like Krakens all that much.” 

If Jon expected Yara Greyjoy to be upset by this dismissal and his jibe, he could not have been more mistaken. Yara was looking visibly relieved and did not hesitate to leave the cabin. 

 

A bit later, Jon joined her on deck and called Ghost to him. He escorted her to the port side. Together they watched the crew on the deck of her ship attend to their duties. “You seem to run a tight ship.” Jon complimented her.

Yara shifted her position a little keeping a wary eye on the big wolf that hadn’t left her side and was even now worming himself between the two of them. 

“Ghost,” Jon’s commanding tone had immediate effect. The direwolf retreated and curled himself in a peaceful position at Jon’s feet. Jon petted his head affectionately.

Yara tried to keep her composure at this blatant exhibition of power from the young Lord. She just threw a questioning look at him.

Jon decided to comply. “We propose to keep in contact as tentative allies. If your help proves substantial we will consider supporting you to take back control of the Iron Islands. No formal promise yet, just a declaration of intent, one with great potential on your side if you deliver on your promise. You can signal your ship now to pick you up.” His tone clearly indicated that negotiations were over. This was a take it or leave it deal.

“I’ll take it.” Again there was no hesitation on her part.

Jon realised coming to them had been a desperate move on her part, some sort of last option with bad odds. He looked thoughtful when she asked. “How do you propose we keep in contact, Lord Celtigar?” 

He noticed she had taken out a small mirror and used the reflection of the sunlight to signal her crew. Jon waited patiently until she had finished. He made a mental note of this useful trick.  
“While we wait we can agree on some code words to disguise the true meaning of our messages. If your spies on Pyke are as reliable as you claim they are, they can tell you where to send them. If one of your messages requires an answer from our side, just use the code to tell us where to send it.”

“You will not tell me what your plans are? I cannot fathom what you intend to achieve sailing this far north with two large fire breathing dragons?” Yara was curious. If only she could control those fearsome animals the way he seemingly could, she would have conquered half of Westeros by now.

“All in good time. Let us first wait and see how this alliance will evolve.” Jon stated his face staying neutral. 

When Yara was safely on board of her own ship, Jon sought out Sam and Davos. He ordered for a message to be prepared to Lord Tyrell. It contained the warning of a possible imminent Ironborn attack on the Reach. The message further detailed that they counted on Lord Tyrell as the Lord Paramount of the Reach to alert Old Town, the Arbor, the Shield Isles an any other likely target along the coast and the Mander River. Jon urged Sam to formulate a message to his father, Lord Tarly as well. Davos could sign it, but his family needed to be warned.

 

***

 

Slowly the little harbour of Sea Dragon Point came into view. This time it was Sandor Clegane who was standing next to Jon at the bow watching the ship approach the shore.  
“What are we going to do in this godsforsaken place? I can almost smell that ice wall from here.” he muttered wringing his cold hands together.”

 _‘Not a single f-word’_ , Jon didn’t voice that thought but was amused. _‘Perhaps years of talking with polite company would slowly change his speech patterns?’_ A loud curse interrupted his musings. _‘Or perhaps not.’_ He turned to Sandor. “Whatever is the matter, Sandor?”

“I just bumped my knee against this fucking crate trying to regain my balance after that stupid shift in direction.” He looked at Jon and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question boy. What stupid shit are we doing in this cold and godsforsaken place?”

“I hope to receive some messages. Our allies knew this was the next point they could reach us.”

“Okay, so don’t tell me, I can live with that but do not lie to me boy.”

“I’m not.” Jon tried.

“But you’re not telling either.” Sandor didn’t relent.

“Sandor,” Jon started.

Sandor held up his hand. “In future, just say straight to my ugly face you won’t or can’t tell anything at the first time of asking. Then I can respect you, boy. You know full well I resent cunts that talk but say nothing.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I do expect some messages though.”

“Worried about your uncle, boy?” Sandor tried a different tactic.

Jon rolled his eyes at the third mention of the word boy in this short conversation but then his face darkened. “Yeah, it is the longest I have gone without a sign of life from him. I’m very worried.”

“It will all be set to rights. That’s why we’re fucking here anyway.” Sandor stated matter of fact enjoying the look of shock on Jon’s face. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.” He grinned to reassure Jon and sauntered off when he saw Robb approach, Greywind at his heels. 

Jon and Robb had spent more than two moons together. Their bond had been tested but Jon knew with absolute certainty that Robb had accepted his new reality and was one hundred percent on board now. He suspected Robb would have a stern talk with his father though.

He had watched how Robb had made good use of this journey. After seeing Jon interrogate the garrison commander and assess the threats during their first stop at the Stony Shore, his cousin had started to do the same at all the other settlements they had visited next. He now had a full report prepared for his father and had told Jon he was satisfied to know more about the situation in the Kingdom he was destined to rule one day.

Travelling with Jon had made Robb realise that being heir to the North meant taking responsibility and not just giving some random orders from far away. He had decided he would ask his father to let him take an active part in seeing to the welfare of the people of the North. 

“Hi,” Robb said when he reached Jon. “Why are you hiding out here?”

“I’m standing in plain view, Robb. I particularly enjoy watching a ship enter port and anticipate the joy I will feel when my feet can touch dry land once more.”

“Not really a sailor?”

“Nope, but I realise it can be a convenient means of travelling. I fear you’ve come to tell me you’ll be leaving us soon?” Jon looked at the serious face of his cousin.

“Only if I can’t convince you to travel to Winterfell with me.” Robb attempted one last time.

“I can’t Robb, not yet, I’ve told you my reasons.”

“Yeah, a guy can try though. I hate that we need to part. I hate it even more that I do not know when we will see each other again. “ 

“I have a feeling it won’t be long before that happens, Robb.” He sighed and changed the subject. “I worry about the content of the messages that await us. I know it is unrealistic to presume Varys has been able to deflect every rumour of dragons flying around Westeros. I’m anxious to know which version of the story is circulating over there. A lot of my plans will depend on that.”

Robb studied him. “It may still be too early to evaluate whether the rumours have done some damage.” His jaw shifted slightly. “I know the content of at least one message already.” He mimicked his mother’s tone. “Robb please hurry home, love mom.” 

“Let’s pray there is one from Uncle Benjen.” Jon stared in the distance, his eyes not really taking anything in. Both boys sighed simultaneously.

 

***

 

Plenty of messages had indeed arrived, none from Uncle Benjen, but one from Uncle Aemon. Plenty of scrolls from their allies and as expected a message marked urgent from Winterfell addressed to Robb. 

The message from the Wall was the first one Jon opened. It contained no new information of Uncle Benjen. His mission north of the Wall was taking longer than expected Maester Aemon wrote. Both boys were disheartened. The rest of the letter contained a request to search for something called obsidian but Jon put it aside for now and was about to ask Robb to read the urgent message from Winterfell at once when he noticed his cousin had already opened the message from his father. 

Robb summarised the content aloud to Jon as he read. As expected he was called home immediately. The King had been spotted crossing the border into the North. The messages detailed the route the royal caravan was taking. Uncle Ned wrote he had taken precautions to lead them past Moat Cailin with a guide and had given instructions to the castellan to keep the smallfolk hidden while the caravan passed. The guide would take the abandoned old road where some ruins could still be seen so as not to raise too many questions. The improvements at Winterfell alone would be more than enough to make the Lannisters suspicious. 

Robb put the letter down and described the improvements his father had made at Winterfell after Jon’s visit when he was twelve. “A second fortified wall has been built that encompasses a large area around the original one that still serves as a second layer of protection to the castle. The new fortifications contain an impressive gatehouse flanked by two slightly protruding watchtowers built at just the right angle to provide additional protection. The new inner courtyard created between the new and the original wall houses several workshops and large stables. To the south the gap between the two walls widens significantly to make room for extensive glass houses.”

He resumed his perusing of his father’s letter. “He also writes about Arya’s safe return. Oh, she is taking official fighting lessons with Lady Brienne of Tarth now. I also must thank you on father’s behalf for the beautiful sword you have given Arya. There should be a small thank you note from her addressed to you personally included in here.”  
Rob rolled out the entire scroll and a small piece fell from it. “That must be it.” He handed it to Jon who tucked it away to read it later. He gestured Robb to continue.

Father mentions that Loras Tyrell is making himself useful and he believes him to be an upstanding young man. He suspects Sansa to have a little crush on him but nothing serious. The boy ignores her so he doesn’t worry.” Robb falters. “Oh I should have kept that part to myself.” A repentant smile flashed over his face before he frowned. “Do not let on you are aware of this.”

“Listen to this shocking titbit.” Robb’s voice betrayed his surprise. “The black sheep Theon has returned to Winterfell of his own volition. He claims he had just left on a short adventure with friends and didn’t realise his absence would cause such a stir. Father doesn’t know what to make of that but keeps a guard on him at all times now. He is relieved this situation has been resolved before King Robert’s arrival.”

Robb read on in silence for a bit. Then he put the letter down. “The rest are just some insignificant internal family matters except for one thing. It appears Domeric Bolton, Roose Bolton’s eldest son and heir has lodged a formal complaint against his bastard half-brother Ramsay Snow. Apparently this Ramsay Snow has committed hideous crimes against the smallfolk. Domeric Bolton begs my father to deal with this because Roose Bolton doesn’t consider it serious enough and just laughs stating the boy is going through a phase. Domeric Bolton petitions the Warden of the North to use his authority over his father. Lord Stark should order his bannerman to protect the wellbeing of the smallfolk living in and around the Dreadfort.”

“Does your father write how he intends to deal with this matter?” Jon was appalled by what he had just heard.

“My father explains his options are limited because he cannot travel to the Dreadfort. He is stuck at Winterfell due to the imminent royal visit. He has written a stern letter to Lord Roose Bolton. He will monitor the situation and if necessary will ask the Greatjon or Lord Karstark to pay Roose Bolton a visit. Under no circumstance am I allowed to travel there. My protection detail is too small and the Boltons could well keep me hostage until he allows the betrothal of Sansa to his heir. He stresses once more he needs me at Winterfell and wants me to arrive as soon as possible.” 

Robb rolled up the scroll and tucked it away. “I guess that means I will arrange for my journey home. I’ll alert my houseguard so they can pack their things and see to it that our horses are among the first to disembark.” He looked at Jon with a reluctant expression. “And all of this because of a Usurper coming north. I wished you could come along and take the Baratheon King hostage at Winterfell.”

“I know,” Robb relented when he saw Jon’s exasperated expression. “I do know you told me several times why this is not a good idea. A man can dream can’t he? Can I ask Edric to accompany me to Winterfell, and perhaps Gendry and Sam also?” 

Jon looked thoughtful. His first reaction was to deny Robb’s request instantly but was he allowed to dictate all their lives just like that? “You could ask Edric what he prefers to do, I reckon.” He hesitated. “Sam and Gendry on the other hand, I’d rather you didn’t approach them. I need them with me for one and you would put them in an awkward position. Sam is probably going to leave for Oldtown soon anyway. I am sorry Robb.”

“I understand Jon. It was just an idea. I finally found company my own age I can stand to be around. You do realise I have to go back and live with Theon at Winterfell once more?”

“You have plenty of siblings, Robb. If we play the pity game, I win. Do not forget Loras is at Winterfell too, probably counting the days until you show up. You know your siblings enjoy his company at Winterfell. Hells, we only knew him for a bit over a sennight before we had to part ways in the Riverlands but that was long enough to see he could fit right into our little circle.

“Well, if I may call dibs on Edric and Loras, you can have Sam and Gendry.” He joked. At Jon’s serious expression he stopped his teasing. “Jon, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ll just issue an open invitation to Winterfell to Edric whenever he feels like it, nothing more and nothing less.”

A tentative smile ghosted over Jon’s face. “Now if you will excuse me, I really need to scan the other messages from our allies and have a quick talk with Davos. If there is anything of interest in them I will tell you later when I give you the letters I have prepared for Arya and Uncle Ned. I am certain I will need to add a few things to Uncle Ned’s letter so let me attend to that first. That way I can make sure I’m finished with the most urgent things long before you are set to leave. I also have to fetch the small gifts I prepared for your family. I wouldn’t want Sansa, Bran or Rickon to think I only like you and Arya.”He saw Robb’s quizzical look and with a teasing smile on his face he continued. “Don’t worry, we’ll make time to say a proper goodbye and share at least one more meal and then you can have your present. No need to be jealous, I have one for you as well.”

Robb nudged his shoulder playfully and Jon patted his cousin’s back a few times in return. Both boys hurried to finish their tasks so they could still spend some time together later.

 

One last time the five boys enjoyed a joint meal. They made a pact to always be friends and to do their utmost to keep in touch. If anyone of them ever needed anything, he had four loyal friends to call upon. Gendry had been touched to be included in this circle. He had slowly but surely become at ease in this little group even though he had been subjected to relentless teasing when he had asked Robb whether there was any news of Arya in his message from Winterfell. He had turned red when he defended himself by saying he just wanted to know if she had arrived home safely.

After elaborate thanks to Jon, Robb had turned to Gendry and praised him as well when he finally received his gift just moments before they were about to leave. Somehow Gendry had found the time at the Driftmark to execute an additional order from Jon. He had made a beautiful dagger for Robb. The handle ended in the same miniature direwolf’s head as the pommel of Arya’s new sword, only the colour of the eyes was different. On his dagger they were yellow. 

Much to Jon and Ser Arthur’s surprise, Edric had agreed to accompany Robb to Winterfell for a short visit. Edric had apologised to Jon but explained that the opportunity to meet the fat King Robert and his entourage had been the compelling factor.  
When Robb and Edric set off, the three that stayed behind together with Ghost had climbed a little rise and had waved until the small caravan taking the heir back to Winterfell was no longer visible. Ghost had whined quietly needing comfort from Jon. Jon surmised his wolf would miss Greywind just as much as he would miss Robb.

 

***

 

Walking back to the tavern, Jon made sure to talk to Sam. “Would you be willing to help me with something Sam?” Jon asked.

“You know I will,” Sam simply replied. “Ask away.”

“Come to my room and I’ll let you read the letter I got from Maester Aemon. He describes exactly what I need you to do.” Jon opened the door of the tavern and let Sam pass through it watching the boy intently. “Have you noticed lately that your clothes are getting somewhat too big for you?” Jon remarked. “You should ask the maid here to help you adjust them a bit. You're not sick, are you Sam? Do you know why you have been losing weight?”

“Well I am training more than I used to and I do not get desert when we travel.” Sam tried to joke. “I don’t mind though, I’ve never felt better and do not tire so easily. You need not worry about me.”

The boys waved at Gendry who had told them he would retire to his room. Davos had found him a book with drawings of all kinds of armour, bucklers and helmets and he wanted to look at it some more. 

“Glad to hear it.” Jon reacted to Sam’s statement. They had entered Jon’s room. “Let me find this letter first.” 

“You get a lot of messages, Jon.” Sam studied the content of his bed. “Are these all new ones? I hope you have a filing system.”

“Mostly new ones. Things are starting to move fast and we need to communicate a lot. Here, I found it. I scribbled the decoded lines between the original ones.” Jon handed him the letter.

“Obsidian? Volcanic glass? I will hit the books as soon as I fetch them from the ship. I will need to look for place where there used to be an active volcano. I bet there will be lots of volcanic glass on Old Valyria, but don’t worry, I’ll do my best to find a more accessible location.” He looked at Jon. “Anything else you want me to do?”

“Actually yes, I would like you to go to the Citadel and forge your chain. I need a Maester. The Wall will also need a Maester to replace my Uncle Aemon. However I would vastly prefer you to consider entering my services. Go to the Citadel, be my ears and eyes there and come back to my side once you have forged your chain. The Wall is not a place anyone would volunteer to be at right now. It is the most dangerous place of Westeros.”

Jon paused and looked at Sam a serious look in his eyes. “I know it will take you a while to come back but keep in mind that Dragonstone and the Driftmark are not that distant from Oldtown. I will find reasons to meet and I will write you constantly.” 

“But my father,” Sam stammered.

“What would you do if you didn’t have to deal with your father? What would you chose if it was just you deciding your own fate without any outside pressure.”

“But that is not the case, Jon.”

“Sam, I have some very powerful people behind me. If all goes as planned I will be powerful in my own right. You need not face your father. Lord Eddard Stark can write to him that you are studying at the Citadel on the orders of the Warden of the North. He can formulate it in such a way that your father will presume you are destined to become a Maester at the Wall even if he doesn’t write it explicitly. This will buy you even more time to decide whether you really want to relinquish your right to Horn Hill. If you want it to go to your brother, I can draft a decree that he becomes the heir no matter whether you join the Night’s Watch or become one of my most trusted advisers. If you want to claim your birthright and become the next Lord of Horn Hill, I can make that happen as well. You can choose whatever you want and we will deal with your father. We can make sure you never need to speak to him again, Sam.” Jon looked him in the eyes. “Promise me you will make a decision factoring out your father’s wishes and solely considering your own.”

Sam took a deep breath. “If I take my father out of the equation, my decision is an easy one. I choose you, Jon. If you or Lord Stark can really convince my father, I relinquish my rights to Horn Hill. I will serve you in any way you deem fit.”

Jon hugged Sam. You will make an excellent Grand Maester, Sam.” He asserted.

“Grand Maester?”

“In time and only if I get to be King. You have the potential, Sam. Nobody understands and retains knowledge as you do.” Jon smiled at Sam’s shocked expression.

“Grand Maester.” This time the words were uttered with reverence. “I want to see my father’s face if ever that happens and he learns of it. It will be priceless.”

“You will outrank him.” Jon shared his hypothetical triumph.

“So how do we go about this?” Sam asked.

“I’ll write to Lord Stark today, Sam. You have until this evening to change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” Jon looked relieved. “Could you find Davos Seaworth? I still need to go through all these messages with him. And thank you, Sam. I really appreciate your decision. We will make the best team Westeros has ever seen. I hope it will not take you too long to forge your chain. I warn you though, I won’t let you leave for Oldtown before you teach me an adequate filing system to arrange my scrolls.” Jon smiled.

Sam returned his smile and left the room to find Davos. 

 

***

 

Jon and Davos secluded themselves in Jon’s room and screened all the messages. The most important development was that Varys confirmed Stannis Baratheon had left Dragonstone. He and his household had moved to Storm’s End. The King had not yet decreed who was to take possession of Dragonstone. Apparently he hesitated to give temporary custody to Lord Velaryon and let him install a castellan for the time being. The King was still debating which noble house he needed to buy a favour of by granting them Dragonstone.

Then there was the letter from Princess Daenerys informing him of her newly arrived suitor Prince Quentyn Martell. The next one was from Prince Oberyn who warned him once more about a possible conspiracy between Freys, Ironborns and Boltons and informed them he was sailing from Seagard to the Wall with his daughter Nymeria. He also wrote of Prince Doran’s one sided action to send his heir to Essos to betroth himself to Daenerys Targaryen. Although the warning came too late, Jon was sure Prince Oberyn had been ignorant before.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Ser Oswell entered, a tiny scroll in his hand. “An urgent message from Maester Aemon, my Prince.”

“Thank you Ser Oswell.” Jon’s tone clearly implied he would read this as soon as Ser Oswell had left the room.

This short message complicated matters. Davos and Jon discussed at length how to juggle all the issues at hand. The decision made, Jon wrote various messages and dictated some to Davos as well. When most of it was finished, he sent Davos to fetch Sandor Clegane. The three of them would visit his dragons. Afterwards, Davos would have the difficult task to relay Jon’s instruction to the rest of their group. They would not be best pleased to say the least.

A bit later Jon waved at Ser Gerold who watched his Prince leave with Davos and Sandor Clegane. Each of them carried a bag with some provisions. Nothing out of the ordinary if he wanted to stay out all night with the dragons.

Jon and Davos were busy discussing some last moment details when Sandor took two big steps to draw level with them. “What's up? Why did you ask for me to come along when you know I do not like to spend an entire night close to big fire breathing creatures. And what the hells are you two whispering about?”

“I’m sorry, Sandor. I’ll tell you when we get there. We’re almost there anyway.” Jon shifted the bag he was carrying to his other shoulder.

“You plan to stall me so I can get no word to the others to try and stop your dumb plan? You think I’m stupid, boy? You think you can play me?” The three of them had stopped walking.

“No, I do not think that. I reckoned you were probably the only one who would understand and let me go. That’s why I asked you to guard me tonight. I made sure you will not have to face Ser Gerold’s wrath. I have a written statement prepared for him. Besides Davos will have other instructions that will demand all his attention. He will have no time to take it out on you.” Jon reassured his friend.

“I ain’t afraid of a fucking scolding. I only want you to swear to me you will do everything you can to come back alive. No hare-brained schemes, you hear.”

“I hear you, Sandor, loud and clear. But I have to do this. Maester Aemon forwarded me this small note of Uncle Benjen. Here, read it yourself.” Jon handed Sandor a small scroll.

 

_Maester Aemon, We have walked into a trap north west of the Fist of the First Men. The dead surround us. We are currently dug in and can defend our position for a few days still. Without outside help we won’t last a sennight. Only send help if you deem fit. Benjen Stark_

 

“What did Maester Aemon advise?” Sandor asked his eyes still fixed on the small message trying to find some hidden meaning.

“The fact that he forwarded this to me says it all. He just writes what I deem fit, he will deem fit.” Jon explained. “The Night’s Watch can never reach them in time. Maester Aemon warns me that chances are the enemy keeps them alive to lure reinforcements. The more souls, the more victims they can enrol in their army of wights. I have to go, Sandor. I am their only hope. We know that this enemy can be destroyed by fire. You have witnessed how powerful my dragons are. I can help. Hells, I am the only hope they still have at survival.”

“What are you waiting for then, kid? I would come along if I could but I guess I will have to sit this one out. Damn!”

“You could help me with something else. Support Davos. Escort him back as soon as I have flown off. But most of all stand by him if Ser Gerold doesn’t agree immediately with the orders Davos will give him on my behalf. Promise me that.”

“I’ll do what I can, boy. Now where are those fire-hazard pets of yours? Do you need any of these provisions?” Sandor took the bag from his shoulder to show what he meant.

“Actually he does. He intends to secure them on Rhaegal’s back.” Davos’ voice betrayed his doubts about the feasibility of such a thing.

“Well, I sure as hells will not be helping him with that. And I reckon you will not either. Gods, they have gotten even bigger since last I saw them.” Sandor exclaimed when he spotted the dragons at the opposite side of the clearing they had just entered. He put the bag he was carrying on the ground. “That’s as far as I am going, boy. Better say goodbye to me here.” he said uncomfortably.

“Thanks for everything, Sandor. I promise to be back soon.” Jon said awkwardly not knowing if a more tactile gesture would be welcomed by the large man. 

The dragons sensing Jon’s mood met him halfway in the middle of the clearing. Jon petted them and then leaned against Rhaegal, silently communicating with him in images. Then he addressed Viserion. “I need your help once more. One of my kin is in trouble. Will you follow your brother?” Viserion tilted his big head so his right eye could stare into Jon’s. Jon felt a strong wave of empathy coming from the dragon. 

“I just need to fix something on your back Rhaegal. Will you let me try?”  
Rhaegal lowered his wing, eyeing the three bags suspiciously.

There was no easy way to attach the bags to Rhaegal’s back. Jon decided on another tactic. He attached the strings of two bags and placed them where he would sit, each bag dangling on a flank keeping the other in balance. Jon’s own weight would have to keep them in place during the flight. The third bag would stay behind. Jon couldn’t attach much weight to his own body. It would hamper maintaining his equilibrium during the flight. He would need his agility to ensure he did not fall off if the dragon had to change course abruptly. He waved goodbye to the two loyal men standing at the edge of the clearing and mounted Rhaegal. Both dragons immediately took to the air.

Davos kept gazing at the sky until Jon could no longer be seen. “What an amazing sight. At the speed he is travelling it won’t take him long to reach Castle black. Let’s head back. We will need to start making plans. Jon intends to invade Dragonstone.” Davos picked up the bag Jon had left behind and handed it to Sandor Clegane.

“About fucking time if you ask me. I have been waiting for this ever since he told me he plans to fight for the Iron Throne.” Sandor threw the bag over his shoulder and started to walk in the direction of the tavern. 

 

***

 

“You two just let him fly off?” Ser Gerold exclaimed a bit later in their small meeting room.

“He gave us an order. We had no choice. Do you think you could have stopped him?” Davos countered Ser Gerold’s question with one of his own.

“Do you think the dragons would have allowed you to stop him, is the better question here, Davos.” Sandor baited Ser Gerold.

“The Prince and I discussed everything this afternoon. He promised he would be back in a few days. He also devised a strategy to deal with some new developments. He asked us to make the necessary preparations and send out messages in the meantime. He has assigned us many tasks. We will hardly have time to worry about him.” Davos checked his audience. Only Ser Gerold had a frown on his face. The others seemed to accept their Prince’s decision. “But first let me explain why he left for the Wall.”

After Davos and Sandor had finished their explanation Ser Barristan intervened seeing Ser Gerold still needed to be placated. “Our Prince had no choice, Ser Gerold. He would never have been able to live with himself. Put yourself in his shoes. The uncle he has looked up to as a father all these years is in mortal danger. Add to that the fact that he has these two powerful dragons and has a very good chance to save the man’s life. How could you even expect him not to try and help? You heard Sandor and Davos. The Prince has vowed solemnly to take every precaution and has ensured them he will come back alive. He will not take unnecessary risks.”

“It is out of our hands now anyway, Ser Gerold. Better use your energy to carry out the instructions he left behind.” Ser Oswell spoke up for Jon as well.

“This is the first time in seventeen years none of us is around to protect him. Excuse me if I have trouble accepting this. Not only are we not there to protect him, he is rushing headlong into a dangerous situation toward an unknown enemy, without threat assessment or battle plan.”

“I respectfully disagree, Ser Gerold.” Ser Arthur had seen this coming and was ready to defend his Prince. “There is a firm battle plan in place. He has taken two powerful weapons. We know the weakness of this enemy is fire. Jon’s plan is so simple he did not need to discuss strategies first. Trust him Ser Gerold. You surely noticed the way he handled himself when he took on those twenty ships. He adhered to the plan of Davos, did not overreact. He deliberated and reacted wisely to the changed circumstances. You do remember he retreated before all ships were destroyed as soon as he saw the archers nock their arrows?”

“What’s done is done.” Davos tried once more. “Let’s focus on a new development. Jon wants to invade Dragonstone. You will need to hear how he intends to do it.”

Absolute silence. Then Sandor interfered. “Come on. It’s about fucking time we moved forward with the conquer all of Westeros plan. Admit it."

“Varys sent word that Stannis Baratheon has left for Storm’s End and has taken his household with him. King Robert is still undecided on whom to gift Dragonstone to. He isn’t leaning towards our proposition of installing a castellan under the supervision of Lord Velaryon. He is making a list of nobles he wants to placate and will probably grant it to one of them. We have a window of opportunity here. We must act and claim the island now.” Davos saw several heads nod their assent at his impassioned speech.

“What does our Prince propose?” Ser Barristan was curious.

“He asks us to prepare everything for departure so we can leave immediately upon his return. We need to send word to the Driftmark. He wants at least forty ships to be fully staffed and ready to set out. One ship is to make its way there as soon as possible under the cover of a trade mission. The crew of that ship must consist mostly of people of Valyrian descent. Perhaps even crewmembers we recruited from Dragonstone in the first place. They will mingle among the smallfolk and start rumours of a Targaryen Prince returning home. Jon is sure by the time we land most of them will flock to our side. The ship’s crew will also infiltrate the castle and assess the situation there. They will send word back to the Driftmark and if all goes according to plan, we will arrive and bring the rest of the fleet with us. He foresees a peaceful occupation.”

“Right now we must also send word to Lord Manderly at White Harbour. Jon has prepared an official order to his Master of Ships informing him of the situation and how he must deploy his ships. A copy of this letter will be sent to Lord Eddard Stark as well. He wants to migrate half of the fleet at White Harbour to Dragonstone. That will mean an additional sixty ships. Lord Manderly must make them operational immediately. The plan is to start moving them after he receives confirmation that we have taken possession of Dragonstone. Each day a convoy of five ships will leave White Harbour and sail to Dragonstone.  
Once they are all stationed there, we will have over one hundred ships and two dragons at our disposal. Nobody will be able to cast us from the island. At that stage we can start planning our next steps.” 

Davos paused but nobody spoke up so he continued. ”I have to prepare letters to all our allies informing them of the situation. We also need to get word out to Prince Oberyn. He is sailing north with his daughter. They will perhaps want to change the destination of their journey.” 

“Why now in all this haste?” Ser Oswell objected. “King Robert is travelling north. Surely Dragonstone will stay vacant for many moons still.”

“Jon fears the situation will escalate now that word of the dragons is spreading. He wants to have a home base that is easily defendable. It is actually a smart move. Can you think of a safer place, in Westeros I mean, once his cover is blown?” Davos defended Jon’s strategy.

“As long as the Prince is with us when we travel to Dragonstone, I agree. Has anyone noticed we are at the wrong side of Westeros? We have a very long way to go. Did he mention how he wanted to travel to the Driftmark?” Ser Gerold enquired. It seemed he was willing to heed Jon’s instructions.

“Not precisely no. But I think he will want to take the quickest route. Perhaps you can work on a proposal by the time he comes back?  
You also need to know about the research Samwell Tarly is doing. Apparently the enemy north of the Wall has another weakness. Maester Aemon has written about a material called obsidian. It is some kind of dark volcanic glass that can destroy wights with a single touch. It doesn’t matter where you stab them. The Free Folk, or Wildlings as you call them, have a few pieces of it but too few to make a difference if the enemy comes at them with superior numbers. Jon wants Samwell Tarly to try and find more of this obsidian.”

“Did he describe this material in more detail?” Ser Arthur asked a curious expression on his face. Then he turned to Ser Barristan. “Do you not recall the time we lived with Prince Rhaegar on Dragonstone? There were some caves on that island, near the beach. The Prince once showed them to me saying all that glitter against the walls could just as well have been more rock. He envied the Lannisters their gold mines. The Targaryens got stuck with mines that only contained some sort of dark glass. It would cost more to mine it than the profit it would yield. The only use he saw for it was to make small ornaments or jewellery from it.”

“I never went inside so I can’t really confirm this. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a look. One more reason to go to Dragonstone.” Ser Barristan looked at Davos when he uttered his last sentence. 

“I’ll alert Samwell,” Davos promised. “This information could substantially shorten his search.”

“Ser Barristan?” Davos used this opportunity to relay Jon’s orders to the knight. “Jon wishes for you to depart for Essos when we reach the Driftmark. He wants you to sail to Pentos the same day the others receive the intelligence from our scout ship that it is safe for them to occupy Dragonstone. If all goes well, the Princess will be in Westeros by the time her safety and comfort can be guaranteed on Dragonstone.” 

“I will be honoured to escort the Princess home.” Ser Barristan said truthfully.

“Sandor can you organise messengers and ravens? You can ask Sam to assist you. I want a messenger to make haste and catch up with Robb Stark if he can, or travel all the way to Winterfell himself if he cannot. A raven to White Harbour is also top priority. This raven needs to be followed by a messenger carrying the official decrees.  
Furthermore we need to prepare ravens for our allies.” Davos proceed to cite names. “

“Can you write that down for me? Only way to ensure I will do this right and not fuck it up.” Sandor complained.

“Excellent idea, I’ll do that right away.” Davos addressed the entire group now. “Let’s all start so we can reconvene before supper.

 

***

In the meanwhile Jon had made good progress. He was glad he had dressed warmly. Sandor had been right all these years ago. You really could freeze to death if you weren’t careful. Luckily Rhaegal’s body heat warmed Jon’s legs and lower part of his body. If Jon got too cold he opened his mind a bit further and let Rhaegal’s warmth flow through his body. The dragon even enjoyed these moments of unity. Rhaegal and Viserion didn’t seem to mind the cold, at least not yet.

It was rather dark when Jon landed south of Castle Black. He hoped the dragons could remain undetected until he had a chance to speak to his great-great-uncle. As far as he had been able to make out from high up in the air, all eyes on top of the Wall were surveying the lands north of the ice structure and were not paying any attention to what flew in from the south.

He had to knock on the gate several times before he heard a noise. He saw a small hatch being opened and a guard peak through it. “Who goes there? State your name and purpose.”

“My name is Jon Celtigar. I received an urgent message from your Maester. I am alone. Let me in so I can explain in more detail inside.” He spoke with an authority that had immediate effect.  
Jon heard a command being shouted. Moments later the large door opened slowly. Ten heavily armed men of the Night’s Watch watched him enter. _‘I am glad they are taking their safety serious. I must however talk to Jeor Mormont about guarding the south at night as well.’_ Jon mused while he entered.

He noticed Jeor Mormont hurrying towards them. “What is the meaning of all this?” the man’s voice boomed over the courtyard. “Why has the gate been opened?”

“A visitor has arrived. He claims he was summoned by Maester Aemon, Lord Commander.” The guard who had let Jon enter explained.

“Jon Celtigar,” Jon introduced himself. “We met several years ago, Lord Commander. I need to speak to Maester Aemon on business that cannot be delayed. It concerns the scouting party Benjen Stark has accompanied.”

Jeor Mormont scanned the courtyard. “Did you come here on foot or did you just drop out of the sky?” Mormont now recalled the strange boy that had visited the Wall when he was just a kid. He also remembered how the boy had been cooped up inside the Maester’s study for large parts of his days.

“We do not have time for this.” Jon tried to govern his temper. “Do you want the scouting party to come back alive or not?”

“And you will make a difference how exactly?” The Lord Commander asked in a condescending manner.

“Does it really hurt anyone to let me speak to Maester Aemon? I told you before he requested my presence and will be waiting for me as we speak.” Jon tried once more to get the man to comply. He was getting impatient. Every moment of delay could mean possible disaster for the scouting party.

“The Maester is probably asleep by now.” Mormont really didn’t know how much stranger this situation could get. “I repeat: did you come here on foot?”

“Never mind, I can find my own way.” Jon swiftly ducked one man and quickly disappeared into the building where he knew his uncle lived.

Jeor Mormont signalled his men to let him be. He would sit back and let the situation unfold. How much harm could one boy cause anyway. The Watch was safe.  
“Look outside and see if you can find a horse or a wagon. And ask the men on top whether they have seen something suspicious coming in from the south.” 

Jaremy Rykker hated to give the bad news to his Lord Commander. “Lord Commander, did you forget you specifically ordered all eyes to be directed north?” He hesitated to elaborate how his superior had justified his command by stating the Wildlings no longer scaled the Wall since their tentative pact and the threat to the north was top priority now. He also wanted to be alerted at the first sight of his loyal men returning and to do that they had to watch the north side. 

Jeor Mormont sighed at the words of his Master at Arms. He had sent his most experienced ranger, Qhorin Halfhand and a promising young ranger Edd Tollet alongside Benjen Stark on this ridiculous scouting mission to prove that the White Walkers had risen again. He was eager to see his best men return.

Rykker tried to placate his commander. “I will personally scout the area outside the south gate. If there is something out there, trust me, I will find it.”

“Take enough torches with you. It is already dark out there. And do not go too far. You can always restart your search tomorrow at first light.” Mormont agreed to his request.

Jaremy Rykker, formerly known as Ser Jaremy Rykker a member of House Rykker a noble house in the Crownlands and fervent Targaryen supporter had ended up at the Wall after the Rebellion when the defaet of Prince Rhaegar at the Trident had meant immediate doom for all Targaryen loyalists. Given the choice between death and the Wall he had taken the latter and chosen to live. He had made a life here and worked himself up to Master at Arms. He took a torch in his hand, lit it and exited the courtyard. He motioned the guards to stay back. He would go alone. He would make a half-hearted attempt just to appease his Lord Commander. It was pitch dark outside. The search would be fruitless now anyway.

After a while he decided to give up. The only thing he had noticed was some faint light and smoke coming from the woods more than four miles from the Wall. If the young Lord had hidden his co-travellers there, they would still be there for him to find on the morrow. He memorised the position of the smoke and went back inside.

 

In the meantime, Jon had reached the door of his uncle’s room without encountering further resistance. He knocked and entered not waiting for an invitation. A young steward was reading something aloud and startled at the unexpected stranger that entered. Clearly nobody had heard his knock.

“Maester Aemon?” Jon called for his uncle.

Pyp, leaves us please. You can retire. I will no longer need your services tonight.” Sensing the hesitation of the young man the old Maester added. “Do not worry. This is a good friend who has come a long way to pay an old man a visit.”

Pyp rose and smiled apologetically at the newcomer.

Jon introduced himself. “Lord Celtigar. I’m pleased the Maester has such loyal friends. Thank you Pyp.” The young man’s smile broadened and he left the room reassured the old Maester would be okay.

“Aegon, did you travel here on Rhaegal?” Maester Aemon couldn’t conceal his curiosity any longer. “Where did you leave him?”

Jon was taken aback by the sight of his uncle. The man had not aged well these last few years. He tried to keep his tone light in order to hide his shock. “Actually I brought both dragons, Uncle. It is already rather dark outside and nobody was watching this side of the Wall. And yes I did fly here on Rhaegal’s back. It is an amazing thing, Uncle to fly through the air like that. I landed and told both dragons to wait for me in the woods several miles south of the Wall. As far as I can tell nobody suspects a thing.”

“And here I thought our defenses had improved over the years. I will have a word with the Lord Commander about this.” He tilted his head toward Aegon. He had heard the young man settle down on the small stool he had used so many years ago.”

“Let me hug you, my boy. It has been so long. I feared I would never meet you again. I’ve been growing tired lately. I do not know why the Citadel has not sent us another Maester yet. I fear I will have to fake my death in order for them to do so. “

Jon kneeled before the frail body of his uncle and hugged him carefully. “Your letters have been my constant guides over the years, Uncle. I hope you will live to celebrate many namedays yet. Now please tell me what I need to know so I can be on my way. Do you have a map or can you point me in the right direction?”

“But it is dark outside.” His uncle exclaimed.

“I can use the fires on top of the Wall to orientate myself and I figure the scouting party will be very visible since they will defend themselves with a lot of fire. They will be easier to spot by night than in broad daylight. I will not be able to sleep tonight anyway. All I can think of is what if we are already too late. I came as soon as I could and I will not lose another instant.”

“I understand, my boy. I have a map right there on the table. They are north west of the Fist of the First Men. If you draw a straight line from Castle Black to the Fist on the map, you visualise the angle you need to fly if you take the straight line the Wall forms as your starting point. Oh and take that piece of glass as well. I put the dragon glass dagger your Uncle Benjen left here for research purposes next to the map. If you happen to come across the enemy, this dagger will do more damage than a steel sword.”

“Thank you, Uncle. If you don’t mind I’ll be off now. Could you do me a favour and send a raven to Sea Dragon Point to let them know I have arrived safely at Castle Black?”

“I will do that tomorrow at first light. Take care, Aegon. I still have a lot to tell you. Be sure to come back.” His Targaryen uncle called after him.

“I will, Uncle. Stay safe as well.” Jon left the room and hurried across the courtyard. When he arrived at the gate Jon addressed the same guard who let him enter before. “I would like to leave now please. Can you open the gates once more?” 

The men on duty were taken by surprise. One of them opened the little hatch and checked if all was clear on the other side. They opened the gate just wide enough for Jon to walk through and closed it again.” 

Not wanting to loose anymore time Jon checked to be certain the gate and the little hatch were closed. He called for his dragons to come to him while he was running toward them distancing himself from the Wall. He could sense Rhaegal flying toward him and knew Viserion would be close behind. It was too dark to see anything. _‘Give me a small flame so I can see you’_ , he sent the image to Rhaegal. He immediately saw the flame flying towards him. Moments later he had mounted Rhaegal and they were off. _‘Hold on Uncle Benjen, I am almost there’_ , he thought. He flew over the Wall and told his dragons to fly without lighting the way until they were far enough from the Wall. 

Little did he know that Jaremy Rykker had seen him leave and had watched him run toward a light in the dark. Rykker wasn’t sure what he had seen exactly but he would keep an eye on that young man if he ever came back for a visit. He fervently hoped his eyes hadn’t betrayed him.

 

**Interlude 13: A popular Princess**

 

Princess Daenerys made her usual stroll across the colourful market. Once every sennight she would indulge herself and saunter past the many stalls tasting all kinds of fruit or buying a bit of silk. Lately they had increased her already impressive surveillance. Word had it that the Dothraki were encamped rather close to the city. 

But it was not the presence of the Dothraki that bothered her. Two sennights ago, Prince Quentyn Martell had arrived at the mansion, citing they were good family and it was high time they got to know each other. At first the Prince had been very charming and polite. Daenerys had been flattered by his attentions. Nevertheless she had kept her guard up and had tried to ferret out who had sent him to her. Jon had never once mentioned Dorne being in on his schemes. Only Prince Oberyn was a close ally but Jon had emphasised that Prince Oberyn acted separate from his brother Prince Doran. She was extra careful never to betray Jon’s existence and had instructed her household not to mention her nephew’s existence either. 

Prince Quentyn had offered her sanctuary in Dorne on several occasions. When she didn’t accept, he kept coming up with reasons for her to live with them in Westeros. Although the conversations became tedious, she always made the effort to be graceful in her refusals. Yesterday however the Prince had dropped all pretence and had formally proposed marriage. She had been in a bit of a bind. She certainly didn’t want to be pressured into marrying him. However there was no way she could tell him that she needed a formal approval of the head of House Targaryen. She had rejected him, citing she had a previous betrothal that needed to remain a secret for political reasons. To her it was not strictly a lie. It was something she hoped would become true sometime.  
The Prince had not been deterred. Ever since he had doubled his efforts to find some time alone with her. Daenerys never let him within six feet of her without having her Septa by her side and at least three armed guards. Even during the shortest trip inside her own home she had at least two guards tailing her. She was counting the days until he would relent and return to Dorne.

Prince Quentyn was not the first suitor she had turned down. Over the years many a rich merchant or impoverished noble had courted her. She however had either politely refused them or barred them entrance when they became too insistent. 

She was just perusing a book on her favourite bookstand at the local market when she spotted Prince Quentyn coming her way. She looked around to see where her guards were. She panicked when she couldn’t find them immediately. It seemed she had underestimated the Prince. He had somehow lured her guards away without arousing her suspicion. The bookstall happened to be next to a small alley. He had planned it well. Before she knew it, he had her cornered at the back end of the little alley. His body sheltered hers from view. She stood in a corner and had only a small space to manoeuvre to her right. When she took a step in that direction he immediately mirrored her movement. 

“I hate to do it this way. You can still consent to be my wife and marry me today. If not...” He came closer and grabbed both her shoulders. “I am sure I can think of another way to persuade you.”

The sneer on his face made Daenerys wonder how she could ever have thought him charming. Her brain was working overtime trying to find a way out of her current predicament. Without any warning she let out a big scream. Then she followed it up by a cry for help before he could clamp her mouth shut.

When Daenerys saw a fearsome half naked man with a braid approach in answer to her cry for help, she wondered whether her desperate move had not gotten her into even more trouble.  
Before Prince Quentyn even noticed the intruder, he had been struck unconscious. The savage looking man grinned at Daenerys. “No cry, safe now.”

Daenerys nodded her head in thanks but could not totally lift the anxious expression from her face. She calmed down when she looked in him the eyes and realised he did not mean to harm her. His warm brown eyes expressed admiration but not the calculated and sometimes lusty look Prince Quentyn didn’t try to hide from her any longer. The smile on her saviour’s face looked sincere.

“Beauty have man, no?” The man really turned on his charm now exposing a row of fine white teeth when he smiled at her.

Daenerys was too stunned to answer. 

Suddenly the warrior turned around, some kind of curved blade held out before him. Daenerys saw Ser Jorah and two of her houseguard running up the ally, their swords drawn.

“Daenerys touched her saviour’s arm. “Please do not hurt them, they are my guards.” She had just realised he must be a Dothraki. Who else had a braid reaching down below one’s waist? The curved blade had been the final piece of the puzzle.

The man who shielded her body from view turned his head toward her, still holding his arakh before him ready to slice at anyone who dared to come closer. “Guards? No husband?” He pronounced these words with a very thick accent. 

“Guards,” she affirmed. “Friends.”

The Dothraki studied her closely before stepping aside. He addressed Ser Jorah. “Keep woman safe for you.” He simply stated. 

“And we thank you for it, Ser.” Ser Jorah bowed to him. He studied the body of Prince Quentyn Martell lying on the ground and checked if the young man was still breathing. Then he looked up at his Princess. “You are not harmed, my Princess?”

“Just very scared I hate to admit. Where were you when I needed you?” She had been worried he had been hurt or worse. But here he was safe and sound. She hoped he had a good explanation for deserting her.

“We got blocked by a cart that capsized before our feet. The streets are very narrow and it took us some time to climb over it. I apologise Princess, we should have spread out more. That way they would not have been able to get to all of us at the same time. I seems I have become complacent and will take measures. Please accept my sincerest apologies.” Ser Jorah explained looking very contrite.

Daenerys didn’t have a chance to react because the Dothraki spoke up once more, a reverent expression having appeared on his face. “Princess? You Khaleesi? Me Khal. Khal Drogo.” The big man mimicked Ser Jorah’s bow.

Daenerys had to admit he did so elegantly for such a large man. She smiled and curtsied in return. “Nice to meet you, Khal Drogo. I am very grateful for your help. Is it your Khalasar that is camped outside of Pentos?” Daenerys was more at ease now. She didn’t believe he meant her any harm and besides she had three guards to fall back on. She spotted a fourth one at the entrance of the ally. He was preventing the curious crowd that had gathered there from entering.

“Yes, me big Khal, big Khalasar. Pentos buy horses.” Khal Drogo tried to impress her, his dark eyes never left her face.

 _‘Great, one suitor down, another one takes his place’_ , Daenerys thought and had to keep a solemn face to prevent herself from rolling her eyes or giggling out loud at the comic situation. She owed it to him to stay polite at the very least. “Let me invite you to our home to give you proper thanks for saving me from this attack, Khal Drogo.” She offered.

“Kay,” the Khal smiled from ear to ear now. “You live big thing on hill. I see once.” 

“Princess, is this wise?” Ser Jorah whispered having followed their interactions with astonishment and apprehension.

She replied in High Valyrian but kept her voice down all the same. “Better befriend him than make him an enemy.” She switched back to the common tongue. See to it that Quentyn Martell does not wake up before he finds himself on a boat on the open sea heading back to Dorne.”

“Consider it done, Princess.” Ser Jorah gave orders to two of her houseguards and handed them money to buy passage for the unconscious man.

They arrived at the mansion without further incident. The presence of Khal Drogo had done wonders to disperse the onlookers that blocked the alley. He had shouted an order to two fierce looking Dothrakis. They followed him at a discreet distance.

When they entered the strong gates that protected Daenerys’ home, a stable boy ran up to take the horses to the stables. Drogo ordered his two companions to stay outside and wait for him there. Daenerys quickly whispered a few words in the ear of the boy. “Find your superior and ask him to find our tallest most healthy horse. You know what I mean, one the Dothraki can appreciate. I want to present it to him as a gift when he is ready to leave.” The boy looked surprised but hurried off eager to please the best employer he had served here in Pentos.

Khal Drogo entered the mansion and was inspecting everything he saw. Daenerys recalled how they lived a nomadic life and her way of living must be as strange to him as his was to hers.

“Please sit down. Can I offer you some refreshments? Drink?” She added seeing his nonplussed expression.

“Drink,” he affirmed choosing the chair closest to her. He kept observing every little detail. He studied her Septa who had entered the room and acted as a chaperone. When Moelle turned crimson he turned his attention to the three guards that didn’t leave the room and the one stationed in the corridor. Then a puzzled expression appeared on his face when he observed it was Daenerys who directed the servant and how the man obeyed her smallest request without uttering a word.

“Woman give orders? Not husband?” he asked perplexed by the situation.

“Yes, they answer to me.” She offered him some fruit which he took but the questioning look stayed on his face.

“No husbaaand.” He slurred the last part of that word. “Woman obey husband no?”

This was her opening to stop his intentions. A little white lie to protect herself wouldn’t hurt anyone. “My husband is across the Narrow Sea. I will travel to him shortly.” He looked questioningly at her and she tried once more. “I have a husband he is across the sea. Sea,” she repeated and pointed at the shores. Big water. We travel across it by boat. And live where the water stops. Westeros.”

She saw he understood. “Westeros no good. Poison waters no good.”

“You do not have to drink the water. Just use it to travel across it in a ship.”

The Khal’s attention was no longer on the water. “Husband good, brave, strong? Khaleesi not like husband then Drogo can kill.”

“No,” Daenerys stopped him. “I have a very good husband, very kind. He will soon come to get me. We will both leave and travel to Westeros. He is Khal in Westeros.”

Khal Drogo deflated a bit but seemed to accept this explanation. “Husband Khal then kay.” He rose to his feet and put his breast forward. He was a head taller than Ser Jorah and liked to show off his height. “Khal Drogo leave now.” He addressed Ser Jorah. “You guard, Khaleesi safe.” 

Ser Jorah nodded his assent. “I will, I promise.”

Daenerys accompanied him outside where a beautiful stallion was stomping his feet impatiently. 

“Please accept this humble offering. It is my thanks to you for saving me.” She watched him admire the horse. As far as she could tell he liked what he saw.

After thorough inspection of the horse, the Khal turned his attention to her. He then sighed and accepted the gift. He handed the reigns to one of his fellow Dothrakis who had entered the courtyard. He executed another awkward bow and mounted his own horse. One last time he stared deeply into her eyes, this time with apparent regret before swiftly turning his horse and riding out of the gates without looking back.

“Are you sure that was wise, Princess?” Ser Jorah asked having witnessed the entire scene. “Aren’t you afraid he will try something? He seemed much taken with you.” 

Daenerys answered him standing her ground. “Now that my debt is paid and he accepted the horse, his honour will prevent him from robbing us or doing me any harm. Yes, I do believe this was a wise move Ser Jorah. I have read a book about their customs and social behaviour. I have paid my debt and he will respect my virtue because he believes I am the wife of someone he considers an equal. A Khal will never steal another Khal’s wife as long as his rival is alive. The dishonourable conduct of the Dornish Prince is a greater threat. He was going to rape me. He believed that way I would have no other recourse but to marry him. You should concentrate your efforts on keeping such men from me.”

“I will do as you ask, Princess. As soon as I hear back from the men who tended to Prince Quentyn, I will inform you. And I will take extra security measures when you visit the market in a sennight. You will not have to give up your only excursion outside these walls or feel unsafe doing it. That I vow to you.” Ser Jorah bowed his head.

Princess Daenerys acknowledged his promise with a nod of her head and went back inside. She planned to write another long letter to her nephew. She hoped the talk of all these suitors harassing her would urge Aegon to move up his time table and let her come to Westeros as soon as possible. As far as she could tell by his written reports, he had the means to keep her safe already. She didn’t necessarily have to live on Dragonstone. She would be willing to travel with him. Three fully staffed ships surely were enough to keep her safe? Sometimes she wondered whether he would ever come for her at all.

 

***

 

Almost two moons after the incident with Prince Quentyn, Princess Daenerys was quietly sitting downstairs. Her Septa was reading to her from one of Jon’s books. It distracted her from her latest quandary. She would soon have to write Jon about the tentative alliance the Tyrells had offered her. She was hesitant however. Her fear was that her nephew could possibly jump on the opportunity and offer her hand to the Tyrell’s in exchange for the support of a prospering kingdom. 

She realised her musings had distracted her and she had missed part of the story. “I’m sorry Moelle. My thoughts wandered for a bit. Can you read that last paragraph again please?”

Before the Septa could comply, Ser Jorah entered the room. “Princess, a visitor to see you.”

Daenerys sighed. “If it is another suitor, please send him on his way. I had my fill of them for now. Tell him I am already married or use another excuse to get rid of him. If this continues, I will have to up my guard.”

Ser Jorah smiled. “I am fairly certain this man is not another suitor, Princess. I believe he will be a most welcome visitor.” He gestured the man to enter the room.

“May I present to you Ser Barristan the Bold, former Kingsguard of your brother Prince Rhaegar, currently serving your nephew Prince Aegon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon meets the Free Folk and changes his priorities  
> The interlude will take us to the Reach.


	14. Changing priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon to the rescue.  
> Lady Olenna is hedging her bets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my universe, Mace Tyrell has two sons, Willas and Loras and one daughter, Margaery.  
> Another long chapter, I hope you all enjoy reading it.  
> This work is still unbeta'd.

**Somewhere north west of the Fist of the First Men.**

“We’re fucked!” Tormund was exhausted. Once more it had been a long night. “We’re trapped out here. How long can we go on like this?”

“I believe there is still enough wood in the immediate environment to last us a few nights. We’ll take shifts again alternating between sleeping and gathering wood.” Benjen Stark tried to stay calm although he was cold, bone-tired and close to giving up himself. He was sitting down with his back leaning against Qhorin Halfhand’s back so they could provide each other the welcome support they would normally seek against a tree. It was not safe yet to leave the circle of fire they constructed each night around their small encampment. All their belongings lay in the center, their weapons within easy reach. The men huddled close together forming a ring around the heap of furs, armour and provisions. The fire they lighted every night encircled them, providing everyone just enough room the stretch their legs.

“The only thing left is pray to the Gods they will tire of this game and leave us alone.” Tormund muttered. Then he spoke up for all to hear. “They are just toying with us. They have all the time in the world and probably know we’ll eventually grow weak from hunger and cold.”

“Or run out of wood before that,” the Thenn grumbled.

Benjen didn’t like that man and always sat furthest away from him if he could help it. He had forgotten his name. Tormund Giantsbane hardly ever addressed his men by name. If he needed to get someone’s attention, he used an insulting term to address them. Benjen was impressed with the extent of the man’s vocabulary. Giantsbane had yet to use a jibe twice.

It was a diverse group he travelled with. Tormund Giantsbane was here to represent Mance Rayder. He was the King beyond the Wall’s second in command. The big man had a feral look about him. His unkept beard was almost longer than his fiery red hair, the wind tussling both into tangled messes. Benjen guessed it hadn’t been combed for years. His best features were is blue eyes. The man was a giant. Although now that Benjen had met actual giants, it was better to state that the man was just taller than any other man he knew. Somehow Giantsbane was able to get this band of misfits to function together without killing each other. 

Each Wildling represented a different clan of the Free Folk. They were recognizable by their different attire and tattoos. There were of course more clans, but Mance Rayder had decided a group of ten would be more productive than a larger group. Besides even Giantsbane’s leadership skills would have trouble keeping a larger group in line, or so had the King Beyond the Wall confessed to Benjen Stark. 

The Watch had also sent two representatives along. Qhorin Halfhand had been the obvious choice since he was the only crow who had earned the respect of the Free Folk. The other one was a young ranger named Edd Tollet. Qhorin Halfhand saw potential in the young man and was grooming him to become a leading ranger. Benjen Stark was here because he got stuck with representing the Warden of the North on this mission. Instead of returning to Jon after he had dropped off Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth at Winterfell, his brother had ordered him to help assess the threat at the Wall. Benjen knew the situation beyond the Wall was not getting any better and his conscience had told him it was the right thing to do.

Benjen heard Rattlebone complain. “You wouldn’t try my plan to move our position during daylight. It would have been slow going but we could eventually have encountered a group of Free Folk and stood more of a chance to eradicate these dead fuckers.” The man still wasn’t happy his suggestion had been overruled. Rattlebone had shifted slightly while he spoke, rattling the bones fixed to his sinister coat. 

“I explained to you before that I promised Mance Rayder I wouldn’t reveal the location of any Free Folk settlement. For all we know, these dead cunts are just waiting for us to do just that. Scare us but not kill us. It is fucking likely they want us to reach our people. Perhaps a large army of dead cunts is just lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood waiting for us to make a move so they can find more of our kin to turn into dead fuckers. As far as I am concerned I prefer to give the enemy a mere ten new recruits instead of several clans of the Free Folk”. Tormund Giantsbane’s authority had kept the men in line so far. Benjen didn’t envy him. It certainly was not easy being the leader of such a dysfunctional group.

Giantsbane reminded Benjen somewhat of Sandor Clegane. He was sure Sandor Clegane and Tormund Giantsbane would make for lively entertainment on a cold and dreary winter's day. He was undecided which one of the two had the more colourful vocabulary. His daydreaming was interrupted when the representative of the cave people spoke up. “Then we are truly fucked. Why still bother resisting?”

“You know,” Benjen Stark remarked an absent expression on his face. “There exists this one person who can help us and I told him not to.” A sad smile ghosted over his face. Their mission had been a fool’s errand and doomed to fail. They had been out here for almost a moon and not a single White Walker had been spotted, only a lot of these so called wights. The sole purpose of this mission was to convince the crows and the Warden of the North that these White Walkers really existed. 

Ten pairs of unbelieving eyes met Benjen’s “You know a fucking God, Stark? You cannot make us believe that a single human could solve our predicament, most certainly not a single southerner. We need a fucking army preferably one armed to the teeth with dragonglass. We are completely surrounded and are only alive because those dead fuckers are vulnerable to fire and somehow do not function during the day so we get a reprieve to hunt for food and gather extra wood.” Tormund Giantsbane exclaimed.

“Do you think your crows would send an army to fetch you if we could get a message to them?” Orell interjected.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We have no ravens left.” Benjen was quick to point out to the strange man. He was a singular fellow. This must have been one of the first times Benjen had heard him speak. Usually his unnerving stare kept everyone at bay. A moon in his company had taught Benjen that the man kept to himself and only communicated with Tormund Giantsbane. 

“Could you guide your eagle such a distance, Orell?” Tormund looked at him. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

Orell looked in Stark’s direction with disdain. “How will that southerner react to a skinchanger?”

“I don’t give a fuck about his reaction if it means we still have a chance to survive this. Fuck Orell, we could have sent for help days ago!” Tormund was almost shouting now.

“What’s a skinchanger?” Benjen kept his tone level in the hope of calming things down. “Are you trying to tell me you can enter the mind of an eagle?”

“What if I could?” A defiant Orell fixed his strange eyes on him.

“I would call you a warg. You would not be the first one I encountered. I know of one south of the Wall.” Benjen stated in a matter of fact tone trying not be the one to look away first.

His words startled Orell whose eyes widened even more. 

“Enough with the eye fucking already,” Tormund always a man of action was getting impatient. “We’ve already lost valuable daylight. Stark, do your word writing thing and let’s get a message on its way. If you do know a fucking God, I’d say now is the time to beg for his help.” It was a halfhearted joke but Benjen Stark contemplated his words in earnest. It could be worth a try.

Giantsbane addressed four men who had witnessed the scene and were now talking animatedly among each other.  
“You idle cunts, start fetching wood and wake us when the sun has reached its peak. I’ll take first watch. The rest of you lot try to catch some sleep. That goes for you too, big friend of a mighty God. Get some rest when you’re done scribbling.”

“I’ll go with them.” Qhorin Halfhand rose to his feet and stretched his stiff limbs. Giantsbane nodded his assent and watched them leave.

Benjen observed Orell closely when the man lifted his head upward his eyes turning white. It was a disturbing sight. He had seen Jon warg before but the boy always closed his eyes. Soon enough an eagle landed on Orell’s shoulder.

Benjen had written a short but subtle message to Maester Aemon. He would not explicitly ask for Jon to send a dragon. He would hand the responsibility of this decision over to the Maester. He carefully attached the small scroll to a leg of the large bird. All the while the eagle watched him with the same unsettling stare as Orell often used. Benjen was relieved when the scroll was secured and the eagle flew away in the direction of Castle Black. Now all they had to do was stay alive as long as possible and pray help would come whilst they still drew breath. Well at least there was a shimmer of hope now.

 

***

 

Two days later they were preparing for another long night of keeping these creepy walking dead men at bay. Benjen stood alert in the small space. He examined the circle of fire thoroughly. A few nights ago the fire had died down in one spot and several wights had been able to enter their space before they had had a chance to rekindle the fire.  
Luckily the few pieces of obsidian the Free Folk had brought with them had been enough to destroy the dead that had gotten through.

The first time Benjen had seen the Free Folk put down an undead soldier with a piece of dark glass he had been stunned. Ordinary steel did not deter the enemy, even if one cut of a piece of a wight’s body, the rest of the corpse just kept attacking. But just a small cut with a dagger made of volcanic glass and the creatures turned to ash and bones. You didn’t even need to stab a vital part of them, any hit would do. It had taken Benjen some effort to persuade Mance Rayder to loan him a dagger to take with him to Castle Black. The Free Folk only had a few of them left and they considered these more valuable than anything else. The small daggers were the only effective weapon they possessed aside from fire.

When Benjen had shown the dagger to Maester Aemon, the man had touched the cold material with a thoughtful expression on his face. He had called for Jeor Mormont and in the old arsenal with discarded weapons they had found a small stack of this material. Maester Aemon had asked the Lord Commander to assign two of his most educated men to help him search the books on the Long Night. They would also browse through the old reports from previous Lord Commanders of the Night’s Watch. Jeor Mormont had sent two stewards that were able to read to help the old Maester. 

Benjen hoped he could make good on his promise to Mance Rayder. He prayed they could somehow find more of this material. He had urged Maester Aemon to read up on all of the known mines in Westeros.

A shout from Tormund Giantsbane had all his senses on alert. “Here they come. Form up in a circle and do not let the fire go out. The large man had a small dagger in one hand and a torch in the other. Benjen preferred the combination of his glass dagger and sword. The steel sword didn’t kill the wights but it could cripple them. A corpse without legs was not so big a threat anymore. He had cut countless wights in half these last few nights. 

Suddenly a large ice spear was thrown their way. They were completely taken by surprise. It had been thrown with superior force and the spear pierced Qhorin Halfhand’s torso. The man died instantly. Everyone froze. This was no longer a mindless attack of numb creatures that seemed to have no brains. This was a calculated move of a powerful enemy. 

“Use your shields,” Giantsbane shouted, “and for fuck’s sake move his body and burn it. I will not fight a blue eyed undead Qhorin if I can help it. There must be a White Walker near. Scouts have described them carrying such spears. Keep your eyes and ears open. If I am right and a White Fuck is near, this will be an even more trying night.”

“One by one they left their circle to fetch shields and the few pieces of armour they had stacked in the middle of their little safe haven. The others made sure to close the gap and defend the entire perimeter.”

“Is it me or are there more wights out there than before?” the Thenn remarked.

“Stop talking and keep fending them off”. Giantsbane ordered with laboured breath. “If some of us fail we all fall. One gap and we will be overrun, there are too many of them.” 

The night was not yet half way through but Benjen Stark was already getting desperate. His swordarm ached. The screeching of the wights was deafening. As far as the light of their circle of fire allowed him to see, hundreds of wights stood waiting to replace their fallen brothers. It was hopeless. He knew praying would do him no good but he still turned his head upwards for a small moment to send a quick prayer to the old Gods. It looked as if his plea got an instant answer. A large light lit up the sky. A moment later the ground seemed to catch fire too.

“What the fuck is that?” Giantsbane called out. Everyone looked at the large flames that descended from the sky, burning through their enemy before their very eyes. Benjen narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly. He could now distinguish two large shadows. By the Gods, there actually were two dragons spouting fire and systematically pushing the enemy back. Jon had answered his call and sooner than expected. 

“That’s my fucking friend I sent the message to remember!” Benjen called out looking smug. The wights had stalled their attack and Benjen’s companions all stared with utter awe at the two large creatures that flew in wide circles, always changing direction to avoid becoming a target but raining fire in an effective pattern forcing the enemy to retreat.  
Benjen was proud of his nephew. He couldn’t have devised a better tactic himself.  
The fires lit up their direct environment and the men on the ground could now discern the small figure on one of the powerful flying beasts. They stared with open mouth.

When Jon was sure that a large area around the defensive circle was cleared of the enemy, he ordered Rhaegal down, loosened the two bags he had brought with him and dismounted. He urged the green dragon to take to the sky again. ‘You’ll be safer up there and can keep an eye out for the enemy.’ he sent the thought to Rhaegal’s mind.

Benjen tempered the fire on one side so Jon could enter their little circle. The hugged each other desperately. “What took you so long? Benjen’s joke fell flat. 

“Why didn’t you send for me sooner?” Jon reproached. “However did you survive this long? Do they always attack in such large numbers? I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” Jon looked around and saw the Free Folk stare at him with adoration in their eyes.

Tormund Giantsbane came forward and spoke up. “You are very powerful. We are lucky you fight on our side. How do you command those fire creatures?”

“They are called dragons.” Jon hesitated not knowing how to address the man.

“This is Tormund Giantsbane. The right hand of the King Beyond the Wall.” His uncle helped Jon. “Tormund Giantsbane, meet my kinsmen,” he hesitated on the name, “Jon Targaryen.” He finished. When Jon rode dragons he was a true Targaryen. He sent a wordless apology to his nephew.

“They obey you? Tormund repeated his question. “You can call me Tormund.”

“They do, Tormund. You see, I raised them ever since they hatched and were no larger than a kitten. They consider me their parent.”

“He is also a skinchanger and can control them that way as well.” Benjen added knowing that would earn Jon even more respect.

Orell stepped forward and kneeled before Jon. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance. I have only heard very old stories of mythical wargs controlling such large beasts. 

The other leaders of the Free Folk kneeled as well.

Jon took in the scene and was completely at a loss. The most heard statement of the Free Folk was that they were free and kneeled to no one.

“Please get up.” Jon was really embarrassed now. “We are not safe yet. It is still a long way to Castle Black. And I do not know if I can stay with you the entire time. I promised I would only be gone for a few days.”

“Let’s get through this night first. Tomorrow morning we will start our trek back.” Tormund had been the first one back on his feet. The others were slowly following his example. Orell reluctantly left his kneeling position.

“I brought furs, food and something to drink with me that will keep you warm. Also a few weapons but just the one dagger made of volcanic glass I am afraid. If you are low on food, my dragons can hunt for you in the morning.”

“Jon behind you! " Benjen yelled. 

Jon instinctively ducked the spear that now flew over his head before turning around and drawing Blackfyre from its scabbard. He immediately pounced forward stabbing the figure that approached him by stepping over the wood where the fire had been extinguished by his uncle earlier. It looked like a man entirely made of ice. _‘A white Walker’,_ he realised. _‘Damn I should have drawn the glass dagger.’_ But before he could even finish that thought the creature before him exploded in a thousand ice crystals. Numerous wights that had come running up behind it all fell lifeless to the ground.

The members of the Free Folk who had drawn their weapons once more upon hearing Benjen Stark cry out were speechless. The boy clearly was magic, that or he came straight from the Gods.

“You just slew a fucking White Walker! That’s the first time I ever heard they could be destroyed! Do you have a magical sword as well, young slayer?” Again Tormund was the first one to come to his senses.

“I don’t, I didn’t …” Jon was at a loss for words. 

“It is a rare sword.” Benjen came to his nephew’s rescue. “There are only a few of these left in the realm. It is made of a material called Valyrian Steel. You will be able to see the difference with our steel swords when it grows lighter. Let’s rekindle the circle of fire and watch each other’s backs. Who knows what is still out there?”

“If you can protect me while I sit here in the middle of this circle, I will warg into my dragon to scout the environment. He handed his sword to his uncle. “Take it for now.” When his uncle hesitated he added. “Don’t worry, I will want it back the moment I am done here.”  
Jon sat down, closed his eyes and asked Rhaegal if he could fly along with him in his mind. The dragon was only too happy to comply. He didn’t like this strange cold land and the creepy enemy they had just scared away. He hadn’t seen the white shape attacking his human until it was too late. He would be glad when the light returned to the sky. Jon reassured both dragons he was all right and warged with Rhaegal asking him several times to use his flames to provide the necessary light to scan the environment for the enemy.

The Free Folk observed from their position on the ground how the dragons flew in circles over the area, little bursts of flame betraying their whereabouts. Soon they could hardly see them anymore.  
The darkness seemed to have swallowed them up.

Finally Jon stirred. He had aborted his scouting mission with Rhaegar. “I could only see a few creatures and they were moving away from us. My guess is that by defeating that White Walker, we somehow destroyed most of the army present tonight. I saw hundreds of corpses. I will ask the dragons to burn these bodies at dawn. It would not do for another White Walker to come by and raise them once more.” Jon accepted Blackfyre from his uncle and put the sword back in its scabbard.

“You believe the White Fuckers are the ones to raise these dead fuckers and they become lifeless when he is defeated?” Tormund asked.

“It is just a guess. But you all saw what happened to most of the wights when the White Walker exploded in ice crystals. Somehow they were connected.” Jon stated. “I also believe the White Walker controlled them somehow.

“So you think it is safe for now? They will not attack again tonight?” Orell asked Jon. 

“I believe so. The few that were still moving were fleeing north. We should stay vigilant though. Most of us can rest but a few will need to stand guard.” Jon looked at Giantsbane so the man knew it was up to him to assign the tasks.

“How do you control both dragons?” Orell was fascinated by the young man before him.

“Well, I can feel the dragons and link our minds. That way I can sense what they are thinking without changing into their skin. Once the link is established, I am able to send thoughts to them. If I really concentrate I can also send images to their minds. The dragons share a mental connection with each other as well. If I can reach one, he can tell the other without making a sound. I only really warg into the green dragon, I mean change into his skin, when I want to examine things from high up through his eyes or need to react very quickly to new situations. You understand?” Jon looked at the strange man beside him and saw him nod with a devoted expression in his big eyes.

“You are a warg as well?” Jon guessed.

“I am, but not as powerful. I have my eagle and I can only communicate with him if I change into his skin. If I try really hard I can warg into other small animals like ravens. But with my eagle it is easier.”

“It is the same for me.” Jon was glad to finally talk to someone who had experience with warging. “My connection to my direwolf is second nature as well. If I try to warg into the mind of an unfamiliar animal I need to concentrate a lot harder.” He had not looked up while he talked and therefore had missed the looks of complete awe on the faces of his audience.

“A direwolf? You can warg into a direwolf? That is one of the more ferocious creatures that live here.” Orell’s excitement made him raise his voice.  
All the others had heard his outburst and were waiting to see how the boy would react.

“I can. I found him when he was but a small pup. Actually, I think he found me. He entered my mind before I ever laid eyes on him. You could say he chose me.” Jon tried to explain as best as he could.

“I fucking need to introduce you to Mance Rayder. The man would give his crown to you in an instant if he had one.” Tormund’s respect for the boy knew no bounds.

“Mance Rayder? He is your King Beyond the Wall?” Jon asked. “I would like to speak to him as well. I do not know when that will be possible though. I will first have to fly back to inform my entourage of my plans.”

“What are you saying Jon?” Benjen Stark was exhausted but his tired mind had still caught the intent in Jon’s words.

“I am going to assess the situation here. I will scout during the next few days and when I am sure I can safely leave you for some time, I will fly back to my advisers and inform them of what happened here. I must convince them that the situation beyond the Wall requires our immediate attention. The Iron Throne has waited for seventeen years and can wait a few moons or longer if necessary. The safety at the Wall is also the responsibility of a true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I cannot turn my back on this. The presence of my dragons will probably mean the difference between life and death for tens of thousands of Free Folk living beyond the Wall.”

“But Jon, Ser Gerold, your Kingsguard?” Benjen understood what his nephew was trying to say but he knew very well an outsider would not easily believe what was going on beyond the Wall. Hells, he hadn’t believed the full extent of the situation himself before this night.

“I will try to explain to them what is happening here. If we do not help now, the army of the dead will only grow its numbers. If we stall too long we will probably have to fight an army that has absorbed all of the Free Folk and numbers over a hundred thousand strong. If I can make Ser Gerold understand this, there will be no further discussion. Besides, we have a very good strategy: target the White Walkers. If I can scout from up high and know long in advance where they are, we can adapt our positions.”

Although the two southerners had been speaking in a low voice and faced each other, the representatives of the Free Folk had tried to follow this conversation and had picked up most of the content. Again Tormund was their spokesmen. “You are King of the Southerners and you volunteer to help us Free Folk?”

Jon startled. This was a new situation for him. First Uncle Benjen had exposed him as a Targaryen and now a whole bunch of strangers just overheard his plans to overthrow King Robert. He decided to throw caution to the wind and be straightforward for once. He looked Tormund Giantsbane in the eye and his voice rang clear when he justified his future actions.  
“I am no King yet. My grandfather was King. My father was murdered as were my siblings and our throne was stolen. Loyal people hid me when I was a baby. Now that I am an adult and my dragons have grown up as well, I will force the man that murdered my family from the throne and become King. I intend to do this step by step, hopefully without the use of my dragons. I do not want to harm the people of the Seven Kingdoms, they were not at fault. But yes, I hope that within several moons I will be King of the Southerners. I will carry the title of _‘Protector of the Realm’._ That means I will protect you who live in the north just as I would help the people that live in the south if they were threatened by an enemy they couldn’t fend off themselves.” Jon exhaled deeply. Somehow he felt lighter. Something about this group made him drop his guard. Amongst them, he could be himself for once and not pretend.

“If you help us defeat these white fuckers and keep our families safe, I will personally help you kill the cunt that murdered your family and has stolen your throne.” Tormund promised immediately.

“I hope it won’t come to that. My plan is to persuade most of his allies to my side by diplomacy and to bluff or intimidate Robert Baratheon into giving up the throne. But I’ll keep your promise in mind Tormund, thank you. Now does anyone want a drink? I brought a special brew that should keep you warm. And if anyone needs extra furs or another weapon, help yourselves.”  
Drinks were shared and toasts made. Jon used the opportunity to eat something as well. Then he claimed one fur and lay down on the ground. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to catch some sleep. I have come a long way and it has been some time since I had a bit of rest.”

“You can sleep soundly, Southern King. I will personally see to it that your magic sword will not be stolen from you.” Tormund promised Jon.  
Benjen smiled. Leave it to Jon to win some of the fiercest warriors of the Free Folk over in less than half a night. He couldn’t wait to tell Ned.

“What will your fire beasts do while you rest?” Orell asked. He had not let the fascinating young man out of his sight and would try to learn everything he could from him. 

Jon closed his eyes for just a short moment. “The dragons have found a cave and are resting now. They will hunt for food in the morning.” Jon reassured Orell. He pulled the furs around him and fell asleep almost instantly.

Benjen watched his nephew’s even breaths. He marveled at the fact that the boy was instantly at ease in such a cold and rough environment. Not to mention falling asleep among Wildlings he had just met and who already kissed the ground he walked on. He lay down next to him trying to combine their body heat and threw his black furs over the both of them. It was cold out but the heat of the fires encircling them kept them from freezing. People at court would never believe this. Could you imagine Prince Joffrey sleeping outside in the cold amongst uneducated strangers without any comfort except the clothes on his back and a warm fur coat? He forced the ridiculous image from his mind and before he realised it, exhaustion had gotten the better of him and he was asleep as well.

 

When Benjen awoke, he didn’t spot Jon right away. “Where is he?” He shouted in a panic, waking up the rest of their little group. 

“I’m here Uncle, just stretching my legs.” Jon appeared behind the large body of Tormund Giantsbane. The two men were gnawing on a piece of meat and Giantsbane carried something over his shoulder. 

“I kept an eye on your King for you Stark. The two of us found something fresh to eat for everyone.” Giantsbane boasted. “The dragonrider can shoot a mean arrow. He could easily become one of us.”

Benjen couldn’t miss the camaraderie that seemed to have developed between his nephew and the leader of this mission. 

Giantsbane looked at his coincidental hunting partner. “Your skill with a bow is very valued by the Free Folk. It can get you a woman in your bed every night.” He enjoyed the youth’s blushing face. “Don’t tell me you command dragons but are afraid of a woman’s cunt.”

“I am not but now is not the time for this.” Jon replied his face still on fire.

“A pity, I think I know just the one for you. Hair kissed by fire she has, just like me. Good with a bow as well. A great pity.” He shook his head. “If ever you change your mind, you just have to say the word. With your pretty curls and bow arm, Ygritte could be yours whether you wanted her or not.”

Jon tried to ignore Tormund’s last words and sat down next to his uncle. “Tormund told me we should eat and be on our way as soon as possible. I’m sure you agree.”

His uncle signalled Tormund behind Jon’s back to let the boy be for now. “I’ll be glad to leave here and I would have done it sooner if I could.” He answered his nephew. They both smiled now. “Did you sleep well out here on the ground?”

“Come on Uncle, this is not the first time we had to sleep under the sky. Besides, I was exhausted. The long flight to the Wall, hardly stopping at Castle Black to get directions and then trying to see in the dark on the way over here, a man could get tired from less.” 

“A man you call yourself? Did I miss your seventeenth nameday? I lost track of time out here?” Benjen bumped his shoulder.

“Not yet. Give it a few days.” Jon smiled. “Of all the things to talk about right now, this isn’t important, Uncle. What do you know of those White Walkers? How many are there? Do you think I killed that one because my sword is made of Valyrian Steel?”

“Well, that and your lightening quick reflexes. I saw the White Walker trying to stab you with an icy dagger but you were quicker. Not to mention your instant ducking to avoid his ice spear first.  
But to answer your question, I think it was the Valyrian steel although we cannot be sure. You are the first one to come close enough to a White Walker to be able to stab him. Before last night I had never even seen one before. So I cannot tell you how many there are out there. This whole mission was about the Free Folk proving to us these creatures even exist. I guess we can return home because our mission has been accomplished.”

Jon had finished eating while they talked and was gathering his belongings. “I’ll call the dragons and scout the environment. Tormund says that they will not attack by daylight but I want to know exactly where they are. I promised Davos and Sandor that I’d take every precaution. The dragons can also burn all these remains.” Jon gestured at the hundreds of corpses that lay inert all around them.

“I do not suppose you can give me a ride to Castle Black?” his uncle joked but Jon heard the wistful tone.

“You would get burned, Uncle. Their scales are rather hot. I can only ride them because of my Targaryen blood. Even their fire doesn’t burn me. I can’t take you with me, I’m sorry.” He left their little camping space and searched for a spot without corpses to call for his dragons.

 

***

 

The next two nights they saw wights in the distance but not many and they did not come under attack. Jon had used the daylight to scout the far North. He had seen thousands of wights on the march. Different groups in different locations but all of them bound for a central point. It looked like the enemy was regrouping somewhere in the far north. The good news was that they were travelling slowly and the gathering place was in the opposite direction from any known settlement of the Free Folk. Jon had marked all the locations he had seen them on the map he got from his Targaryen uncle. The fact that they were gathering probably meant they were planning an all-out attack next time. Their eventual target could be anything, a large settlement of the Free Folk or one of the castles along the Wall. Who knew what drove these strange creatures? It was certainly possible that the army of the dead would try to get past the Wall and attack the Seven Kingdoms? 

 

Jon left them at the end of the second night. He was planning to fly high over the Wall while it was still dark and drop a message wrapped around a stone to let the Night’s Watch know that Edd Tollet and Benjen Stark were still alive and on their way back. If he wanted to reach Sea Dragon Point later that day there was no time to stop at Castle Black and visit Maester Aemon. Orell had forecasted a cloudy day. The man had taken a liking to his fellow skinchanger. He had explained how he could feel the weather change deep in his bones and was often right in his weather predictions. Jon had expressed his thanks and expressed his hope to meet him again soon. 

Before he flew off, he promised his uncle and Tormund that he would be back and asked the two of them to make arrangements for a meeting near Castle Black between all parties a moon from now so his entourage could participate as well. Tormund promised to bring Mance Rayder and the heads of the clans. Jon could hear the ‘ayes’ from the ones present, no hesitation whatsoever in their voices. Benjen Stark would make sure that the Night’s Watch was adequately represented at the meeting. Jon climbed on the back of his dragon, shouted “keep yourselves safe so I will see you all soon,” and flew off, acknowledging the eagle that accompanied him the first part of the way with a nod and a smile.

All the way back, Jon tried to think of the best way to convince his counsellors to postpone their cause and deal with the situation at the Wall first. Jon realised that the plan he had in mind would ask a lot of their resources and they needed to deal with Dragonstone as well. He would not postpone that campaign and lose the perfect opportunity to take possession of the island without much resistance perhaps even none at all.

He arrived mid-afternoon. As soon as he climbed off Rhaegal, Ghost came running up to him. His direwolf’s greeting was heart-warming. Jon indulged him, knowing full well that the others would not be as welcoming. He walked to the tavern with Ghost glued to his side. Jon hoped they would let him take a hot bath first and change his clothes before assailing him with their admonishments. 

Sandor stood outside leaning against a wall and was the first to see him arrive. “Your uncle okay?”

Jon didn’t mind he didn’t get a proper greeting first. He appreciated Sandor’s concern for Benjen Stark.  
“He is now.” A tired smile graced Jon’s face. “Nice to see you, Sandor.”

“You as well, boy.” Sandor moved closer but stopped. “You reek, boy. Let’s get you in through the back entrance. With a bit of luck you can have sufficient time to clean up before they descend on you. I’ll try to prepare them. They are having another strategy meeting. I’ve lost count of how many they’ve held since you left.”

“Thanks Sandor. Is everyone all right?” Jon asked while they circled the building.

“Define all right. If you mean are they alive and healthy, the fucking answer is yes. If you ask if they are calm and happy, what the fuck did you expect?” He opened the door and let Jon enter. He followed him and continued the conversation in a whisper so as not to give away their presence.  
“I do not think Ser Gerold slept much since you left. Everyone’s appetite has suffered, except for the boys. Somehow they think you can take on anything and everything and will show up without a scratch when you’ve finished doing your thing. That last sentence is a quote of Gendry.”

They had reached the top of the stairs. Jon smiled at Sandor. “Thanks for everything, Sandor. Will you send a servant up with some hot water please? And if at all possible, wait a bit before you break the news of my return downstairs.”

“You’ve got it, my Prince.” He said the last two words in a teasing tone. “I can’t wait to hear of your reckless adventures. I’m sure you will shock the whole fucking room.” Sandor left.

“You have no idea.” Jon mumbled to himself and undressed in order to take a very welcome hot bath.

 

When he entered the common room downstairs, Sam was the first to rise from his chair and embrace him. Gendry was quick to follow Sam’s lead.  
“We were so relieved when Sandor told us you had arrived safe and well.” Sam voiced the thought and Gendry nodded, clearly feeling the same.  
Jon eagerly returned their hugs but did not speak a word. He turned to confront Davos and his loyal Kingsguards. 

Davos didn’t hesitate and followed his friends’ example by embracing him tightly. “I was so worried. Glad to have you back, son.” He whispered in Jon's ear. 

A tense silence ensued. Jon was determined to wait it out and tried not to cringe at the stern look of Ser Gerold. He fervently hoped the knight would come around. He loved him and wanted his approbation. He really needed him to understand his point of view, certainly taking into account the next steps he had in mind. 

Jon braced himself when he saw Ser Gerold approach. The knight surprised him however when he dropped the stern act and Jon got pulled against a lean body. “Don’t every do that to us again, my Prince. At the very least warn us and say a proper goodbye.”

At Jon’s nod the tension seemed to leave the room. Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell were glad they could hug Jon without censure from their Lord Commander. Sandor looked at the scene and just grinned at Jon. Jon smiled back at him over Ser Oswell’s shoulder.

“Have you eaten anything lately?” Davos practical as always had asked the cook to prepare a plate.

“Not since yesterday evening.” Jon replied. He sat down and accepted the food gratefully. Sam poured him a cup of ale. Jon was relieved that the ice was broken and they could move on for now. He knew he would probably get a scolding or two in private but nothing could take away the treasured feeling their warm welcome had provided. He waited until he had swallowed down his first spoonful before he addressed Davos. “Perhaps you can start to fill me in on the situation here? Have any ravens come in with more news? I reckon Sandor has told you my uncle is okay?”

“Yes he did.” Davos who had taken the seat facing him answered. "Well, here everything is ready to depart for the Driftmark. All of the messages have been sent. If all is well then the first ship should be on its way to Dragonstone as we speak. It is still too early for replies from Winterfell, King's Landing or any of our other allies. There is one message I didn’t open though.” He reached into his pocket and handed Jon a sealed scroll. “It is from Princess Daenerys.” While Jon studied the small item with an absent expression on his face, Davos turned toward Ser Gerold. “Anything else you would like to add Ser Gerold?” Jon shifted his attention from the scroll in his hand back to the meeting.

“Yes, the messages to ready the other ships have been sent. We will have to use a significant part of the war fund Lord Eddard Stark has left at the Driftmark for us. Ser Arthur has assured me it will be more than sufficient and can be replenished if necessary. Ser Arthur just smiled mysteriously. “We still need to hear from Lord Manderly but I’m sure he is glad he can finally start helping us. No sightings of Ironborn ships here. King Robert still needs at least a sennight to reach Winterfell.”

“You forgot to mention the message from Lord Reed,” Ser Barristan remarked.

“Tell me.” Jon urged always glad to receive the useful and intriguing information his interim foster father offered from time to time. “I have long been expecting another bombshell from him.”

“Better read it yourself, my Prince.” Ser Gerold said. “I hope you can make sense of his cryptic words. As far as I understand, he urges us to go to Dragonstone and not let us be deterred by a simultaneous situation. We must believe that our Prince is capable of handling both.” All eyes turned to Jon who sighed. Ser Gerold resumed “There was a warning for Winterfell in there as well. Danger lurks up high. As long as the Stag is in the North, a Wolf should never wander alone. He closed by stating that when the Stag leaves, the pups can prevent disaster by keeping the pack together.”

All eyes were on Jon now who had accepted the little scroll from Davos. He was reading the short message his brows furled in concentration. “The only risky thing high up in Winterfell I can think of is young Brandon Stark scaling the walls and risking falling to his death. Every message I get from the Starks describes one or other antic of Bran. Lately he climbed to the very top of the old Tower. It could be something else but it will do no harm if I send a raven to Winterfell and I advise them to supervise Bran. At the very least they should limit his climbing activities during the royal visit. The last bit is clearer. It is a warning not to split the Stark siblings up when Uncle Ned leaves for King's Landing. Since taking them all is not really an option since Robb needs to stay behind to rule the North in his father’s stead, Uncle Ned should leave his children at Winterfell. Lady Catelyn won’t like that. It means she will probably not be allowed to follow Ned to the capital.”  
He put the scroll down and looked at Davos. “I hope it doesn’t mean anything else than that.”

“You already made more sense of it than us, my Prince.” Davos praised him.

“And what about the simultaneous situation, my Prince?” Ser Gerold had even gotten more apprehensive when Jon had jumped straight to the last part of the message . He had not missed his Prince’s sigh and his dark expression when he had mentioned the first statement of Lord Reed.

Jon contemplated his pint of ale. ‘Where to start?’ he mused.  
He looked at Davos and Sandor silently pleading with them to support him. He turned his head and saw Sam and Gendry doing their utmost to stay inconspicuous. They were clearly hoping they would be allowed to stay in the room as long as they didn’t draw attention to themselves.

“Perhaps I should start by telling you what happened on my trip north. I hope you will believe what I have to tell you, even if I talk about killing an ice monster.”  
Jon then proceeded to give a detailed description of everything that had occurred from the very moment he climbed on Rhaegal’s back and left Sea Dragon Point. He restrained himself from using a smug tone when he told them how he left the Night’s Watch clueless of his mode of transportation. He emphasised how dire the situation of his Uncle Benjen and his companions had been when he found them. He concluded his long monologue with his promise to help the Free Folk.

An eerie silence ensued. Davos was deep in thought. Ser Gerold looked out of his depth. The others just sat there not knowing if they believed everything they had heard. His friends were whispering in their corner. Jon heard them mention the words White Walker several times.

“Can I tell you what I think we should do?” he ventured. “That way you can analyse it amongst yourselves later when I rest a bit and we can discuss strategies tomorrow. 

“You have a fucking plan?” Sandor asked? “First years of doing nothing and now we are in open conflict with coward Krakens, you want to start to invade Westeros and kill thousands of dead fuckers north of the Wall all at the same time? Do not hesitate now for fucks sake. I am all ears.”

“Well it is simple really.” Jon started with the easier part. “We still move on Dragonstone exactly as planned. Only I will not be going with you right away. I will concentrate on the fight here first.”

“How do you propose to take on thousands of wights and an undefined number of White Walkers?” Ser Gerold asked sceptically. “The dragons can only do so much. Are you seriously asking your Kingsguard to let you go off on your own once more? We are sworn to protect you.”

“I am not doing this on my own.” Jon tried to assure him. “I’ll have the support of the combined forces of the clans of the Free Folk. Uncle Benjen and Uncle Aemon will hopefully bring the Night’s Watch on board as well. 

Our first objective should be to prevent the army of the dead growing their ranks by preying on easy targets. The easiest way to do that would be to let the Free Folk south of the Wall and into the Gift but that land belongs to the Northern Kingdom. I realise that the Lords of the North would rebel not to mention the reaction of the men of the Night’s Watch. We know from previous negotiations how divided they are on this topic. 

I had hoped to have more time to guide both parties to a compromise and to persuade them of the need to exist together in peace, but the reality is that time is almost up. I had thought of moving the ships at Skagos and Bear Island to their respective sides of the Wall with just enough crew to sail them safely. They can be used to temporarily shelter the woman, children and elderly of the Free Folk. The Free Folk claim the dead can’t swim. The ships could stay well in sight of the shore. Some of you could travel to the Bay of Ice on board of one of our ships and join me at the Wall.”

Jon sipped from his ale. Everyone stayed silent so he continued. "Our second objective is to devise an efficient battle plan. The enemy has the numbers but their foot soldiers are just mindless puppets. I intend to scout their movements and predict where they will fight us. Then, we will make sure that we are ready for them. We can build trenches to set on fire and create several traps to try to get them cornered. Then the dragons will rein fire on them. If we had access to more volcanic glass, we could hit them with a barrage of arrows outfitted with small glass tips. Many of the Free Folk are excellent archers. The dragons can attack from the air and force them into a certain direction. And as I told you, chances are that when we target their leaders, these so-called White Walkers, we take out countless wights with one kill.

 

Jon had spoken to all of them but studied Ser Gerold reaction in particular. “That’s the rough layout of the plan. Let us discuss the feasibility and the logistics during the coming days. As I explained the dead are not ready to attack the Free Folk in full force just yet. We have time to travel to the Wall by conventional means. I had hoped that some of you would be willing to make the trip to Bear Island and accompany the fleet to the Wall, perhaps Davos and at least one of my Kingsguard? If Gendry would agree to come along, his skills could come in handy as well." 

He saw Gendry look up and addressed him directly. “Only if you are willing of course. You do not need to make a decision right away. If you came however, you could assist the Night’s Watch. They can use someone skilled to ameliorate the state of their weapon arsenal and help their only blacksmith. But your main task would be something entirely different. There are a few pieces of obsidian at the Wall, mostly daggers. I think it would be wise to melt them down and create several spearheads and arrow points so more men can be armed with the limited material at our disposal.”

Jon now turned his attention to Sam who was sitting next to Gendry. “Is it too soon Sam to ask whether you have found out where we could obtain more of this volcanic glass?”

“Actually, we might already know where to look,” Sam stammered. “That is, Ser Arthur told me about some mines on Dragonstone. If he is right, there is a mountain of obsidian on that island. More than you’ll ever need. The problem however is the timing. I do not see how we can get there, mine it and bring it here before the army of the dead attack.” Sam looked nervous.

“Dragonstone?” Jon asked and turned his head toward the knight. “Ser Arthur?”

“It was your father who showed these mines to me. They are close to the beach. We could probably access them without having to occupy the entire island first. The mining will not be too difficult, at least not at first. I recall I was able to touch the material and the shards I touched were rather large. So a lot of it should be easy to reach. I reckon a few swings with a pickaxe would already provide us with enough material to make hundreds of arrow points. You should know though that your father called it dragonglass.” Ser Arthur explained happy to have come up with this solution for his Prince.

“Do not encourage him.” Ser Gerold’s newly found indulgence was not unlimited. “I will not have him fly off to Dragonstone, mine the damn things and fly back all by himself. It is too dangerous.”

Sam scraped his throat.  
“What is it Sam? You have a better idea here?” Davos encouraged the timid youth to speak up.

Sam swallowed at first but then straightened his back and ventured “What if we send a raven and let some loyal people at Dragonstone start mining the volcanic glass immediately? By the time they have a fair amount they can load it onto one of our ships. Let’s send an additional ship from the Driftmark to Dragonstone under the guise of a trading mission. Said ship would only need to transport the material the short distance to the Driftmark. Letting Jon pick up a first batch at the Driftmark where people know and love him would not be that risky. If he can transport enough of it then Gendry can get started. The rest can be sent by ship to the Wall where Jon might pick some of it up at the shore should Gendry have already finished his work on the first batch. I reckon it will take some time to transport it over land to Castle Black. We should as for the assistance of the Night’s Watch.” 

Ser Gerold was still debating timing issues when Davos nodded. “Thank you Sam. That could work. We do not lose anything by sending the raven to Dragonstone today. We still have time to discuss Jon’s exact involvement in all this.” He looked at Ser Arthur. “Who can we contact onDragonstone? If we decide to do this, we better send a raven as soon as possible.”

“I agree. That part of the plan is urgent. Give me time to assess the rest of it before sending our Prince off.” Ser Gerold was quick to intervene not liking the image of his Prince crossing half of Westeros on his own.

Ser Arthur first answered Davos’ question. “I’ll give you some names when we’re done here, Davos.”  
Then he raised a new topic. “We are only concentrating on the dragonglass but hasn’t our Prince proven that there is another way of destroying these creatures?” He paused strategically and relished the fact that he had everyone guessing. Only Jon smiled knowingly but let the knight have his moment.

No one spoke up so Ser Arthur explained. “Do you think my sword will prove as effective as Blackfyre? Do we know of any Valyrian steel weapons we could loan?” 

“Didn’t you tell us that Jeor Mormont has a sword made of Valyrian Steel?” Ser Oswell remarked, clearly excited to hear of another means to destroy this unusual enemy.

“Yes, Longclaw it is called. That’s certainly a possibility.” Jon affirmed. “There is Ice at Winterfell but that is not an option with King Robert arriving there soon. 

“My father has one too,” Sam offered but it is in the Reach and he is not likely to give it up.

“Do you really think it will be necessary to evacuate the Free Folk?” Ser Gerold asked already analysing the next phase of Jon’s proposed tactic. 

“Perhaps not if the Night’s Watch cooperates, then there will be other options. A lot hinges on the troop movements of the army of the dead though.” Jon reasoned. “If they corner them close to the shores, our ships will be their only chance at survival.” Jon watched Ser Gerold from the corner of his eye. The man looked pale and worried.

 

A silence fell over the room. Gendry left their corner and approached Jon. “I am willing to go to the Wall, Jon.” He stated calmly. “I’d be happy to do that for you. You only had to ask.”

“Thanks, Gendry. Your presence will make a big difference.” Jon yawned and rubbed his forehead. “Do you mind if I leave you for a bit. I have not had much opportunity to sleep these last few days. I would be grateful if you would already send out the messages to Dragonstone, Skagos and Bear Island. If someone can give me some writing materials, I’ll write a short message to Maester Aemon to let him know I have arrived safely before I retire.”

“I can do that for you.” Sam was quick to help his friend. “Just let me know what it needs to say. I’ll write it in code so you can go and rest now. Better still, let us go to your room. You can dictate your message for Maester Aemon from your bed.”

Before Ser Gerold could stop them to ask more questions, Ser Barristan intervened. “Leave him be for now. Can’t you see the poor boy is almost dead on his feet? You can have your precious strategy meeting after supper or tomorrow or both.” He opened the door to help the two boys escape.

 

In his room Jon immediately settled himself on his bed. “Sam before we get to the message, do you realise that once you are at the Driftmark you can start to prepare for your apprenticeship at the Citadel? In less than a moon everything with your father should be settled. When we say goodbye here, it may well be for some time. Chances are slim that I will make it to Dragonstone before you leave for Oldtown.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Sam replied his voice hoarse. “Anything can happen between now and then. Besides we will find a way to communicate, you promised me.”

Jon squeezed his hand. “Then let’s start with the message, Sam. We also need to ask the Citadel to send a new Maester to the Wall immediately. Who do you suppose would have the greatest impact on the members of the order? I was shocked to see how frail Uncle Aemon has become. How can those learned minds in Oldtown not realise he has celebrated more than a hundred namedays? It is not right that he should still carry so much responsibility. We would not be stretching the truth an awful lot if we were to tell them he is dying.”

“I think they lack a volunteer and do not like to force a Maester to live his entire life in exile at the Wall. But to answer your question, you could ask Eddard Stark as Warden of the North to write it. He gets full reports on the situation at the Wall from his brother the official liaison, doesn’t he?”

“Great idea, you can draft that one yourself so Uncle Ned will only need to sign it. Now for the other one,” Jon started to dictate and Sam diligently wrote everything down. It was like a glimpse into the future, Jon and his Maester sending out royal instructions.

When Jon’s eyes followed Sam’s silhouette leaving his room he noticed Ser Oswell had taken up guard. He acknowledged the man with a nod before Sam shut his door.

Jon took up a more comfortable position on his bed and retrieved the message from Dany. His tired mind had difficulty to decipher the coded message. When he had finished reading it, her words hadn’t lifted his spirits as he had hoped. Usually her messages had the tendency to make him smile but this one left him feeling angry, guilty and confused. She had been attacked by a suitor and a stranger had come to her rescue. The only thing that made him feel a little bit better was the realisation that Ser Barristan was as good as on his way to fetch her. If only it could have been sooner. He envied Khal Drogo the role of her saviour. It should have been him. He was her designated protector.

 

***

 

Downstairs Ser Gerold summoned Davos, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Sandor Clegane to discuss the best way to go forward.

“Sandor, do you reckon you will be able to make a difference at the Wall? Can you assure me that you will be able to fight when one of the most used weapons over there will be fire?” 

Sandor looked conflicted. “I would really like to help kill uh I mean destroy those dead fuckers. I know for a fact that I will be much better at communicating with a Tormund Giantsbane and the likes than any of you. You all heard the boy'sdescription. I am fairly sure that that is the main reason you are asking me to accompany our Prince.”

Ser Gerold nodded. “That and the knowledge that you are a capable commander on the ground. I have seen how efficiently you organised the combined defences at the Stony Shore. You are also a formidable fighter and just as much as all of us here, you’ve proven that you are willing to do anything to protect our Prince. But may I remind you that you didn’t answer my question? Will the fire pose a problem?” 

“I am confident I can work around it. The fire I mean. With the right motivation…, “ he swallowed but then continued as if making a resolution. “ It is high time I conquer this anyway. I promise that I will not let you down and I formally volunteer to go on this mission.”

Ser Gerold returned his stare but didn’t respond. He now focused his attention on Ser Arthur. “Is your sword arm completely healed? Are you ready for battle?”

“I am almost back to my normal fighting level. And I still have the extra time needed to reach the Wall by sea not to mention the journey over land to Castle Black. You saw me training yesterday. I will be okay. Consider me a volunteer as well.” A look of mutual resolve passed between him and Sandor.

Ser Gerold promised to let them know his decision soon. He pre-empted Ser Barristan’s objection by telling him that he was well aware that his Prince had another task for him. Then he moved on to discuss logistics.

 

Afterwards, only Davos and Ser Gerold lingered in the room.  
“I liked it better when he did not know who he was. Everything was so simple then.” Ser Gerold told Davos. “How do you really feel about shifting our focus from our long time goal to this dead people and White Walker emergency?

“I think our Prince is doing the right thing. He is not doing this for personal gain, Ser Gerold. I am inclined to believe he will be doing the realm an even bigger service by defeating the dead than by deposing King Robert.”

At the knight’s questioning frown he explained. “Can you imagine how big the army of the dead would get if they could absorb all of the Wildlings into their ranks. The Night’s Watch wouldn’t stand a chance against an army of at least a hundred thousand strong. After defeating the Night's Watch, the dead would simply have to open the gates of Castle Black and they could swarm Westeros. Everyone would be dead before they even recognised what attacked them. I would like to accompany our Prince to the Wall as well but will abide by his decision.”

Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan were conspiring in the corner. At Ser Gerold’s admonishing look Ser Arthur spoke up to explain why they were whispering together. “We both believe there is a prophecy about this war. Prince Rhaegar was obsessed by it. He once told me the northern tale of The Long Night and the Essosi prophecy of Azor Ahai were linked somehow. Have you never heard him mention it? He believed that the Targaryens would play a role in protecting the realm from the Long Night. He honestly considered that he himself could play a major part. The famous Prince Who Was Promised. Shortly before he died he was convinced that the prophesied Prince would come from his bloodline. Do you not see? Jon might possibly be this Prince Who Was Promised. Perhaps he is destined to fight this war and we should all help him instead of dissuading him. Westeros can wait. If he does not do this then Westeros may well be doomed and conquering it will become meaningless.”

“I will need more information before I can wrap my mind around this.” Ser Gerold told them. He felt a headache coming up. When had things started to become so convoluted? Only a moon ago it seemed like their slow scheming would reach a swift and peaceful conclusion. Now they were talking about ice monsters, dead people and prophesies.  
“Sam, can you tell me the book version of the tale of the Long Night? Just stick to the text, no wishful thinking or speculation of what this might mean for us or our Prince please.”

Sam was only too happy to oblige. They ordered supper and Sam told them all he had read about The Long Night and the tale of Azor Ahai.

Jon did not make an appearance at supper or at all that evening. He slept till morning. 

 

***

 

Ser Gerold ambushed his Prince after breakfast. Jon had mentioned that he wanted to check on his dragons. It was the opportunity he needed to have an overdue private talk with his Prince.

“It is really important to redefine our relationship, my Prince.” Ser Gerold started out as soon as they were out of sight of the settlement. Jon just nodded and let him continue.

“The Gods are my witness, I have done my utmost to adapt to you gradually taking over command and making decisions. I even congratulated myself and was convinced that everything was working out until you pulled this stunt. Almost four days of being incommunicado, four days of being without our protection and not even a little hint of what you intended to do so we could at least advise you, if only to ease our minds.”

Jon tried to interrupt but Ser Gerold continued, clearly not ready to hear his Prince’s opinion yet.  
“I took the time to meditate long and hard these last few days, my Prince. I realise that my options are limited since you can just literally fly away and leave the nest if we butt heads. So we need to set up some ground rules. I will promise to hear you out every time no matter what a farfetched scheme you come up with. But you need to confide in me, in us. I will remind myself each time to accept that you are the one to make the final decision. I just need you to come to us so we have the chance to offer you our insight if not our direct help. Give me, I mean us, at least a chance to influence your plans, slow you down if necessary so extra safety measures can be taken. I solemnly swear that I will not confront you head on or force you to stay with us. I also vow that I will abide by your final decision each and every time, my King.” Ser Gerold ended his plea knelt on the ground his head bowed in submission.

“Please rise, Ser Gerold.” Whatever outcome Jon had expected from this conversation to have a submissive Ser Gerold kneeling before him was not it. He longed for the guidance of Davos Seaworth. He took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you just said. I really do. You are the most loyal Lord Commander a King could wish for. I will do my utmost to provide you with enough information to organise my safety. I only did what I did because I was afraid my Uncle Benjen would not survive if I let you delay me or prevent me from going. ”

Ser Gerold had gotten up while Jon talked. They resumed their walk without exchanging another word. Both were contemplating the significance of their promises. Jon was the first to get unsettled by the continued silence. He frantically searched for a topic of conversation to lighten the mood.  
“I’m glad to hear funds will not be a problem.” He spoke at last. “Ser Arthur has not let anything slip yet? The next time I see Uncle Ned, he will have to let me know how he is almost singlehandedly financing a Targaryen restoration. Any ideas?” 

“I have some theories, my Prince. However they are just wild speculations. I could as well be telling you bedtime stories.” Ser Gerold’s demeanor betrayed his interest in the topic.

“Tell me anyway.” Jon encouraged as he watched Ser Gerold relax before his eyes.

“Actually I have only three. The lame one being he inherited a secret stash of gold. You know how the noble Starks do not waste a lot of money in the North, no tournaments or feasts without a legitimate reason because ‘winter is coming’. His ancestors could have accumulated a fortune living so frugal and simple for thousands of years. The second theory is of secret mines in the North with untold riches. You know how the Northerners live isolated from the rest of the Kingdom and protect their way of life. It would not be so far-fetched to learn that they kept such a thing from getting out. The last one however, well that is just wishful thinking.” He looked sideways and noticed he had his Prince’s rapt attention.

“Well?” Jon urged him to continue.

“It is the timing of it all you know. Money stopped being a problem as soon as Tywin Lannister disappeared. Ever thought of making a connection there?” Ser Gerold’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Lannister gold? That would be hilarious.” Jon contemplated the plausibility.

“It certainly would be. It is not impossible though. Think on it and hint at it when you talk to one of your Stark uncle’s next. I bet you would have more of a chance to extract information from your Uncle Benjen.”

“Of course! If your third theory should happen to be true, Uncle Benjen could have been the one to execute Uncle Ned’s plan.”

“What makes you think it was Eddard Stark's plan? Something that devious? It could as well have been an accidental thing, something that popped up while they were apprehending Tywin. For all we know they found him sitting in the middle of his pile of gold trying to count how much he was worth.” Ser Gerold smiled openly now.

“Or Howland Reed had a rewarding premonition?” Jon ventured more seriously.

“I hadn’t considered that possibility. We make a good team, my Prince.” He admitted.

“A good team at spinning fairy tales for all we know.” A wide smile finally appeared on Jon’s face as well. “We have arrived, Ser Gerold. Stay here, I will be well in sight but at a safe distance. I’m eager to get cuddled by my dragons.

 

***

 

The rest of that day was spent devising plans. After a grueling brainstorming session the night before, Ser Gerold and Davos had agreed to hold a mini council, just with Jon and the two of them. Together they would try to reach some sort of consensus with the Prince before asking for input from the others.

“I believe you when you say that you and your dragons are vital to help the Free Folk to survive. I am also willing to believe that it is not a possibility to postpone this fight against the dead until you have established yourself as the True King and can use the manpower and resources of the Seven Kingdoms to fight these White Walkers. I am even willing to go as far as to say that there may be a sparkle of premonition in the legend of Azor Ahai and the tale of the Long Night. But,” Ser Gerold took a deep breath.”

“You know,” Jon intervened, “Uncle Ned has this saying. “Everything that comes before the word but is horseshit.” He stopped and apologised upon seeing Davos shaking his head to convey a silent admonishment.

“Do you want me to continue, my Prince?” Ser Gerold did not look best pleased with the interruption. Jon bowed his head conveying a silent apology now.  
“Before we decide to plan an all-out attack and a large scale evacuation of the Wildlings, uh Free Folk,” he corrected himself seeing Jon’s pertinent look, “is it not possible to get the enemy to retreat temporarily? Drive them back far enough, scare them, bluff, - any ideas on how to are welcome here - act in such a way that you can leave the North earlier and perhaps even catch up with us on Dragonstone. That way you can come back and finish the fight here moons, hopefully years later. It would have the added benefit to show to the entire realm how worthy you are of the title _‘Protector of the Realm’_ if you defeat the threat in the North after you are officially crowned King.” 

“How have you arranged to travel from here to the Driftmark?” Jon asked, wanting to gather more facts and at the same time stall his answer so he could think a little bit longer about how to respond to Ser Gerold’s suggestion.

“I had planned on travelling on horseback to White Harbour and then sail from there to the Driftmark. I reckon the entire journey will take us a moon.” Ser Gerold replied and received a consenting nod from Davos. 

“The sea voyage will take a bit less than three sennights if the winds are favourable.” Davos confirmed.

“You will be surprised how quickly I can get from the Wall to the Driftmark on Rhaegal’s back. My guess is it will only take two or three days. I could even travel between the two locations if the need arises.” He tried to assure the knight. Then he proceeded to tell them how quickly he had gotten from one point to another on his dragon these last few days. He described the easy relationship he had with Rhaegal and Viserion and how safe he felt high up in the air with them. How Viserion followed them without needing extra guidance and provided extra safety during their flights.

“Don’t you realise that I will be safer flying to Dragonstone than you will be on your journey to the Driftmark? You should be careful. Best check with Yara Greyjoy where Euron Greyjoy and his ships are so you can avoid running into him. Sam should not travel to Oldtown if Euron plans an attack there.”

He addressed Ser Gerold in particular now. “Your suggestion of forcing the enemy to retreat only has merit if we can come up with a sound strategy to contain the dead effectively for a significant amount of time. However I am not willing to gamble with the lives of the Free Folk. I want the ships in place anyway, whether we decide to evacuate or not. If the situation escalates due to some unforeseen circumstances, the ships will not be able to get there in time.

Jon turned to Davos. “What is your opinion, what are you thinking, Davos? How would you handle it?”

“I support your idea of moving the ships to both sides of the Wall as soon as possible. I would like to come with you to the Wall and take Ser Arthur, Sandor and Gendry with us. We could sail to Bear Island first and bring the fleet along to the west side of the Wall. Then we shall travel overland to Castle Black as swiftly as possible. Once we have arrived, we can evaluate the situation thoroughly and decide together whether it is possible to reach a safe status quo or not.”

 

Jon spoke up now. “I had hoped you would be willing to take command of the invasion of Dragonstone, Ser Gerold. And Davos, I like your idea and who to take along and please do include Ghost since I won't be sailing with you. I will fly to Castle Black and save valuable time assessing the situation and devising plans with the Night’s Watch and the representatives of the Free Folk while you travel by conventional means. By the time you arrive you can look at our strategies and adjust them or come up with additional ones.”

Then he turned his head to address Ser Gerold once more. “You will have to speak with Sandor though. There will be a lot of fire involved. I really hope he can come along. I think he will be the best fit to deal with the Free Folk. We will also need to make sure Ser Arthur’s swordarm is fully functional.”

“This is one issue where we think alike, my Prince. I already talked to Sandor and Ser Arthur last night after you retired. Sandor really wants to go with you and promises he has ample motivation to overcome his fear of fire. Ser Arthur’s claims his arm will be fully healed by the time they reach Castle Black. I will check with the Maester just to be sure.”  
He paused and looked beseechingly at Jon. “But my Prince, if you fly ahead of them to the Wall, that implies you will arrive there a long time before any of your Kingsguards or Ghost arrive.” Ser Gerold pointed out. “Is there no other way?”

“You can send a message to my Uncle Benjen if that appeases you. He can act as a guard until the rest arrive if that eases your mind and I will have two large loyal dragons with me. I will be scouting some of the time high up in the air anyway. I promise not to take any risks and to stay high up in order to avoid possible arrows or spears. Please Ser Gerold, believe me. If you had seen what I have north of the Wall, you would understand I have no choice. I will not rest easy knowing the dead may attack women and children while I while the time away and feel useless on a boat sailing slowly towards the Wall.”

“Perhaps you have a point there but we can still discuss how to keep you safe. Is there no way you could take someone with you on Rhaegal?” Ser Gerold asked.

“Supposing Rhaegal would agree, there is still the fact that his scales are rather hot to the touch. If we can find a solution for that I would do my utmost to get Rhaegal to comply.” Jon was warming up to the idea. 

“What if they wrapped their legs in several trousers and furs?” Ser Gerold proposed.

“That would hinder their grip on the dragon and they would slide off.” Jon objected.

“What if we could make some kind of saddle with an enormous belt going around Rhaegal’s body?” 

“Again I would have to get Rhaegal to comply. I cannot help but think it would be uneasy for him. I need to think some more on this and I will consult with Rhaegal when I visit the dragons later today.”

Davos suggested reconvening later with the entire small council. Jon suggested an early supper and to hold the meeting afterwards, that way he could first organise a sparring session. He was eager for some exercise.

 

***

 

The next day Ser Gerold watched Ser Arthur and Sandor Clegane accompany Jon when he visited his dragons. Gendry walked alongside Jon.

“Why would Gendry want to visit the dragons?” He asked Davos Seaworth who had joined him at the window. 

“If I had to guess, I would say our Prince wants to find a way to make your idea work. He will probably ask if Gendry can come up with a means of fastening a saddle on the dragons back.” Davos saw Ser Gerold’s interested expression. 

“Let us hope they find a way. It would make me sleep a lot better at night knowing that the Prince had one of us with him at the Wall.” He remarked.

“Perhaps there is another possibility to provide him with some protection. Do you remember Jon telling us about Ser Jaremy Rykker being Master at Arms at the Wall? Surely you know he was one of Prince Rhaegar’s loyal bannermen. He fought with him at the Trident and got sentenced to the Wall for it. I am sure he would be willing to look after our Prince for you. Perhaps he even knows of other Targaryen loyalists who got banned to the Wall and Rykker could assemble a protective detail to help protect the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I would feel a lot better if I knew for sure.” Ser Gerold tone sounded hopeful.

“What keeps you from writing Maester Aemon and asking him? I am sure Sam would help you with the code.” Davos suggested.

“That is an excellent idea. I will inform my Prince first though. I will not go behind his back. The only effective way we can protect him over there is with his cooperation. Thanks, Davos. That is an excellent suggestion. Our Prince was right to name you Hand. Are you sure you do not want us to address you more formally?”

“Not in our tight group, later in front of the people that have to respect our King, I will have no choice. Not yet though. I like my name. Davos will do for now.”

The two men fell silent. Although they stared out of the window for a long time, neither of them took in anything they saw. Both were mulling over several of the issues they wanted to resolve before the meeting they would hold with the entire group after supper.

 

***

Four days later, Jon watched the ships leave Sea Dragon Point and head for Bear Island. There they would join the rest of the fleet and sail to the Bay of Ice. Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan, Sam and several crew members that now fulfilled the role of houseguards would travel overland to White Harbour. They would take a road that stayed south of Winterfell. They had not packed much and would travel as fast as the horses could manage. The party was mounted and ready to depart as well but waited until they witnessed Jon mount Rhaegal and fly off with Viserion following his brother. Only when Jon was no longer visible, did Ser Gerold urge his horse forward. He was going to secure a home base for his Prince and Princess.

 

 

**Interlude 14: Growing strong**

 

The day was too hot for her to give her temper free reign. It would only result in a ridiculous headache that would linger for several days. She longed for the days that she had been younger and more energetic. She watched her son’s obese body bend the frail garden chair. They were both seated in a secluded spot in one of the well-tended gardens of her domain. She had chosen a spot in the shade but the heat was still rather oppressive.

“What do you think you are doing here? Whatever could you have been thinking, leaving King's Landing and arriving unannounced on my doorstep?” Her oaf of a son had left the capital days after the King had travelled north to those enigmatic Starks.

“Well the King left and with Lord Arryn deceased, there will not be any important meetings so I decided…”

“To take a holiday?” Olenna sneered at Mace Tyrell. “Why did you not accompany our beloved King? My youngest grandson will be at Winterfell by then and you could petition the King to let him come home. As if he would be safer from scandal in the North than here in his own home. Pfff.”  
She opened her hand painted fan. It was a present from her granddaughter. Margaery had painted a golden Tyrell rose on a plain green fan making it the most treasured one she possessed. The soft breeze it created when she moved it cooled the sweat on her brow.

She noticed her son inhale and exhale deeply and knowing his habits she intervened before he gathered enough courage to speak.

“I’m not finished,” she admonished him further. “And if you were not smart enough to think about that plan yourself, you could at least have stayed in the capital and taken an active part in governing the city. Who will profit now, Petyr Baelish or Varys, the Lannister dwarf? It could be any other small Lord with a lick of sense who recognises a power vacuum when it presents itself.”

“But the King all but ordered me to.” Mace Tyrell was sweating even more and it was not all because of the heat.

“And you didn’t think to persuade him with promises of … I do not know some costly thing he covets or more whine or gold? For the Godssake, you practically lived with the man for years now. Haven’t you learned anything about his weaknesses? Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘manipulate’?” She exclaimed. “I should have summoned you back to the Reach and then pretended you were ill so I could send Willas in your stead as soon as he came of age. Fortunately he doesn’t take after you. He is a true diplomate that one. I sent him to Winterfell by the way. He will come home with Loras, I am sure of it. I even hope he can arrange a betrothal between us and the Starks.”

Poor Mace Tyrell could hardly follow the leaps this conversation took. He just repeated the last thing he registered regretting the stupid impression he would make beforehand. He felt really tired and the travel sickness he always suffered from after a long trip had not yet abated. “Betrothal? Do you think Willas can influence the King away from betrothing Joffrey to the Starks in their own home?”

“There are several Stark children and we have several children as well Mace. Many possibilities to form couples, my dear.” She explained to him in a tone she normally used to spell something out to a small child. "Besides, do not tell me you have not heard the recent rumours concerning the royal children? Perhaps it is a blessing that our dear Margaery is not yet betrothed to the Crown Prince. I plan to bet on several horses. I seems a new contender has entered the race.”

“A new contender?” Mace limited himself to parrot his mother’s words once more.

“Well you can be excused not to have heard of this, I suppose. The rumours are circulating mostly around the southern shores of the Narrow Sea. Dragons have been spotted. Several sources claim this. Some suspect they belong to the Golden Company. I however do not think so. I learned something else. Prince Quentyn Martell recently visited the Targaryen Princess in Pentos. She resisted his charms if the reports of my spies are to be believed so she might still be unattached. Imagine Mace, an unmarried Targaryen female with dragons! I still have two grandsons on the marriage market. We need to be smart about this. I have sent a tentative declaration of support her way. Forcing her didn’t work for the Dornish so I intent to profit from their mistakes and play it the other way. I left the ball in her court for now.”

“What about all the money we’ve thrown at the Baratheons?” Mace complained not in the least happy with her fast changing loyalties.

“Well if the royal children are really bastards, Lord Stannis is next in line. If he has no male heirs, and Renly is out of the picture, ... A pity Shireen is so young. But anyway, Stannis knows all too well that the royal family has our financial backing ever since Lord Tywin Lannister disappeared without a trace. By the way I am really disappointed you have not gotten any information of his whereabouts out of any of the many Lannisters at court. Really Mace, you should try harder.” She continued her haphazard reasoning out loud. “A pity Renly is imprisoned. Loras would surely have been able to persuade him to marry our Margaery. Well, best forget about that, even I cannot think about a plan to rehabilitate his sorry ass. Stannis hmmm, he has no male heirs. I know he is a lot older than her but if he set that old crone of his aside, Margaery could still give him sons.”

“Stop it woman. Rewind a bit. Who are you supporting? The Baratheon crown Prince, Stannis, the Targaryen Princess with her rumoured dragons or do you want an alliance with the Starks in the North?” He dabbed his forehead with a no longer pristine looking piece of cloth.

“Have I not taught you anything at all?” His mother exclaimed, shaking her head in dismay. “You plant seeds for all possibilities but only harvest the one that grows the strongest. You pull the others out as if they were weeds when they become superfluous.”

_“Growing strong.”_ Mace quoted their house's words. “I remember. You did tell me this before, didn’t you?”

“More than once, my son. More than once.” Lady Olenna got up. “It is time I went back inside. I have things to attend to before I tutor Margaery. She at least shows the promise of a keen political mind, kind of like Willas. Those two take after me. I just need to guide her some more so she can develop her skills, grow them so to speak. That way she will be able to govern her future husband and hopefully the realm.”

She hurried along the garden path towards the beautiful palace, leaving a despondent man behind in the heat. Olenna had long noticed that the sun had shifted and his chair was now flooded with golden sunlight. The imbecile hadn’t even had the presence of mind to switch to a place in the shades.

Swiftly she strode to her favourite parlour with north east facing windows and installed herself in her usual cosy chair in the corner where she had the best view of the colourful flowerbeds. She mentally reviewed the conversation she just had with Mace. For all she had been able to intimidate her ignorant son the entire length of the conversation, she was actually quite frustrated. She had been scheming for years and had nothing to show for it yet. 

Somehow, she had been thwarted at almost every turn. Her spies had given her contradicting reports. The recurring theme throughout her struggles, were the unusual overtures of House Stark over the past few years. Benjen Stark had even come all the way to Highgarden twice. Oh, she had not been fooled. The man did collect what they owed the Night’s Watch but his subtle references and inquiries about her allegiances, the mention of the Targaryens in Pentos and the new trade agreements between the North and the Reach, they were all unprecedented. Not to mention such behaviour was out of character for the normally so self- sufficient Northern Kingdom. She knew about the extravagant expansion of their glass gardens. None of it made any sense.

Most of all she had been flabbergasted by Benjen Stark’s unconditional sharing of new gardening techniques with House Tyrell. She had been cautious and had applied the revolutionary method on a small part of their fields. She had been astounded when the harvest on these lands had effectively increased by more than twenty per cent. 

Events had culminated lately in Eddard Stark proposing a marriage alliance, hinting at big political changes. She had known for a fact that she was not the only one scheming to profit from the downfall of the royal children and House Lannister. But who would have suspected House Stark to enter the bid for the Iron Throne so prominently?

Perhaps I should have gone north myself was her last thought before she fell into a slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, King Robert finally arrives at Winterfell.  
> And we are introduced to Roose Bolton.


	15. A royal visit -part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King will arrive at Winterfell more than a sennight after Robb.  
> Roose Bolton is eying House Stark’s position in the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you many of you are waiting for Jon and Dany scenes but bear with me a little while longer. I’ll make it worth your while.
> 
> Since the main story is taking place on more than one front now, some chapters will take place simultaneously. We switch to Robb Stark arriving home. This chapter takes place approx. eight days after chapter 13-Decisions, which gives Robb just enough time to travel overland from Sea Dragon Point to Winterfell.  
> The Boltons are their own warning. I apologise in advance for their actions and remarks, especially their sexist remarks. I will state for the record that I do not agree with them, obviously, me being a female should convince you of my sincerity.
> 
> As I mentioned before, the interludes can refer to past, present or future occurrences. I would like point out that at the end of the interlude 13 there is a fast forward of approximately two moons before Ser Barristan arrives in Pentos to escort Dany home. That encounter still needs to take place in the near future of our main storyline. In our main story, Ser Barristan is momentarily in the process of travelling from Sea Dragon Point overland to White Harbour in the company of Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, Sam and some minor characters.  
> If things are still unclear, you can contact me by leaving a comment.

When Robb entered through the gates at Winterfell there was no big welcome home ceremony. Everywhere he looked he saw a flurry of activity and hardly anybody looked up from their duties. It was evident Winterfell was preparing for the imminent royal visit and the homecoming of the heir was of no significance. Well he hadn’t announced the exact date he would arrive and had sent no outriders. Still it was humbling. He swallowed, urged his horse onwards and entered the courtyard. When he turned to Edric, he noticed his friend was not deterred by the lack of attention their arrival inspired. His reaction was one of awe. The young man was turning his head left and right, visibly impressed by the size of Robb’s ancestral home and the excellent condition of the outhouses and fortifications. 

“You have a beautiful home Robb,” he complimented his friend. 

Robb smiled. Edric was right, he had a beautiful home. And just like that, the unwelcome feeling dissipated and it felt good to be home. 

A stable boy approached and took the reins of their horses. While Robb and Edric dismounted, Greywind sprinted away to greet Nymeria who came running from the direction of the inner courtyard. 

“Robb you are home!” Of course, Arya was not far behind her direwolf. “You brought Edric! Is Jon here too, and Gendry?” she scanned the rest of his party with excitement.

Robb hugged his little sister. “Jon had urgent business elsewhere Arya. He will come when he is able to. He promised you, didn’t he? Gendry is assisting Jon, as is Sam for that matter.” He gently reminded her of her omission of Sam in her preference for Jon and Gendry. Another thing he could tease Gendry with when he next saw him.

Arya’s smile dimmed a little but her natural exuberance didn’t suffer too much. She made an awkward curtsy to greet Edric Dayne and called out “Come on! Let me introduce you to my siblings. They are still at their lessons. Sansa and I have already finished.” And without further ado she led the young men into the great hall.

 

Robb first spotted his mother and Sansa who were sitting at a table close to the entrance. They were embroidering a dress with the double wolf head sigil, probably one for Sansa to wear during the royal visit. Catelyn Stark was the first one to come forward. She hugged her son as if she hadn’t seen him in years and welcomed him home. Robb hugged her back reciprocating the warm welcome and promised that they would speak later. 

As soon as he released his mother Sansa was at his side and embraced him as well. “Welcome back brother. Mother was worried you wouldn’t be home in time for the King’s visit.”

“I reckon you were as well?” Robb smiled at his sister. She seemed to have grown even taller. “You look well Sansa. If you come to my room tonight after supper, I will give you a gift from Jon.” 

“From Jon, for me?” Sansa looked astonished. Robb just nodded. Upon noticing his sister’s shy glances towards his friend, he remembered he still needed to introduce Edric.

“Mother, please meet my friend Lord Edric of House Dayne, the Lord of Starfall in Dorne”  
“Edric, this is my mother, the Lady of Winterfell.”  
Lady Catelyn curtsied. “And this is my sister lady Sansa.” Sansa curtsied as well. Robb saw his sister kept her head down but peeked through her eyelashes at Edric. He had never seen his sister this shy before. But then he remembered that his father had described her almost identical reaction to Loras Tyrell when he first arrived at Winterfell. 

While Edric greeted Sansa, Lady Catelyn and Robb intercepted Bran and Rickon who had left the corner table.

“Robb, you're home!” Bran shouted while his younger brother jumped Robb. 

Robb took it all in stride, gave Rickon a kiss on his cheek and gently put him back on the ground. He kneeled down and gave them both a quick hug “I see Bran is still in one piece. Have you been good boys while I was away? Will I be able to reward you with an awesome sparring session? I learned a few new tricks you know.” While he got back up both started talking at the same time in an attempt to convince their older brother that they had behaved themselves very well. “I’ll ask mother and if she agrees, you will have earned a present from our friend Jon. Now let me quickly introduce you to my new friend Lord Edric Dayne and then you better get back to your lessons.”

Edric still stood in the same spot where he had left him. He was talking to Sansa. His sister’s cheeks had reddened and she seemed to listen with rapt attention to whatever Edric was telling her. Apparently his friend had turned on his southern charm. Robb had to admit that they made quite the picture. His sister was rather tall for her age. Her long red hear was neatly held together by a few braids in a style that enhanced the delicate features of her Tully face. She wore a simple grey dress that accentuated her slim figure. His friend’s pale blond hair and dark blue eyes made him stand out here in the North. Edric had dressed for the occasion and wore a light purple coat over his best tunic and breeches. Loras would have a rival. Robb decided to keep a close eye on the two young men. He didn’t want his sister to get hurt. What Edric and Loras would consider innocent flirtations could easily be misconstrued for a tender regard by his rather naïve younger sister who was still in the phase of believing the romantic songs about handsome princes and valiant knights.

For now he interrupted them by presenting his younger siblings to Edric. Then Lady Catelyn ushered her youngest sons back to the table where Maester Luwin sat waiting patiently beside a big book that Robb recognised all too well. It described the ancestry of the houses of the North. Bran and Rickon went willingly. Robb’s promises had yielded the intended effect for now. They really wanted to earn that gift and the promised sparring session.

Robb quickly introduced his friend to the Maester who had been at Winterfell for as long as Robb could remember and then left the great hall with Edric. Sansa and her Mother followed them out. In the corridor they encountered Arya who was talking non-stop to Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth. It was clear his youngest sister had run off to inform them of his arrival and dragged them here to welcome him home. Robb ushered them all outside so Maester Luwin’s lessons could continue without further disturbance.

Edric acted as a real gentleman and offered an arm to Sansa and Lady Catelyn. Robb walked beside Loras and Brienne. As far as he could tell, Loras Tyrell didn’t react to Sansa’s fascination with Edric Dayne. His father was probably right. Loras didn’t have any designs on his sister. The Tyrell wasted no time in asking him for a sparring session. Robb was only too happy to oblige and they set a time on the morrow. He would miss Ser Arthur’s training sessions but sparring with Loras and perhaps Lady Brienne would be a significant improvement over the obligatory bout with Theon Greyjoy. The Kraken had yet to appear and so did Robb’s father. Robb felt his chest tighten at that last thought and grew serious.

“Where’s father?” Robb asked his mother when her conversation with Edric Dayne had died down.

“He’s in his solar. He is getting more messages than ever. I hope you can help him with some of his business now that you know more about what is going on. I hardly get to see him these days and things will only get worse when the King and his entourage arrive.” 

“I’ll do my best, Mother. When do you expect the King?” He hoped it would not be too soon. He needed time with his father. He had a lot to tell him and even more to ask him.

“Probably in a sennight. I was getting worried you would not be here in time. It is really nice to have you home, Robb. I prayed to the Gods every day to ensure your timely and safe return.” His mother hugged him once more and went back inside taking Sansa with her. They needed to find a guest room for Edric Dayne. She would have to make her excuses to the young Lord. The best rooms were all reserved. She could only allocate him a smaller one in an obscure part of the castle. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

Robb saw that Edric was talking to Loras and Brienne with Arya listening in. He made his excuses to his guest and promised to be back later. He was going to talk to his father.

 

***

 

When Robb entered the solar, his father immediately got up and greeted him warmly. Robb hugged his father but then took a step backwards. He ignored his father’s offer to take a seat. Instead he reached into his pocket and handed him an unopened scroll.

“A messenger caught up with me two days after I left Jon at Sea Dragon Point. Apparently not long after my departure, they received a call for help from Uncle Benjen beyond the Wall.” Robb said in a neutral voice. His father accepted the scroll but didn’t blink.  
“You knew already that Uncle Benjen was still alive? Did you receive the news enclosed in this scroll as well?” His curiosity lent a bit more humanity to his voice.

Ned took a seat and opened the message. He scanned it quickly and told Robb all he knew about this matter. “I received a message from Maester Aemon that Jon arrived at Castle Black safe and sound and that we should not worry. Jon vowed not to take any risk and reassured us the two dragons can cope with the cold.”

Ned frowned as he continued. “Not worry? Easier said than done. He is my only nephew and the only thing I have left of my dear sister. Moreover I have invested seventeen years of my life in his cause and all of that would come to nothing if he perished beyond the Wall. And does the young man heed my council? No, he flies about on his dragons in the open and now he just takes off to a very dangerous place and has nobody with him for protection or guidance.” He looked up at his son who still had not taken a seat. “I should not worry,” he repeated and shook his head. “How do I do that?”

Robb kept his expression neutral. His eyes however studied his father without their usual warmth. “I had almost the entire length of my journey to think about this. Since there is nothing we can do at this point, it will not make a difference whether we worry or not. Also, I believe we should trust Jon. I was there and have actually seen him handle several tricky situations. He isn’t rash or reckless. He carefully considers the consequences before acting. You should trust him just as you should have trusted me, father.” Robb uttered these last words in a bitter tone.

Either his father ignored his last sentence or he hadn’t heard it. He did not look up and was still reading Davos Seaworth’s message that Robb had handed him. “Apparently, Davos writes that Jon promised to be back in a few days. So we should receive a raven with more news any day now. Let’s pray to the Old Gods that Benjen and Jon both stay all right.” He finally looked up and was taken aback by the angry expression on his son’s face. “Take a seat son? I’ll strain my neck if I have to look up at you much longer.” 

Robb looked even more dismayed at his patronizing tone and started pacing the limited space. Suddenly he stopped before his father’s chair all hesitancy gone. He needed to air his grievances and he needed to do it now.  
“Why didn’t you warn me before I went to visit Jon? Why, Father? You didn’t have to tell it all. You could have prepared me a little bit. It would have made such a difference had you only explained to me how the Targaryens were falsely blamed for a lot of things by your old friend King Robert.”  
He towered over his father his face now clearly showing his agony and guilt of his own actions. “I almost lost his friendship, Father. I was so shocked at first. I lashed out at him. I treated him as if he was this mad Targaryen that had killed my family.”

“Keep your voice down, Son. I’m sure Jon didn’t …” But Robb didn’t let him finish.

“That’s just it! He didn’t. He is so considerate. By comparison, he made me look like a narrow-minded, bigoted imbecile.” His emotions were running really high now. His face was flushed and he was close to tears.

His father urged him to sit down once more and waited patiently until he complied. Then he persuaded him to listen to his point of view. He told him his motivation first and foremost had always been the safety of his family. His father then described the scene in the Tower of Joy in Dorne and his discussions with the three famous knights. He spoke at length so Robb had the time to calm down a bit.

When his father stopped talking, Robb just sat there staring into space. He came back to his senses when he heard his father repeat a question about Jon and gave a terse answer. Not in the least deterred, his father kept asking him simple questions trying to get the conversation flowing again. How Jon looked? Was he healthy? Could he describe the size of the dragons, how was Davos doing as Hand? Robb realised he was gently but persistently persuaded to take an active part in the conversation with his father.  
Sam had once drawn his attention to Jon doing the exact same thing. How Jon had softly coaxed an unwilling conversation partner back into his good graces simply by talking to him of inconsequential matters at first. Tarly had pointed out the exact moment where Jon had noticed that the other man had calmed down enough and was once more willing to listen to him. Robb had witnessed how Jon started to say all the right things and how he had completely reversed the man’s initial refusal.  
Now he realised that his father was using the same amazing _‘people skills’_ of Jon as Sam had jokingly called the gentle manipulation. 

He decided however in this case it was in his own interest to make peace with his father and started to speak freely about everything he had learned these past few sennights. He also addressed the letter from his mother containing the ridiculous marriage proposal from House Frey. His father confirmed Robb’s suspicion that Littlefinger was trying to manipulate them and was using Lady Catelyn to do just that. Their similar conclusion further cemented the tentatively restored father and son relationship.Robb was taken aback however when his father brought up a serious betrothal proposal.

“Lord Manderly is here for the King’s visit and I remember you liked Wylla very much the last time you met her. Manderly tells me his daughter often talks about you and hasn’t looked at another man since. I think it is an excellent idea seeing how House Manderly is an important and prosperous northern house. I am drawing up a settlement. You can read the draft if you want.”

Robb took a deep breath. “Father, isn’t this a bit hasty?”

“Son?” His father looked surprised. Clearly he had expected Robb to be happy with this choice of bride for him. “I have chosen her with care amongst dozens of candidates. She is an excellent choice and you like each other.”

“Is it true that you have sworn absolute fealty to Jon as the True King of the Seven Kingdoms when he had barely celebrated his twelfth nameday?” Robb tried to get him to understand where this was going.

His father frowned slightly. “Yes I did. But that was just the public declaration of a much earlier commitment I made the moment we decided Jon’s fate in that tower seventeen years ago. Why do you bring that up now?” 

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that by swearing your oath to Jon, you will need his approval for this betrothal?” 

“I see no reason why he would not approve. Lord Manderly has been a big supporter of his cause for many years now.” His father didn’t understand Robb’s reluctance.

“What if Jon needs me to marry for political gain? Say I can buy him a Kingdom by marrying, I don’t know, perhaps the Princess Arianne, Margaery Tyrell, Shireen Baratheon, Yara Greyjoy, some Lady of the Vale, or anyone else for that matter?”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “You have discussed this with him?”

“Not as such. It could have come up though that hypothetically he could have the last word when it came to betrothals of people that owe him fealty.”

“Came up how?” His father’s tone was accusing now.

“It came up when I told him of mother’s ridiculous idea that I should marry a Frey. He only said it to reassure me and then dropped the subject.” Robb stood firm and defended his cousin. “But that doesn’t make it any less true. You do realise that at the very least you have to inform him of your intentions and wait for his reaction?”

His father didn’t respond at first. He stood up, put another log on the fire and watched how the wood slowly started to catch fire. Finally his eyes left the hypnotising flames of the blazing fire and he turned back to face his son. Robb detected the exact moment his father decided to open up to him by the way he relaxed his shoulders. 

“It still is a strange concept,” his father sighed and sat back down. “At first there was this tiny baby we needed to protect, and then there was this promising boy who listened to my every word. But recently, his letters have become more confident. The last one was filled with orders I had to carry out. It seems his so called _‘rite of passage journey’_ he insisted on has done him a world of good. And even though I am proud of how he is starting to take up his rightful role, that doesn’t mean that I do not have trouble getting used to this new world order. For years my word was law here in the North. King Robert hardly ever tried to get me to do something and if he did, I ignored him most of the time.” 

He paused and studied his son. “You may have a point there. I will inform Jon of my intentions. In return however, I want you to be truthful with me. What is the real reason that you object to this betrothal? Did you and Wylla have a falling out?”

“We did not. You should know there was nothing serious between us to begin with. It was just a passing boy’s crush. There are other things going on right now that are more important.”  
Rob sighed when he saw his father’s disappointed face. He needed to make his father understand how he really felt about the whole betrothal issue. “If I am completely truthful, I do not wish to marry yet. I’m not ready to commit to anyone. And I fervently wish I can marry someone I can at least respect and hopefully like somewhat. Wylla was just a silly infatuated girl that could hardly string two sensible words together. We didn’t share a single meaningful conversation.”

“We all have to do our duty, Robb. But I will consider your words and at least stall the negotiations. I can always use the King’s visit as an excuse.” His father’s voice sounded weary. 

Robb wondered whose idea the betrothal was. Perhaps not Lord Manderly but his father himself had made the first move. That would really put him in an awkward position. “Why not tell him the truth, Father? Lord Manderly knows your allegiance is to Jon, our True King. He happens to be one of the few people you can be straightforward with. You seem to get stuck in a deceiving mode sometimes.” Robb couldn’t help voicing a bit of his lingering resentment for being kept in the dark for so long. He stood up and gave his father along serious look before leaving the solar without uttering another word.

 

***

 

After supper he brought his siblings to his room and gave them Jon’s gifts. Rickon hardly remembered Jon but accepted his present with as much delight as the others. He received a beautiful story book. Each page had four different drawings depicting several animals on some sort of journey. A few animals belonged to species that Rickon had never heard of, not even in the stories old Nan told him sometimes. The text below each picture was written in the common tongue and repeated once more in High Valyrian. It was an enticing way to tell a story. It looked handmade.

“Jon made this book himself.” Robb confirmed when the exclamations had died down. “Be careful with it and allow your siblings the opportunity to read it sometime. It is yours though.”

Rickon pressed the book close to his chest. He looked at Robb with his big Stark eyes. “I will take extra good care of it, Robb. I promise.”

Bran received a package with iron tools, some thick rope and leather belts. He looked at Robb a question in his eyes. 

“These are devices that can help you when you climb.” He showed his little brother the drawings Jon had included that depictured step by step how to fix the belts around his body and how to embed the iron pieces in the wall and attach his leather harness with the rope to these pieces. They will help keep you safe when you climb. Not only will they provide an extra foothold, they will also prevent you from falling all the way down if ever you happen to slip up. Best show these to Father first. He can help you cope with mother’s reaction,” he warned his little brother who looked like he wanted to run off and try them out at once.

Now it was Sansa’s turn. Robb handed her a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He smiled when he heard her gasp. When she removed the paper it revealed a large piece of exquisite woven fabric, enough to make a beautiful dress. The material was thick enough to keep her warm when winter came. She couldn’t tell what colour it was exactly. Was it blue or was it green? It changed when the light touched it, just like the colour of the sea. Robb saw she was moved to tears. He waited until he had her attention and showed her that on the inside of the wrapping paper someone had drawn the designs for two evening dresses. “Jon got these from a friend at court. He claims these represent the latest fashion.” Sansa just hugged her brother unable to utter a single word.

He then showed his siblings the dagger Jon had gifted him and reminded Arya that she had already received her present. Arya nodded and proclaimed that even if Jon had given them beautiful things, her present was without a doubt the most awesome of them all.  
Robb stopped everyone’s protestations by ordering them to write a thank you letter to their thoughtful and generous friend.

 

***

 

The next morning, Robb and Edric joined the others in the training yard where the daily training sessions were about to begin. At first Robb just watched from the side lines. He was surprised by Arya’s progress. When he saw the young girl fight Lady Brienne he noticed his little sister had developed an entirely different fighting style. Arya was quick on her feet and seemed to dance around her opponent. She had been taught moves that fitted her physique perfectly. He made a mental note to praise Lady Brienne for her excellent teaching skills later. 

Then Loras stepped forward and asked Robb to spar with him. Robb was happy to oblige and took his starting position his dulled training sword at the ready. Both boys started out tentatively at first evaluating the other’s improvements since their previous sparring session in the Riverlands, but soon the fight grew more intense. Arya and Edric shouted encouragements and slowly a crowd gathered to watch the engaging spectacle. In the end Robb had to admit defeat. He had won several bouts but Loras had shown superior technique and gotten Robb to yield more often as he had been defeated. He swallowed his pride with some difficulty and shook the Tyrell’s hand promising him to make it more difficult for him on the morrow. He was a bit mollified when he saw that Edric had trouble keeping Lady Brienne of Tarth at bay. He used the opportunity to study every tactic she employed. He was determined to do better and beat them the next time. He had neglected his training lately and the few sparring sessions he had attended at the Stony Shore with Jon and his guards, they had concentrated on battling in formation which meant that during these sessions he had always had at least one wingman defend his weaker side.

It was Arya who broke his contemplation by pointing out how Sansa was staring with lovesick eyes at Edric. Robb just shook his head and told her to keep her voice down. It was not nice to put her sister on the spot like that. Sansa had turned red and whispered she was just admiring how well he fought. 

“Pffff,” Arya responded. "Then you do not understand a thing about swordsmanship. Lady Brienne fights much better.” It looked however the Gods had decided to take Sansa’s side. Arya had not yet finished her sentence when Edric made Lady Brienne stumble and yield. It was however the only bout he would win against her that day.

The crowd dispersed when Eddard Stark appeared on the rampart overlooking the training yard. “Please continue your training.” He waved his hand then addressed his son. “Robb, can you join me in my solar please. I have received some messages and you will soon need to make yourself presentable to stand by my side when I greet new guests. Lord Bolton and Lord Umber have sent outriders to warn us of their arrival.”

The first message his father showed him was from Sea Dragon Point written by his cousin. Lord Stark discussed the content with him without holding back. Robb’s first emotion was one of relief when Jon started his message by telling them Uncle Benjen was okay and would arrive at Castle Black soon. But then just as his father, Robb was taken aback by the speed of Jon’s plans to invade Dragonstone. The Rebellion would start soon now. Nothing had prepared Robb however for the intense but mixed feelings that flooded him when it dawned on him that he was a fellow conspirator in this Rebellion and a traitor to King Baratheon. On the one hand he felt proud and elated that he was accepted and in the know, on the other head he felt nervous and scared. His heart beat so hard he wondered whether his father could hear it. He looked up and noticed the powerful Lord of Winterfell looked out of his depth and somewhat alarmed as well. The next few moons would not be dull. 

 

***

 

The days leading up to the royal visit Robb fell into a kind of routine. Despite the flurry of activity around the castle, his days were rather uneventful. He broke his fast with his friends, then attended the daily sparring session and was glad to see his own progress at the expense of his friends. Edric had praised him but Loras had just gritted his teeth and doubled his efforts to find new ways to beat him. After lunch he assisted his father while Loras carried out several tasks the Lord of Winterfell had assigned him. Edric either joined Loras or helped Lady Brienne who faithfully followed the younger Stark siblings in an effort to keep them out of trouble. They all dined together and played silly guessing games or told each other exaggerated tales. 

Theon Greyjoy kept a low profile these days, either keeping his conversation to neutral topics or making himself scarce. He rarely appeared at training sessions stating chores kept him busy. Robb knew it was just a flimsy excuse not to get soundly beaten each day by men younger than him.  
Robb relished these last few days of relative calm. He knew all too well it would not be long before things would start happening and he knew there was no guarantee that his family would stay as safe and happy throughout it all as they were now 

 

One morning, Robb had just started another bout with Loras Tyrell when his father made an appearance on the rampart. The Lord of Winterfell waited until he had everyone’s attention.  
“I suggest you all go to your rooms and make yourselves presentable. The King’s party has been spotted and will be here shortly after noon. Everyone reacted excited. For many it would be the first time they laid eyes on King Robert and the King would be bringing almost his entire royal court north. While everyone made their way to their quarters, Robb noticed the tense posture of his father whose eyes were sweeping over the courtyard studying everyone’s reaction. When he crossed his son’s eyes both men exchanged a grave, meaningful look. His father subtly acknowledged him with a barely perceptible nod and disappeared inside.

 

***

 

Everyone of importance stood lined up in the courtyard trying to be patient and appear at ease. Finally they could hear the noise of the royal caravan approaching the inner courtyard. Lord Stark surveyed the receiving lines. His wife stood at his right side in all her finery, her hair for once arranged in a southern style. He saw she had done something similar to both his daughters’ hairdo, but while the style complemented the beautiful face of Sansa, Arya looked uncomfortable and had already managed to ruin the elaborate patterns of her braids. Robb stood upright a focussed expression on his face. Ned had noticed that he had helped Bran and Rickon get ready earlier. Even now his heir encouraged his younger siblings to stand straight with their eyes forward and keep the line straight. Ned was proud of him, he was proud of all his children. 

His eyes moved further down the line. Loras Tyrell stood out in all his finery. Eddard Stark had to stifle a laugh when he saw him. The northern Lords would never take him serious dressed like this. His bannermen dressed according to weather and functionality. The lad clearly hadn’t considered the weather when he put on his thin flowery coat. The wind blew from the north today. He had seen the young man shiver more than once already. Lady Brienne stood stiffly next to him. Edric Dayne completed that end of the first line. 

Ned turned left to survey the other half of the front row. The more important Lords of the North were all present. Even Lord Roose Bolton had made the trip. Upon his arrival their greeting had been cold. Ned had insisted upon a truce for the duration of the King’s visit. Roose Bolton had only agreed on the assumption that he would not leave Winterfell before all matters between them were resolved. Ned finished reviewing the lines. Behind him stood Theon Greyjoy next to his Master at Arms and Maester Luwin. Several minor lords, loyal houseguards and the rest of their household completed the receiving party. 

The gates opened and the large caravan entered the courtyard of Winterfell. He squeezed his wife’s hand and gave her an encouraging smile. She nodded her head at him. He knew she would play her role to perfection. She often talked about visiting Kingslanding now and how she longed to mingle among royalty and the finest lords and knights of the realm. Ned turned his attention back toward King Robert. His mind was made up. He had promised himself to keep his guilt to a minimum. He would just do his part and serve his rightful King. _'You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused as to where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.'_ It would become his mantra during this ordeal.

He started his mummery by kneeling deep and bowing his head in submission when the King came through the gates. Everyone followed their Lord’s example. Ned could follow the feet of the squire that ran towards the King’s horse to help his sovereign dismount. From the corner of his eyes he noticed the King had some difficult getting of his horse. Now Robert’s feet were in front of him.

The King made a hand gesture and Ned rose back to his feet. He could hear the shuffle of everyone else once more following his lead. “Your Grace.” He greeted his former friend trying to keep the shock from his face when he took in the bloated figure of his once so vigorous foster brother.

“Such a long time Ned. Why haven’t I seen you?”

“I have been guarding the North, your Grace.” Ned replied keeping his tone neutral.

The King glimpsed at the receiving line. “Catelyn,” he greeted. “A fine looking bunch of children, my Lady.”

“I thank you, your Grace.”

“Your eldest looks ready to take the world on. He’ll make a handsome northern Lord. You should get him married soon so he can start giving you grandchildren. The King surveyed the rest of the receiving line. He nodded his head a few times and decided he was done with the formalities. “Come Ned, let’s visit the crypts.” Without any consideration for his queen who had just arrived at his side, he left the courtyard.”

Both women looked at each other with barely contained unease. Then Catelyn greeted her Queen according to court protocol and showed her inside.

 

***

 

In the crypt, King Robert took long strides towards the spot where Lyanna’s statue stood. They were completely alone. He faced his estranged friend. “I need you Ned. I need you in Kingslanding. Now that Lord Arryn is dead, I would name you Hand of the King.”

“Your Grace,” Ned started. Hehad stopped walking at this point. Two sculptures still separated the men from where his sister’s likeness stood. 

The King had stopped as well and faced Ned. “I will not take no for an answer, Ned. Your son has grown up. He can guard the North in your stead. No more excuses. I need you now more than ever.” 

“Your Grace?”

“I am having nightmares, Ned. Every bloody night, ever since I heard the rumours of a dragon flying over the Narrow Sea. I should have killed every last one of these Targaryens”

“I heard those rumours. My informants told me it was most likely a rather small one presumably owned by the Golden Company, not by the Targaryens in Essos. There is only one Targaryen left in Essos anyway. The Prince Viserys perished a long time ago.”

You do not think that female incestuous dragonspawn in Essos has anything to do with that flying monstrosity?” King Robert insisted.

“I’m fairly sure. My sources tell me she hardly ever leaves her small fortress and if she does it is only on an innocent trip to a local market a few miles from her home. How could she possibly raise a dragon let alone send it out to kill pirates on the Narrow Sea?”

“You do not reckon that this dragon is a threat to us then?” King Robert looked at his friend sporting almost the same look his children used when they needed reassurance.

“Not now anyway. If you make enemies who have enough gold to hire the Golden Company however... But that is not the case is it? One small dragon chasing pirates is hardly a threat to Westeros, your Grace.” Ned tried to keep his face even.

“See you're making your case for me. My counsellors had their doubts about you. Told me you were locked up in the far north and didn’t involve yourself with our politics. You’re at least as well if not better informed than they are. What’s more you have a sound mind in that head of yours and do not panic easily.  
Your advice on this matter outweighs everything my council has plagued me with lately. I am not asking you to become my Hand. You already are, Ned. You’ve attended your first official meeting with your King. How soon can we leave for King's Landing?”

“And antagonise my wife? She has prepared several festivities for the coming days. The Lords of the North have travelled a long way to see you. No your Grace, my second advice as your Hand is to stay here for the prearranged two sennights.”

“Ah, now it is official. You’ve confirmed it yourself.” The King beamed from ear to ear when he reached inside his pocket and handed Ned the famous Hand of the King’s brooch.  
“Now about that betrothal between our children.” 

“Better quit while you’re ahead, your Grace. My daughter is far too young yet. Let’s revisit this topic in a year or two.” To appease Robert, he fastened the brooch on his doublet.

“But Ned.” Again Robert’s demeanour reminded Ned of his children.

“I’m sorry, your Grace. You get one favour from me today. Either I become your Hand or you get your betrothal. You choose.” He kept his tone firm.

“You bloody well know what I choose. I’ll agree, for now anyway. In a year you say? You could get me in trouble with the Tyrells but well, my Hand will solve that for me. That’s what I need a Hand for anyway. I get you to rule my Kingdoms and solve my problems while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave.” The King belly laughed.

Ned heard the manipulation of his deadline but decided to let it slide. Jon would make his move before the year was out anyway. “Shall we return to the courtyard, your Grace?” 

“Don’t your Grace me when we are in private. That’s an order. And I need your advice on another matter. What should I do with Renly?”

“Is Prince Renly still in the black cells in King's Landing? Robert, you cannot be serious.” Ned exclaimed feeling somewhat guilty about the younger Lord’s fate.

“No, I brought him with me. In chains, mind you. I wanted to ask you whether it would be a good idea to send him on to the Wall. You always claim the realm can use good men up there."

“I hope you do not mean to sentence him to be a lowly recruit and make him vow his life to the Night’s Watch foreswearing his title. Could you not send him there as your royal emissary with special rights and benefits instead?” Ned tried to at least ease the predicament of the unfortunate brother of the King. 

“Can I do that? Damn you’re a genius Ned. I do not lose face and he gets to live a decent live. He is still my brother, you know.” The King sighed. “This entire matter does not sit well with me. Of course I knew he leaned that way but he had always been so careful, so discreet. When I saw that Tyrell boy standing there… Best keep that lad out of my sight as much as possible, Ned.”

“Consider it done. I will draw up a royal decree for your brother. You will be able to sign it soon. My brother serves me as an official liaison as well. He is at the Wall now. I’ll tell him to look out for Prince Renly. He will be all right, Robert. You can rest easy as far has he is concerned. And please give me leave to set him up in a room in the castle for now. I know just the place. Somewhere nobody will find him. I’ll post my houseguards and ensure that he doesn’t leave. But I would ask for your permission to release him from his chains.”

“The matter is your responsibility now. Do as you see fit. I’ll sign whatever you write. Come on. Let us join the others in the Great Hall. I am in dire need of a large pint of ale.” The King turned back without even sparing a glance for Lyanna’s statue. 

Ned sighed and repeated in his head. _‘You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused about where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.’_ He followed the King he pretended to serve. 

 

When Ned left the crypts the sunlight blinded him. He squinted and noticed King Robert standing next to his good brothers Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion Lannister. Ned could hear the King’s booming laugh and used the opportunity to scan the courtyard for his Master at Arms. He saw the man standing in the corner talking to one of King Robert’s Kingsguards. He gestured him to come over.

“Cassel, look for Prince Renly Baratheon. He is imprisoned in one the wagons still waiting in the courtyard. I want you to take him out discreetly. Once inside, remove his chains and install him in one of the unused rooms in the east wing, best one at the end of the corridor next to the stockroom where we keep our stores for the coming winter. See that he has everything he needs, a comfortable bed regular food and drink of decent quality. I need you to post two discreet Stark houseguards and lock his door. And Cassel, treat him well, no jibes or harassment, he still is a Prince and the King’s brother. I will punish anyone who oversteps. This also includes the White Cloaks or anyone else in the royal caravan, no matter their status. Do I make myself clear?” 

“You can count on me, my Lord. Prince Renly Baratheon will have no reason to complain. I will personally see to it. And let me be one of the first to congratulate you.” Cassel’s eyes dropped to the brooch pinned on his Lord’s chest.

Ned nodded his head and expressed his thanks. Rodrik Cassel watched his Lord walk away, a puzzled expression on his features. He didn’t know what to think. His Lord had not confided in him but he had gotten wind of some of the things that were going on. This royal visit however did not fit his expectations. And now Lord Stark wore the brooch of the Hand of the King. He reckoned it was the very first time in his service to House Stark that he doubted his Lord’s intentions. He would stay loyal but he was going to find a way to confront Eddard Stark in private. It was high time he knew for sure what was going on. 

 

***

 

In the meantime Lady Catelyn had ushered the royal entourage inside. They were all enjoying the surprising warmth inside the walls of Winterfell. Food and drinks were welcomed by all.

Robb saw Lord Tyrion being interrogated by Arya and decided to let the scene play out. He frowned when he saw Prince Joffrey trying to push Sansa in a corner. His sister looked like a frightened deer. _‘Damn what was the arrogant fool telling his sister to have her that frightened so quickly.'_ He had often heard her talk about the Crown Prince with a dreamy expression in her eyes always coming up with stories of how handsome and valiant he was. He then noticed Loras and Edric both had a thunderous expression on their faces and were following the scene as well. He decided to intervene in order to prevent his friends from doing something rash. Before he reached Sansa however, lady Brienne appeared at her side and introduced herself to the Crown Prince. 

“We met already in Kingslanding, my Lady.” The Crown Prince was quick to dismiss her and continue his attentions to Sansa.

“My Prince, I believe we have not been formally introduced yet? Lord Robb of House Stark at your service.” Robb made a bow and subtly pushed his sister to the side. Lady Brienne didn’t hesitate and inserted herself between the young girl and the Prince. “And have you met my younger brothers?” He signalled Rickon and Bran who were only too willing to approach and meet a real Prince.

He saw Sansa whisper something in Lady Brienne’s ear. She looked visibly relieved. He was glad he hadn’t overstepped and that she had really been in need of rescue. Loras and Edric now joined the ladies. Robb proceeded with the introductions ignoring the sullen expression on the Crown Prince’s face. The two groups split up. Prince Joffrey was now cornered by the three sons of Eddard Stark.

 

“What did he do or say?” Edric whispered looking deep into Sansa’s eyes a worried frown on his face.

“Not here.” Lady Brienne admonished him. “Let’s all act normal and for the Gods' sake, do not leave Lady Sansa unattended for even one instant during the entire length of his visit. I do not trust that spoiled brat for one bit.”

Sansa shivered what only made the two young men more protective of her. “We are your servants, Lady Sansa. Feel free to call on us whenever you need us.” Loras bowed and kissed her hand gallantly looking at Edric with a mocking expression in his eyes.

“I think it is time lady Sansa changed into an appropriate dress for dinner. I will accompany her of course.” Lady Brienne announced and led Sansa to the nearest entrance.

“I do not like thi,s Loras,” Edric exclaimed with great feeling although he kept his voice low.

“Indeed, we better talk to Robb later. He can ask his father to intervene if necessary. Did you see the Hand of the King’s brooch? Jon was right. But then he always is.”

 

Lord Tyrion was still entertaining Arya Stark. He rather liked the spirit of the little she-wolf. Without her noticing he had carefully interrogated her about the goings on at Winterfell. He now knew the Stark’s normal daily routines. Had heard where they kept their direwolves at night and other useful stuff. He had obliged her however to keep her suspicions at bay and had described the latest tournament at King's Landing to her at length. More specifically how his brother Jaime Lannister had lost in the finals of the joust to Ser Arys Oakheart.  
He had been observing the goings on in the great hall as much as possible. His keen eyes had watched the scene between Joffrey and Sansa and he had been glad his interference had not been necessary.

Suddenly his brother was at his side. “Why can you not tell her of all my glorious victories? Did you really have to describe my biting the dust in such gruesome detail?”

Arya laughed. “Because he is smart and understands those are the stories I like the most. She took a piece of his white coat between her fingers. “How do you keep it so clean? I always wear dark clothes because I get dirty when I fight so that Mother can’t distinguish the dirt since they already look dark before I start.”

“Gods girl, don’t you ever forget to breathe?” Jamie removed his coat from her fingers. “You will make it dirty if you go on like that. Have you seen me fight since I arrived here?” When he saw her shaking her head he muttered. “Well, there you have your answer.” 

Arya clearly didn’t like his snobbish attitude and ran off in search of another victim to tell her stories about Kingslanding.  
Tyrion looked at his brother. “Did you really have to frighten the girl away? She means no harm. She is a lively little thing.”

“I prefer Tommen and Myrcella’s attitude. They are quietly sitting over there looking at a book with little Rickon Stark. It must be a rather extraordinary book to keep Tommen’s interest for this long.”

“I see you do not include Joffrey in your praise. Did you happen to notice his abominable behaviour earlier? I think he propositioned Sansa Stark”. When he saw his brother’s sceptical expression he added, “Yes I mean that by it and she didn’t welcome his advances. To the contrary, the poor girl couldn’t get away fast enough. Apparently she has suitors enough here at Winterfell to keep her safe even if her brother beat them to it and saved the damsel in distress.”

“What exactly did the stupid boy do now?” Jaime looked exasperated.

“I saw him corner her and held onto her arm when she tried to get away. I think his words did more damage than his deeds though. She looked rather frightened.” Tyrion watched his brother’s frown grow more pronounced.

“I’ll talk to him.” He promised. 

“See that you talk to that sister of ours as well. Perhaps he is just following orders from his mommy dear.” Tyrion was almost sure his sister had instigated this little scheme. 

“You don’t think? All right I’ll take care of it.” He amended his sentence when he saw his brother’s critical look.

“I have to find me some more of this wine. Didn’t I tell you that Lord Stark has excellent trade relations with the Reach? He certainly serves excellent wine.”  
Tyrion made sure to pass near Tommen’s and Myrcella’s location to get a glimpse of the book they were still engrossed in under the watchful eye of Rickon Stark. He stopped abruptly when he heard Myrcella read something that resembled High Valyrian although her pronunciation was rather bad. “And how is my favourite niece tonight?” Tyrion asked and tried to study the book inconspicuously. 

Myrcella giggled. “I am your only niece, Uncle Tyrion. I am trying to read this funny book. “Animals are speaking in different languages, see?” She showed her uncle the book but didn’t hand it to him. When Tyrion pointed at an image, she immediately withdrew the book and admonished him. “Be careful Uncle, I promised Rickon I would keep it clean. It is his most precious book you see. A dear friend made it especially for him. I had to be very persuasive to be allowed to hold it for a little while.”

“She gave him a kiss on his cheek.” Tommen betrayed his sister, still disappointed he was not allowed to touch the book and had to restrict himself to look at it. 

Tyrion watched Rickon Stark turn red but the youngest Stark didn’t give in and spoke up now. 

“It is my book. I decide who gets to see it. And the Princess is very careful, so she may have it a bit longer. I will want it back soon though.”

“That must be a very special friend or a very special book if you are so protective of it” Tyrion was really curious now. The page he had been able to see was intriguing. The sentences written beneath the drawings were indeed translations in High Valyrian, and not just some common words. Tyrion had seen several expressions he would have had trouble translating if not for the solution being written right beneath it. Perhaps the person who wrote this was from Essos and High Valyrian was his mother tongue? He listened carefully to Rickon’s answer.

“He is but he is more Arya’s and Robb’s friend cause I was really little when he visited. Arya says he is kind of our adopted brother but I do not believe that cause I never get to see him. I wrote him a thank you note even though I can’t remember what he looks like.”

“I would treasure such a friend all the same.” Tyrion remarked and left the children to continue his search for another glass of wine. He would make sure to have another conversation with Arya Stark in the coming days

 

****

 

Robb gathered his siblings together before they went into supper. He had heard part of Rickon’s conversation with Lord Tyrion Lannister. He stressed once more that Jon was a special friend, as good as family but that he actually was a bit of a secret. They should not talk about him while the King was here and certainly not answer questions of the Lannisters. Jon was part of their pack and they needed to protect him. He would stay safe if nobody knew who or where he was.

When Arya told Robb in a superior tone she would never do that, Bran spoke up.  
“I saw you talking to the dwarf. You sure as hell told him a lot about Winterfell. And you talked to Brienne about Jon too.” He accused her.

“Bran, heed your language. He is Lord Tyrion Lannister to you. Do not call him the dwarf. If someone hears you talking like that you could get in trouble. He is the King’s good brother. Also mother would wash out your mouth with soap if she heard you use that swear word.” Robb admonished his brother.

“I did talk to Lord Tyrion and I told him exactly what I wanted to tell him, a bit of the truth that wasn’t a secret and a bit of a less accurate truth. I knew what he was about all along. I told him that the direwolves slept in a pen the entire night and he believed me. See? I am smarter than all of you.” Arya was quick to defend her actions. “And I did not reveal much to the Lady Brienne, even though she keeps asking me about Jon Celtigar all the time. I only brought him up once because I wanted her to swear her sword to Jon. I know she can be trusted, Robb, I just know it.” Arya’s big eyes were fixed on Robb now a pleading look in them.

“Better let Father handle that, Arya. I think Jon would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him to anyone. Can you do that for him?” While Arya nodded vigorously Robb continued to warn her.

“Arya, do be careful. Lord Tyrion is very smart. Do not think you can outsmart him. From what I know of the Lannisters, he will try to find out more about our special friend.”  
He turned to Rickon once more. “You are sure you didn’t mention a name?”

The little boy looked stricken as if he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Robb crouched down and put a reassuring hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Come now Rickon, you didn’t really do anything wrong. You just didn’t know before. If anyone asks after Jon again, persuade them to come to me with their questions. Just tell them that I am the one who knows him best.” He turned his head to his little sister. “Arya, that goes for you too, you hear?” 

“I promise Robb, I will make Jon very proud.” Arya was quick to point out.

Robb smiled at her and nodded encouragingly. “I know you will, you already do.”  
He patted his little brother on the shoulder once more. “Come on let me fix your shirt. You have to look your best if you want to sit next to Princess Myrcella again.

 

***

 

Later that night Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne, Loras Tyrell and Robb cornered Lord Eddard Stark in his solar. After explaining Sansa’s ordeal, Lady Brienne was appointed her faithful shadow for the duration of the royal visit and vowed to only leave her side when one of the others relieved her of her duties. They worked out some sort of schedule and some code words and signals. Lord Stark also doubled the guards in the corridors where the ladies slept. 

They discussed a few changes in the normal order of the day at Winterfell. One of them was a temporarily suspension of the sparring lessons of his children. For the entire length of the royal visit, the training yard was off limits to anyone under the age of fifteen. Lord Stark asked them all to keep Prince Joffrey entertained during the arranged activities and as far away from the ladies as possible. Lord Stark would speak to his wife about the seating arrangements in the Great Hall. When they ran out of ideas, Lord Stark asked them to leave so he could finish the royal decrees he was preparing. 

 

***

 

The next day after breaking their fast, Edric cornered Loras when he tried to leave the Great Hall. “Loras, can you escort me to my room in a bit? There is something I think you need to know.” Edric had struggled with a dilemma but after talking with Lord Stark, they had decided his friend deserved to know the truth. 

“Something more serious than Sansa being harassed by a conniving upstart Prince?” Loras asked bewildered by the troubled look on Edric’s face.

“Be careful, someone might overhear you. Let’s mingle for a bit. I’ll meet you in the corridor at the left exit in a short while. I’ll give you a signal before I leave and then you will wait a few moments before you join me.” Edric whispered. “I need to talk to you alone without raising suspicion.”

Loras was intrigued now. However he obeyed and went over to the opposite side of the room where Rickon was showing his book to Tyrion without another glance or word at Edric. When Loras finally left the Great Hall, he found Edric waiting from him and followed his friend to the east wing of the castle.

“I know we have not known each other long but I consider you my friend, Loras. Will you confide in me?” Edric asked looking rather anxious.

“What exactly are you asking?” Loras got even more worried when he noticed where they were headed. “Where in the Seven Hells did Lady Catelyn assign you a room? Next to the servants’ quarters?”

“Well, I was an unexpected guest and the royal entourage is extensive. But this location is very much related to the topic I wanted to talk to you about. Do you trust me, Loras?”

“Ask already. You are giving me the creeps. Where are we anyway?”

Edric ignored his last question. He pulled Loras in an alcove out of sight although hardly anyone ventured to this part of the castle especially at this time of day. “What is your actual relationship with Prince Renly? Will you tell me? Were the two of you lovers or did he abuse you?” Edric whispered, his eyes taking in the shifting emotions on Loras’ face. His expression had switched from bewilderment to anger and finally to sorrow. Loras had dropped his head.

“Why do you ask this of me? Do you want to torture me?” A single tear escaped Loras’ eye and was slowly rolling down his cheek.

“I am just trying to determine if you are still interested enough to know where he is and whether it would help you to witness with your own eyes that he was all right.” Edric explained. He had an inkling of what his friend was feeling but needed to be very sure. 

Loras lifted his head. Hope flared up in his friend’s moist eyes and the words spilled out of him. “I love him. I do. He didn’t abuse me. I feel guilty for letting him take the fall. But he ordered me to, arguing he could not deny anything but I could still save myself. He sacrificed himself for me.” Tears now flowed freely. Edric waited patiently for Loras to regain a bit of composure. 

Finally Loras wiped the tears from his face in a determined way and looked at him. ”I thought you had understood as much when you discovered me sobbing at that creek in the Riverlands. Why ask this of me now, when the King is here? Oh, do you think I should petition King Robert to show some leniency toward Prince Renly?” He frowned. “But Lord Stark asked me to keep my distance from the King and keep a low profile during the royal visit.” 

“Loras, Prince Renly is here. And I mean this literally. He is right here, in a room around the corner. I have already cleared it with Lord Stark. If you want to, we are allowed to visit him.”

“Now? This instant?” Loras was glad he had been pushed against the wall. The surprise had turned his legs to jelly and he was not sure he would still be standing upright without the wall supporting him. “Renly is here? Is he okay?”

“I’ll let him tell you that himself. If things go well, I will leave the two of you alone halfway through the visit. Just give me a clear signal so I know that both of you are okay with it.”

Loras hugged Edric. “I will never forget this, Edric, ever! You can ask any service of me, anytime. I’ll even help you get some private time with Sansa if you want.”

“That’s one hell of a promise Loras. We’ll talk about that later. I might have a service to ask of you now that you mention it. As for the lovely lady Sansa, the only service we need to perform for her is to keep her company for now. Come on, wipe these tears of that handsome face of yours and make yourself presentable. There is an unsuspecting Prince close by who will be very pleased to see you. I bet he doesn’t even know you are in the North.”

 

***

 

That same night long after supper, Eddard Stark joined the three boys who were talking quietly in a corner. After some time when they all agreed to retire, he gestured Loras to stay behind. 

Loras instantly realised Lord Stark would bring up his lengthy visit to Prince Renly and hoped Edric had not overstepped. He silently followed Lord Stark to his solar and sat down in the chair Robb’s father pointed at. 

Lord Stark didn’t keep him in suspense and came right to the point. “I wanted to let you know what has been decided concerning Prince Renly’s future. I also want to ask you to be circumspect in your visits to him. I give you leave to see him as often as you want as long as you are not discovered. The guards I post at his door are in the know of course. They are some of my most loyal men and will not betray you to the King or anyone else for that matter.”

“My Lord, you mean to tell me you do not act on behalf of the King in this matter?” Loras’ eyes lingered on the brooch. Renly had explained at length how bad he had been treated in King's Landing. They had starved him, mocked him and hurt him in every way they could get away with. The journey to Winterfell had been hell. Renly had also told him he had overheard his current guards speaking to each other. They had gossiped about the displeasure of the royal guards at his change in circumstances. It had become clear to him that it was on Eddard Stark’s personal orders that his treatment had changed for the better. Everyone that dared to mistreat him had been threatened with severe punishment.

Ned sighed. He had seen Loras eying his brooch. Everyone treated him differently now. He hated the damn thing already. “Let this be our little secret Lord Tyrell. One of my first actions as Hand of the King was to resolve Prince Renly’s situation. You are perhaps aware that my brother, Benjen Stark is the official liaison between the Night’s Watch and the Warden of the North. He often joins the party of the Night’s Watch that collects the taxes throughout the realm and escorts new recruits to the Wall and consequently can’t always attend to his duties here in the North. It has been decided by royal decree,” he gestured to the scroll he was currently working on, “that Prince Renly shall be the emissary of the King at the Wall with special status. At first he will not be allowed to leave the Wall, but that will soon change so he can fulfil his new duties adequately.”  
Lord Stark looked directly at Loras. “Lord Edric told me of your promise to him. He releases you from it if you give me the same promise you gave my brother Benjen several moons ago. I want you to vow on your honour as a Tyrell not to reveal anything you will discover during your stay at Winterfell.”

He saw the boy’s eyes widen as he connected the dots. “You know about the three famous knights?” He ventured keeping his voice low.

“Technically you are breaking your vow to my brother right here and now.” Lord Stark tried to keep his voice stern but knew he didn’t succeed. “I’ll give you a free pass for now but realise that someone could bait you in a similar fashion and you would just have revealed something you have sworn not to.”

He took pity on the young man who looked stricken. “But to answer your question, yes it is all connected and I know about them. You are still forbidden to inform your family for now. Hopefully things will change soon. We are on the same side, you, me, my brother, Edric, Robb and the three famous knights. I can go on and include everyone you saw in the Riverlands on this list. If you trust Edric, you can trust me as well. And you can rest assured that I will do my utmost to ensure Prince Renly gets his life back as soon as possible. I have seen to it that he is not stripped of his title. For now he is just not allowed to choose where he goes next. He will not have to take the black and swear the oath of the Night’s Watch.” He had ended this speech once more stressing his part in Prince Renly’s improved faith to remind Loras that he owed them so the young Tyrell would vow to stay silent without pressing for further details first.

Loras didn’t know what to say at first. His mind was reeling. Edric was involved in some sort of secret dealings with the Starks and his friend wanted him to swear another oath to the Starks? He just thanked Lord Stark on automatic pilot and only swore his vow after being gently reminded he still hadn’t done so. He decided to find Robb and Edric as soon as he left here. He would not break his vow if he talked to them. After all, they were all on the same side as Lord Stark had just explained to him. A thought struck his mind. “Is Lady Brienne on this _‘same side’_ as well?” He put an extra emphasis on the term Lord Stark had used. It was clear he did not know what this _‘same side’_ meant yet.

“I hope she will be soon. But leave that to me. Do not talk to her about this yet. You can reassure her on the fate of Prince Renly however. If Prince Renly allows it, she can also visit him. But the same restrictions apply. She has to be covert and not alert the royal entourage that Prince Renly is receiving visitors. That way gossip will be kept to a minimum. Now I really have to finish writing this royal decree. Just to be clear, there will be no official announcement of Prince Renly’s fate in court. News of this will slowly spread around as it always does but hopefully in such a fashion that it will hardly be discussed. Another scandal will take precedence. Good news is never as newsworthy as a shocking piece of gossip."

Loras bowed his head once more in thanks and left the room. He would talk to Robb and Edric some other time. Suddenly it didn’t seem that urgent anymore. For the first time in a long time he could look to the future with hope again.

 

In the meanwhile Lord Stark finished writing up the royal decree. He was glad there had been no music or dancing after supper and everyone had left the common room a bit earlier than the previous nights. He still had time to deal with one more issue tonight. He planned to talk to Cassel and then he could finally retire to his bedchambers. He was lucky Rodrik Cassel was a loyal man. His Master at Arms had come directly to him with his confusing discoveries. It was time to bring him into the conspiracy.

 

***

 

Catelyn Stark was tired. This was the sixth night in a row that she had put on an elaborate feast for the King and his entire entourage. This royal visit proved to be a very expensive one. When she had broached the subject with her husband, Ned had told her not to worry. He said he always put money aside for occasions like this. The North had prospered these last few years. He explained that he been able to put aside more for these last few years than his father’s yearly contribution to the winter fund the Starks always laid money aside for.

 

The first day of the King’s visit she had been worried to see Ned leave the crypts with the brooch fixed on his breast. The King had only needed a single conversation with Ned to convince her reticent husband. Ned however had reassured her later that night in their bedroom. He had told her he had been able to stall the King regarding the betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa. The rest were details. Catelyn still had mixed feelings about the entire business. There was a silver lining though. She was looking forward to moving to the capital. She had been a generous lover that night. Her husband was Hand of the King! Even if she knew it would not last, every lady at the royal court knew of her newly acquired status. She was the wife of the Hand of the King, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms except for the King. Everyone would treat her accordingly. Catelyn was going to relish every single moment of her newly acquired status.

Today would be an easy day though. Almost every Lord in the royal party had left early this morning. Ned had organised a hunt that would take up the entire day. She would only need to entertain the few ladies of Cersei’s court. The men would eat out in the open around a large bonfire tonight. Cersei had excused herself stating the previous days had tired her out and she needed a day of bedrest. She had declined all offers of assistance. Her own ladies in waiting would care for her. 

Catelyn’s tired eyes checked the whereabouts of her children. The weather was pleasant today and they were all outside. Robb of course had joined the hunt, Greywind at his side. She was proud of her son. On several occasions Catelyn had noticed ladies of the court of all ages following her son with their eyes when they saw him walking around the castle with Greywind at his side. She had heard them whispering behind her back that the one who would catch him as a husband would be very lucky. She focused on her search. Sansa was easy to spot. Her beautiful daughter was sitting demurely in the shades reading a book out loud. Tommen and Myrcella sat on the ground facing her and were listening closely. Some other children sat at her feet as well. Apparently Ned had persuaded the royal guard that his houseguard could watch the royal children today so the men could all enjoy the hunt and protect the King and the Crown Prince. Lady Brienne of Tarth was guarding Lady Sansa and enjoying the story she read at the same time.  
She spotted Arya playing with a few boys but nothing too wild. They were playing a children’s game with pebbles. Rickon was building something with his wooden toys near the bushes in the corner of the yard. 

Now she only needed to locate Bran. She looked in every direction but couldn’t find him. She scanned the walls of the castle as well. ‘Seven hells’, she had promised Ned never to let him wander off alone during the royal visit. Somehow Ned had taken a premonition to heart and had ordered her to see to it her children and in particular Bran were never alone. They had to stay together and move around Winterfell accompanied by at least one sibling. She did not believe in premonitions but had thought it would do no harm to indulge him. Besides Ned hadn’t relented until she had solemnly promised him she would take care of it.

“Arya, do you know where Bran is? “ She asked still looking around.

“He said he wanted to play by the old Tower.” Arya looked up to her mother. 

“Is nobody with him?” her mother admonished. “You all know of father’s edict.”

“I’m sorry, Mother but Summer went with him and Nymeria followed in my stead. I am sure he is okay.” At her mother’s thunderous expression she jumped to her feet. “I’ll go to him now, Mother. Do not worry.”

Arya ran to the old Tower. She noticed Nymeria and Summer sitting close to the building, both wolves were looking up. She followed their gaze and saw Bran had scaled the walls. He was really high up and was looking at something through the top window of the tower. Suddenly both direwolves started to growl but kept their eyes trained on Bran. She took a few steps to reach the curved wall of the tower and petted Nymeria to get her to calm down. Arya strained her neck to look up at Bran and saw someone else was up there. She immediately recognized the blond head of Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s brother that peeked out of the window. Ser Jaime scanned the environment but he failed to notice her, probably because she was standing directly beneath him. She witnessed Ser Jaime putting his hand on Bran’s chest. Bran looked down at her clearly frightened. The enormity of the situation suddenly struck her. Arya screamed for all she was worth. 

 

 

**Interlude 15: Our blades are sharp**

 

Roose Bolton was studying his options. How best to use this standard invitation to Winterfell to his advantage? All bannermen of House Stark were cordially invited to attend the royal visit for its entire duration. Not a mention of a betrothal or any response to his other demands. Just a routine summons all vassal Lords had received. Or perhaps not even that, the other messages had probably contained a more cordial ending than just the formal signing of Stark’s name and the stately listing of all the coward’s titles.

He had been so confident all those years ago when the charismatic Brandon perished and the guileless Silent Wolf became Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Surely this was the power vacuum generations of Boltons had waited for. He had been patient and studied the situation before deciding on a course of action. And that had been a big mistake. 

At first it seemed like everything was working out in his favour. Lord Eddard Stark had left King's Landing dismayed by the necessary murder of the royal children. The boneless man didn’t understand that you had to eliminate those with a stronger claim. Roose Bolton highly respected Tywin Lannister for the way he had gone about it. He was a man after his own heart. But very predictably the honourable Stark, idiot that he was, had rejected the influence and power King Robert would surely offer his dear friend. He had retreated to the North after traipsing across the continent on a fool’s errand. Who risked so much for a useless female? Afterwards he had scrutinised Lord Stark’s initial actions as Warden of the North.

He didn’t understand why the young Lord spent so much time and money fortifying the borders of his Kingdom and even sponsored the Night’s Watch to the extent that his younger brother had no life of his own any longer. Benjen Stark neither married nor started a family. At that time he reasoned House Bolton could profit from strengthened borders when they took over. Even after the Greyjoy Rebellion Lord Stark had not capitalised on his restored relationship with the royal family but had made a true fortress of Winterfell. Roose now suspected him of working towards an independent Northern Kingdom. Could the Silent Wolf be that devious and ambitious? Still Roose had hesitated. He had not yet been able to weaken the loyalty of the northern lords to House Stark. Eddard Stark still had a lot of support in the North. Subtle statements about Stark wasting money for his self-glorification and taking the wrong actions to solve the Wildling problems were mostly falling on deaf ears. Finally he was making progress. He was certain that given a bit more time the Umbers and the Karstarks could be persuaded to support his ambitions, if only his bastard son could mimic a few more cruel Wildling attacks. Nevertheless, it had all been coming together much too slowly for his taste.

And then, out of nowhere, he had gotten the support of an unexpected ally. They offered to help him secure the position of Warden of the North. They had promised to weaken the Warden of the North’s position by causing trouble on several fronts at once. They would shame the Lord of Winterfell in sending a small army south to help his good family in the Riverlands and would also encourage the Ironborn to attack the Stony Shore in full force. All he had to do was take some Stark children hostage and force the noble man to step down to save his kin.

Roose Bolton had slightly altered these instructions to incorporate them into his own ambitious plan. He would marry his son into House Stark and once they let their guard down and came with the entire family to the Dreadfort for a visit, he would spring the trap, guest rights be damned. They were Boltons anyway. They had their own customs and he was proud of them. Their sigil was a red flayed man upside-down on an x-shaped white cross over a field of black. Their house words were _'Our Blades Are Sharp'_ , though he preferred the more common saying _‘A naked man has few secrets; a flayed man, none._ ’ To have real power, people needed to fear you. 

He had not dared to share his plans with his son yet. Lately he had begun to doubt the potential of his legitimate heir. Domeric was too damn honourable. Years ago the lad had begged him to be allowed to become a squire to some southern knight. The boy dreamt of becoming an honourable knight. If he didn’t know any better he would suspect his wife had lain with a Stark. His bastard Ramsay Snow on the other hand showed promise. It looked like he could be the more worthy successor. If he had recognised that earlier, he could just have switched the boys at birth and nobody would have been the wiser. Well perhaps the boy’s mother and his nurse would have known but those two useless snivellers would just have died by his hand a few years sooner.

Ramsay Snow was the real Bolton. He only needed to teach the young man a bit of restraint. At the very least he should be a bit more discreet about his penchant for cruelty. He was sure Ramsay would have been more enterprising in his endeavours to secure the beautiful Sansa. During their last encounter Domeric had hardly spoken to the girl although Roose had given him strict instructions. Granted, the girl was still fairly young at that time, but opportunities for them to meet were rare. He could at least have invented some heroic tale about a puppy he saved or something to make the mindless girl admire him. 

Perhaps he should give Ramsay his permission to deal with Domeric as his bastard had already hinted at more than once. The only thing holding him back was commons sense. With Domeric gone, he would have to make Ramsay an official Bolton. That would mean Roose himself would be the only obstacle standing between Ramsay and the title of ruling Lord of the Dreadfort and he knew all too well how he himself would act if he found himself in a similar position.

Better to try and talk some sense in Domeric once more. The boy had made himself scarce lately. Roose suspected Domeric had already suffered several of Ramsay’s cruel jokes if not survived an outright assassination attempt or two. Well, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Perhaps Domeric was not a lost cause after all. He would just wait and see how the boys dealt with their rivalry.

In the meantime, Ramsay had done all that was ordered of him. Lately he had befriended Theon Greyjoy. Ramsay had staged an accidental meeting at the brothels in Wintertown. Reeling him in had become easier once Robb Stark was away. Ramsay has earned the Kraken’s trust and fed into his growing hatred for all things Stark. His bastard son had overstepped however and taken Theon with him on a raiding trip. Roose had had to interfere and send Theon back to Winterfell. For now the Ironborn was useful to them there. He could become Ramsay’s plaything soon enough when the Starks were dealt with.

This thought made him feel better. He decided he would accept the invitation and make sure he did not leave Winterfell until he witnessed his heir’s marriage under the famous weirwood tree in the Godswood there. He smiled when he imagined the view or the beautiful red haired Sansa wearing a coat with the Bolton’s sigil on her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we learn the aftermath of Bran’s situation. Jon somehow arrives on the scene.  
> In the interlude, Lord Reed gets two unexpected visitors, an unprecedented occurrence for the greenseer.  
> In the Vale Lord Royce faces an impossible task.


	16. A royal visit -part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn the aftermath of Bran’s situation. Jon somehow arrives on the scene.  
> In the interlude, Lord Reed gets two unexpected visitors, an unprecedented occurrence for the greenseer.  
> In the Vale Lord Royce faces an impossible task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor character death.

Arya ran to the old Tower. She noticed Nymeria and Summer sitting close to the building, both wolves were looking up. She followed their gaze and saw that Bran had scaled the walls. He was really high up and was looking at something through the top window of the tower. Suddenly both direwolves started to growl but kept their eyes trained on Bran. She took a few steps to reach the curved wall of the tower and petted Nymeria to get her to calm down. Arya strained her neck to look up at Bran and noticed someone else was up there. She immediately recognized the blond head of Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s brother that peeked out of the window. Ser Jaime scanned the environment but he failed to notice her, probably because she was standing directly beneath him. She witnessed how Ser Jaime put his hand on Bran’s chest. Bran looked down at her clearly frightened. The enormity of the situation suddenly struck her. Arya screamed for all she was worth. 

 

A few servants, who were working close by dropped what they were doing and ran up to Arya. She pointed toward Bran who was now unsteadily descending. The harness attached with rope to the iron climbing hooks had saved him twice already, once when Ser Jaime had pushed him from the window sill and again when his foot had slipped in his first moments of panic. Jaime Lannister’s head had disappeared. Her little brother, normally so quick and agile was crying and shaking. Even though he was using his new tools, he still had trouble coming down. 

Rodrik Cassel arrived on the scene quickly followed by Catelyn Stark.

“He pushed Bran!” Arya shouted at her mother while pointing to Bran who was almost halfway down by now. “He pushed Bran, and he would have fallen but then he dangled from Jon’s rope and could grab hold of a hook. He would have …,” she had her arms around her mother’s waist. “Please help him. Keep him safe.” She pleaded. Now that help had arrived, Arya started to shake as well. Nymeria left her position at the base of the tower to nuzzle Arya in an effort to comfort her. Arya petted his pelt in thanks and calmed down somewhat. Summer still hadn’t moved a single step, the wolf’s eyes never leaving Bran. The direwolf was barking to the rhythm of Bran’s movements as if to encourage him to keep going. 

One of the first servants on the scene had immediately fetched a few bales of straw. “Do not worry Lady Arya, he is not that high up anymore. And if he falls, the straw will help break his fall.”

They all kept a watchful eye on Bran and saw that the boy had somehow calmed down enough to descend slowly but surely. 

After assessing that Bran’s situation was under control, Rodrik Cassel ran inside the tower. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. Who would want to push Bran? However he did not doubt for a single moment that Arya Stark had seen something and quickly scaled the stairs.  
He wasn’t prepared for the sight that met him when he reached the chamber at the top of the tower and opened the old door. Jaime Lannister was there in the middle of the room in his shirt and breeches. _‘Didn’t the Kingsguard join the hunt?’_

Ser Jaime had his arms around his sister who was weeping in his arms. Her hair was dishevelled, her robe was open. He saw clothes lying on the ground. And now that his brain made the connection he smelled it as well, the distinct odour left after a coupling. _‘But they were brother and sister, twins even?’_ He looked as startled as they did when they spotted him. Cassel didn’t say a word but left the room securing the latch on the door from the outside. They wouldn’t go anywhere for now. His mind was in turmoil. He realised that this would not end well.

When he came down he noticed a few more servants had gathered. He signalled two Stark houseguards. “Barricade the entrance to the tower and stand guard. Nobody is allowed to leave or enter this building until Lord Stark or I say so. Do not heed anyone else, not even an order from the Kingsguard or from the King himself. You are under orders of the Hand of the King.”  
He turned to a third Stark guard. “Gawen, take a fast horse and fetch Lord Stark. He should come at once. Just tell him it is a personal family emergency. Try not to disrupt the hunt. Get Lord Stark to come back alone. Make haste man!”

Cassel surveyed the situation in the yard in front of the tower. Bran’s harness and rope were lying on the ground and the boy was crying in his mother’s arms, with his direwolf glued to his side. He quickly went over to the small group of servants, thanked them for their assistance in getting Bran safely down and sent them on their way, reminding them that Lord Stark appreciated discretion in all matters concerning his family. He was glad he recognised them all and knew they were loyal subjects of House Stark without exception. This was a catastrophe in the making. Best keep it contained as much as possible until Lord Stark decided how to deal with it. He heard Bran trying to speak to his mother and focused his hearing to find out how much the boy had seen and understood. 

“They were doing something strange mama, and then,” he sniffled, “and then the Queen yelled that I saw them and then…“ His sentences were interrupted by his sobbing but the need to tell his mother what had happened to him soon won it from his emotions.  
“And then she looked ugly and said that I would tell and then Ser Jaime looked really strange at me and then he came over to the window and then he grabbed my shirt and then…” This time the boy paused a moment to catch his breath. “And then he put his hand flat on my chest and then he said something but I can’t remember what and then he pushed me. I was so scared mama. I could hear Arya yell and then I dangled in the air and then I remembered I was wearing the harness. I was so scared mama. I almost couldn’t get down. But then Summer calmed me down. I would have fallen if I had not used my new harness.” Having gotten everything out that he wanted to say he started to sob again. 

Catelyn hugged Bran and tried to comfort him but the sobbing only intensified.  
“Will Bran be okay mother?” Arya was pulling at her dress. Her usually so brazen girl still looked really upset. “Why did Ser Jaime push Bran mother? Didn’t he realise how high up my brother was. He could have died.”

“Shhh Arya. Father will take care of everything. And Bran is okay, he is safe now. You see,” she pointed at the guards and the locked door, “Ser Jaime Lannister cannot leave the tower. They have locked him inside. Father will keep you all safe. Now I want us all to go inside and gather in my room. And Arya you are not allowed to tell anyone you saw Ser Jaime. Let father decide what he wants to tell or keep a secret.”

Rodrik Cassel had joined her now and they exchanged a few meaningful gestures and glances. The man gently took Bran from her and together they hurried toward the castle.  
Lady Catelyn was the first to enter the courtyard dragging Arya along. Rodrik Cassel was carrying Bran who had his faced buried in the man’s chest. She motioned Lady Brienne to follow her with her children and called for Myrcella and Tommen to join them as well.

 

***

 

Rodrik Cassel waited for his Lord enter throught the gates and reign in his horse. Clearly Lord Stark had raced all the way here. The horse was lathered in sweat. Lord Stark’s hair was dishevelled and his eyes were wild with worry.

“What happened, Cassel? Gawen wouldn’t say a word. Only that it was a family emergency and that I should make haste.” 

Cassel looked around and led his Lord to a secluded corner in the courtyard. “Quite a mess, my Lord. Bran scaled the old tower and witnessed Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime coupling when he reached the top window. Jaime Lannister attempted to protect their secret by pushing your son from the tower. Luckily the boy was wearing his climbing harness and didn’t fall all the way down. Arya happened to be looking for him and witnessed the whole thing. Her scream alerted enough witnesses to prevent him from making a second attempt to silence the boy forever. I have taken the liberty to lock the Lannister twins in the old Tower for now. I think nobody knows they are there. The Queen is supposed to be on bedrest in her chambers with her handmaids and everyone here presumes the Kingslayer is with the hunting party. Now I can truthfully say I am very glad I was ordered to stay behind to guard your family, My Lord. I have seen to it that all your children, including Tommen and Myrcella are safe inside the castle. I do not think the smallfolk that came running when Arya screamed caught a glimpse of Ser Jaime and I ordered them in your name not to gossip about what happened to Bran. What shall we do now?”

Ned looked really pale and his eyes sought the ill-fated window of the old tower. “They are locked inside and the guards know what to do?”

“Yes, my Lord. Both the door upstairs and the main entrance are barricaded. I have two loyal men standing guard outside.” He looked at his Lord expecting further orders.

“You handled that well. The situation out here seems under control. Now I need to talk to my wife and see my children first. Get someone to fetch Brienne of Tarth and Loras Tyrell, neither of them joined the hunt and will be close by. I want to see to them as soon as I have spoken with my wife. Ask Lord Umber to help us later today. He brought enough men and we may need them to help us counter possible revolts of the Kingsguards and the other royal guards when they return and somehow get wind of what happened here. You can explain the entire situation to the Greatjon but ask him to be discreet for now. Tell him I especially requested his help. Do you happen to know where Lord Tyrion Lannister is? He did not join the hunt either. If you find him, keep him away from the old tower by all means. On second thought, as soon as I have time, I will want to speak to him as well. So bring him to my solar. And Cassel, thanks. You have once more proven you are my right hand man. I will not forget this.”

Lord Stark didn’t wait to see Cassel’s reaction and went in search of his wife. She had just left the children in the nursery under the care and supervision of their nanny and had ordered two houseguards to guard the room. She looked relieved to see her husband and followed him to their bedroom.

“What a mess, Catelyn.” He exclaimed as soon as the door was firmly closed. “This was not how we planned to expose the royal children. It is way too early. Dammit, why was Bran even up there? Didn’t I tell you of the premonition? He was not allowed to climb as long as the King was staying with us.” He admonished her with a disapproving scowl on his face. He paused trying to calm his mind. This was not the time for casting the blame. He should focus his energy on finding a solution for now. He took a few deep breaths. When he felt he could be civil once more he continued interrogating his wife.  
“Where are Tommen and Myrcella? What do they know about what happened? We need to keep them safe from King Robert’s wrath. Best get them to the room with Prince Renly or do you have a better idea?”

Catelyn wrung her hands. “They do not know what happened. They only know Bran almost fell and was really upset about it. I am very sure they have neither heard nor seen anything. We must not scare them. Why not keep them in my quarters? They will be more comfortable here than in that little room with Prince Renly. Nobody will suspect that they are staying in my private quarters. I can sleep in your room tonight.”

“That is a possibility. Let me think on that some more. I plan on involving Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell. They can help guard the royal children. They are both honourable to a fault and will want to safeguard these innocent children. If we clearly show them that we are the ones trying to prevent the royal entourage from punishing three innocent children, we are one step closer to assure their alliance to our cause. Unless you think they will not be sympathetic to the plight of exposed royal bastards?”

“Lady Brienne will choose to protect them without a doubt. She has more honour in her little toe than the average knight in his entire body. She will respect you even more for wanting to safeguard Tommen and Myrcella. And Loras Tyrell, well as long as you help Prince Renly, that boy will worship the ground you walk on.”  
She heard a sound coming from the window and got a bit nervous. “Can I go now and bring the royal children here before someone belonging to the hunting party gets curious about the reason you left and sends a scout? I’ll do my best to make them comfortable and keep them away from the gossip.” 

“Okay, you can bring them here. I will make sure to keep the King as calm as possible. The Gods know how.” He left the room and called for Cassel. “Did you find the lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell?” Seeing his master at arms nod he continued. “Ask them to come to my solar. Tell them it is urgent. I also want you to come and get me the moment the King enters the courtyard. No matter what orders the King might issue, you will come here first. Do you understand? See to it that ample guards are posted around the old tower but make them blend into the environment somehow. Do you have enough men to handle all that?”

“Yes my Lord. Consider it done.”

 

Ned took a moment to think about the possible repercussions to Jon and his cause now that probably both Ser Jaime and Prince Renly were headed for the Wall where they all knew by now about the existence of two real life fire breathing dragons. He startled when he heard a knock at the door. He gave permission to enter and invited Lady Brienne of Tarth and Loras Tyrell to sit down.

Loras didn’t hesitate and used this opportunity to thank him once more for what he had done for Renly. Ned just acknowledged his words with a nod and addressed both of them.  
“Where have you both been today? Have you been outside?”

He was astonished to see a blush appear on both their faces.  
“We visited Prince Renly just now, my Lord.” Lady Brienne replied honestly. “The guard assured me we had your permission and Loras took advantage of the fact that the King didn’t allow him to join the hunt and was with him the entire time. I joined him as soon as all the children were safely inside. Please let me express my thanks to you as well.” 

“You have not heard what exactly happened outside earlier today then?” Ned ignored her thanks, impatient to get to the point and have this issue handled. He still needed to have a long talk with Lord Tyrion before the King returned.

“Lady Brienne told me Bran was upset about some kind of accident but nobody got hurt.” Loras Tyrell was quick to answer and Lady Brienne nodded silently a curious look appearing in her eyes now that the strange behaviour of Lady Catelyn earlier took on more importance combined with this strange summons by the Lord of Winterfell.

“Well, something happened and I need your help. I need your word of honour that you will do as I tell you and if somebody else would contradict my orders you will not act upon them until you have taken it up with me first. Not even King Robert can overrule them. Do you understand? " 

“You will not ask anything that might bring us dishonour?” Lady Brienne would not sacrifice her integrity.

“Quite the opposite actually. I want to ask you to perform a most honourable task. I need your help to protect the lives of innocent children.” He then proceeded to explain exactly what had happened and what he needed them to do.”

“Why us, my Lord?”

“Just in case King Robert does not heed my words and tries to harm Cersei’s children. He will not suspect you of guarding them. He will follow my houseguards and my family members.”

“Why would you believe the King would harm these three children when the culprits are locked up already?”

“He’s done it before when he condoned the brutal murder of the Targaryen royal children.” Ned couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He realised he had betrayed himself when he saw their stricken faces.

“My Lord Stark?” Brienne looked perplexed.

“I’m sorry. I am just overcome by the situation. I am the father of five children whom I love dearly. I cannot stand to let a child suffer for things they have no control over. Even if that means I have to disobey my King should he try to harm Queen Cersei’s illegitimate children in a first fit of temper.” He chastised himself for slipping out of his role. 

“Your honour is praised throughout the Seven Kingdoms, my Lord. Now I understand why. I will serve you without question the next time you have a task for me.” Lady Brienne solemnly pledged.

_‘You can only do right by one King and if you are not confused where your loyalties lie, then your path and conscience are clear.’_ Ned repeated the mantra in his head once more. If only Jon could stake his claim already. Ned was getting tired of this mummery.

When the pair left to attend to their new duties, Cassel led Tyrion Lannister to his Lord’s solar. He had found the dwarf in Winterfell’s library, engrossed in a thick book, a cup filled to the brim with wine and a half empty pitcher next to him.

Ned sighed and steeled himself for a delicate negotiation. “Sit down Lord Tyrion. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

***

 

“I’ll have his head. I’ll have her head. Dammit Ned, Varys told me there were rumours but a man doesn’t want to believe something like that. What do I do now? Where do I go from here? I’ll be the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Ned had convinced the King to discuss the situation in the privacy of the chambers Robert had been assigned for the duration of his visit. Before he started to explain the situation to him, he had made sure that the King was comfortably seated on his bed and he had been plying the man with ale the entire time they were talking. It had been dark outside already when the royal party finally returned from the hunt. The King had been in a bad mood because they hadn’t shot anything significant after his friend had left them never to return to the hunting party again.

“Do not decide anything hasty, your Grace, Robert I mean. Let’s think on this and look at all the options and repercussions. If you want, I will give you my best advice tomorrow when I have had time to look at all the angles.” Ned filled the King’s cup once more and tried to get him to retire. 

“I do not want to lay eyes on the bitch ever again. The whore can burn in hell for all I care and take her incestuous spawn with her. What a mess Ned. Why did Lyanna have to die? I would have had such beautiful black haired children with her. The King was sobbing openly now. Ned had tried to get him so drunk so he would doze off but apparently years of drinking had made the man highly resistant to alcohol. Although the King had drunk an awful lot, he still wasn’t intoxicated enough to be rendered unconscious.

“Get some rest your Grace. I will have a solution for you in the morning, one that will not make you a laughingstock. Do not forget you are their King. You control their fate. People will still kneel for you and follow your orders. And nothing will prevent you from taking a new wife and having lots of legitimate heirs. Just let me handle it. I am your Hand. It is my duty.”

“What would I do without you, Ned? I am glad you are here with me and not old stern Lord Arryn who would have somehow made me believe that this was all my doing. You should have come to King’s Landing to rule beside me years ago. All right, I will listen to you for now and get some rest. My head feels like bursting anyway. And I will hear your proposals tomorrow but mind you, I will make the final decision. You are too soft-hearted sometimes, Ned. A ruler must be ruthless at times.”

“I’ll consider that when I formulate possible solutions, Robert. Now get some rest.”

The King finally complied and was asleep almost before his head had touched the furs. Ned contemplated the inert body. Where had it all gone wrong? What had happened to the exuberant child that grew up alongside him at the Eyrie? How could that kind boy have become this lazy corpulent drunk that only cared about his own pleasures and did not give a damn about the lives of his subjects? Robert hadn’t even once enquired after the well-being of Benjen Stark or any of the Lords of the North that fought beside him on more than one occasion. This last thought somewhat eased the knot that was prominently present in his stomach since he had accepted the position as Hand of King Robert.

 

***

 

The next morning not many people were present in the Great Hall to break their fast. The Queen had been brought to her chambers late last night and was a virtual prisoner there. They had decided to keep Jaime Lannister locked up in the old tower for now. The King was still sleeping. Lord Stark had barely slept and was already at work. He needed to put everything in place for the contingency plan he had devised with Tyrion Lannister yesterday afternoon. 

Lady Brienne was present in the great hall, breaking her fast in company of Sansa and Arya. Robb Stark and Edric Dayne sat at the same table facing them. She had excused the absence of Loras Tyrell stating that Lord Eddard Stark had given him an early assignment. Suddenly there was some commotion at the door and Prince Joffrey burst into the room. The two Stark houseguards that had wanted to keep him from entering shot Robb an apologetic look. 

“Where is my father?” he shouted. “I need to speak to the King at once on business that cannot be delayed. Where is he?”

Robb slowly rose from his chair and addressed the Prince. “Prince Joffrey, the King has not left his chambers yet. We suppose he will break his fast in his room. The Kingsguard can inform you when he is willing to allow you an audience.” Robb was surprised that Prince Joffrey was free to roam the castle. Late Last night his father had come to his room and had told him what had happened. Robb was sure his father had mentioned that the Lannister twins and the royal children were under guard. Perhaps his father had forgotten to assign guards to the former Crown Prince when the latter returned from the hunt.

Prince Joffrey studied everyone seated at the head table with barely concealed disdain. Then he turned around and left without uttering another word. 

 

***

 

“Lord Stark, you are needed in the King’s chambers at once.” Ned looked up to see a distressed Ser Arys Oakheart standing in the doorway of his solar. He immediately rose from is chair and circled his desk. “Gods, Ser Arys, what has happened. Is the King all right?”

 

“He is, Lord Hand, but in great need of advice. Please follow me.” Ser Arys looked really pale and Ned was certain something grave had happened. He surmised he would not learn what it was before he heard it from the King himself. He prayed that Tommen and Myrcella were still safe in his wife’s room and hurried after the Kingsguard to the King’s quarters.

The first thing his eyes noticed was a body covered by a white cloth on the ground next to the King’s bed. The single red stain on the otherwise pristine material was growing larger under his stare. He noticed Ser Meryn was not wearing his white cloak. King Robert was standing at the other side of the room. Two servants were helping him dress as if it was just a normal day. Ned cleared his throat. “Your Grace?”

“Ah Ned, you’re here. Now you will see what I mean when I say leniency gets you nowhere. He gestured to the corpse on the ground. That bitch’s spawn tried to murder me in my sleep. Show it to him, Ser Meryn.”  
The knight stepped closer and handed Ned a tiny scroll. It was a message from Cersei. It stated that King Robert was planning to declare her a traitor and would disinherit Joffrey, perhaps even have him murdered. She urged her son to kill the King without delay and claim the throne for himself before his father could give the order.

Ned looked at the body. “This is Prince Joffrey? Is he dead?”

“That was the assassin Joffrey Waters.” The King corrected his Hand’s statement. “Ser Meryn saved my life by stabbing him in the back. We shouldn’t have delayed, Ned. We need to punish the culprits now before the Lannisters revolt. They won’t stay ignorant for long now that the twins as well as the Crown Prince will be missing.”

Ned instructed the Kingsguard to remove the body from the room. “For now, just put his body in the antechamber. We will bring him to his own room and summon the Maester when we’ve debated how to handle the situation.” Ser Meryn and Ser Arys needed no further encouragement. They lifted the body, keeping it covered with the white cloak.

The King watched with cold emotionless eyes as his wife’s bastard was carried away. “What miraculous solution have you come up with to rescue my reputation and punish the culprits?” His voice was icy calm.

“Your Grace, let me start by apologising for not putting sufficient guards on Joffrey Waters. I will find out how he was able to leave his chambers.”

The King waved his words away, impatient to hear how his Hand would make this all go away. “Never mind that now, I want to hear your solutions.”

Ned took a deep breath and hoped to get his tone just right, not too pleading, but no too commanding either. It would have to be the King’s decision.  
“First I will tell you the story we will spread throughout the realm and next what I propose what we can really do. Will you try to stay patient enough and listen until I have finished explaining?” 

The King stayed silent but his entire demeanour warned Ned he best got on with it.  
“We will tell the realm that Prince Joffrey has fallen ill and died. It appears he suffered from the same hereditary affliction as his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister. Since there is a distinct possibility that the Queen’s other children also carry the disease, you have discussed this tragic discovery with your wife. For the good of the realm, Queen Cersei has agreed to the immediate annulment of your marriage and the removal of her children from the line of the succession. You will take a new Queen who can bare you several healthy children as soon as the High Septon has granted you an annulment.”

Ned had only slightly adapted the story he had devised late last night. He had intended Cersei to be the one inflicted by the imaginary disease. He studied the King and saw him struggle to keep his composure. A myriad of emotions flittered across the man’s face. At first the King seemed intrigued but this soon changed to frustration and now he just looked angry.

“Too lenient, Ned. I warned you dammit! Is that all you can come up with?” He frowned.

“This is just the story we will present to the realm, your Grace.” Ned tried to stay calm. “That way you will not be known as the King who was cuckolded. It is an acceptable reason to annul your marriage without delay. I suggest we imprison Cersei Lannister on Bear Island. That is the most northern island on the west coast of my Kingdom. You surely recall it is ruled by Lady Mormont. There is no way the former Queen can charm her way out of there. The Mormonts are my most loyal subjects. The island is isolated and cold and very far from the Crownlands. She will be afforded only the barest necessities. It will be a harsh punishment for her, your Grace.”

He took a deep breath and addressed the most delicate issue. “I have taken the liberty to discuss the children’s fate with Tyrion Lannister yesterday evening. He is prepared to take them with him to Casterly Rock. They relinquish the Baratheon name of course and sign away all rights to the Iron Throne. In exchange for their lives, Lord Tyrion vows he will not allow them to leave the Rock unless a royal decree lifts this banishment. If you agree to this, he will forfeit every loan Tywin Lannister has offered the Crown. He will leave for the Rock as soon as you permit it.”

King Robert’s frown had only grown deeper while Ned talked. “That story you’ve woven lets her fucking twin brother of the hook. Unacceptable Ned!”

“You can punish him for treason, your Grace. Pretend you gave him a trial behind closed doors and condemn him to the Wall. A King doesn’t need to provide more details. The situation at the Wall is very dire. Every support is welcomed. I know the Lord Commander personally and will ask him not to allow Jaime Lannister any privileges. I will make sure that he is assigned to the rangers and will be on the front lines of every mission beyond the Wall. On the off chance that he survives the next few years, he will lead a very harsh life, your Grace.”

“I will think on it Ned. I still feel they are getting away too easily.” 

“Not necessarily, Robert. What would you choose if you were Cersei? A quick death or being kept alive against your will isolated in the North, separated from your children and stripped of all power and wealth. She has been pampered all her life. The same goes for Ser Jaime, except he will have the possibility to get himself killed at the first opportunity beyond the Wall if he can’t cope with his harsh punishment.” Ned did his best to convince his former friend.

“As I said, I will think on it. The removal of the incestuous bastards from the line of succession must be ironclad, Ned. It can’t contain any loopholes.”

“The moment your marriage is annulled, their claim is null and void. The written statement is only to support our story that they relinquish their right voluntarily. But I will do as you order and present my draft to my maester and have it checked later on by the Grand Maester as well.  
I will make sure they will never be the ones to threaten your reign, Robert.” Ned silently repeated his mantra once more in his head. If anyone had mentioned to him eighteen years ago how duplicitous he would become, he would have challenged the man to a duel for such an enormous insult.

“I will want to read it as well. That doesn’t mean I have decided to accept your solution, mind you. Where are the little bastards now?” Robert’s recalcitrant tone interrupted Ned’s musings.

“Tommen and Myrcella are safe and in the custody of Lord Tyrion. I will not apologise for taking steps to protect them, Robert. You knew my feelings regarding a similar situation and made me your Hand regardless. If you were thinking this favour you’ve shown me would change my disposition toward innocent children and are disappointed that this is not the case, I am willing to resign as your Hand this instant. Tommen and Myrcella are not to blame for anything. I will not let any harm come to them if I can help it.” He kept his voice firm so Robert would understand that there was no chance he would ever relent. He was glad he had finished the last travel arrangements before he had been summoned by Robert. At the slightest hint of danger, Lord Tyrion was ready to abscond with his niece and nephew.

“You did not answer my question, Ned. Where are they?” The King tried once more.

“Safe for now, your Grace. They will not show their faces and are under guard. I will not tell you more. As soon as Lord Tyrion has signed the necessary papers they will disappear from Winterfell without anyone noticing. With your leave, I will ask Lord Tyrion to take the body of his deceased nephew with him. Let it be his responsibility to dispose of the body in any way he wants.” 

“What a bloody mess.” The King sighed and let the subject drop for now. “The situation at the Wall is dire, you say? How is that possible? The reports I read only mention more recruits and plenty of funds for reinforcements.”

“They also mention the Wildlings are settling closer to the Wall and number over a hundred thousand strong. Not to mention the fact that rangers of the Night’s Watch keep disappearing.”

King Robert hardly let him finish his last sentence. He was eager to discuss a new topic. “Who can I marry? Do you have any candidates lined up? I will enjoy making new heirs.” The glee was apparent on his face. Ned hid his disgust and hoped Jon would make his move before the King had the time to remarry.

“Once the realm hears of your annulment you will be the most eligible bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms once again, Robert. Offers for betrothals will abound. It would be wise to wait and to see what they will offer you in exchange. You could gain a beautiful young wife and an exorbitant dowry in one fell swoop. I’ll draft you an initial list of candidates soon. But bear in mind that I could overlook someone important. I fear I do not know every candidate in the South and would put too many northern ladies on it. So I repeat my advice to give the noble houses of Westeros a chance to dangle their most beautiful maidens and dowries in front of you. It would be unseemly to publicly search for a wife before the annulment is granted anyway.”

“And the Lannisters will not call in their loans?” King Robert was now focusing on the advantages of his current predicament.

“I have Lord Tyrion’s word of honour and also his signature as head of House Lannister.” Ned promised. It looked more and more likely that Lord Tyrion wouldn’t have to steal away like a thief in the night and that the children would remain safe.  
Their conversation was interrupted by an urgent knock. Ned walked to the door to check who dared to go against standing orders of the King and disturb them.  
“Lord Hand, Winterfell’s Master at Arms informs us of the imminent arrival of Lord Willas of House Tyrell.” Ser Arys informed him

“He comes for his brother, Loras,” Ned stated the obvious to King Robert as soon as he closed the door. “What will you decide, my King? I would prefer to keep Loras in the North for now. That gives you leverage against lady Olenna. Surely you know from past experiences that you need every advantage to keep her from dictating the way you should run the Seven Kingdoms.”  
Ned was at a loss. How could he prevent the King from offering for Lady Margaery? That would most certainly harm Jon’s cause substantially. They had been so sure that they were on the brink of bringing the Reach into the fold. 

“I hate to refuse him in open Court. What a mess, Ned. Can you deal with it?” Robert Baratheon looked up trusting his new Hand to make this issue go away as well.

“I will simply prevent him from petitioning you in open Court. I’ll see to it, Robert. I will promise to hear him out in private and intimidate him by stating that ambushing you before the Court will only force your hand since you are still doubting his innocence.” 

“Handle it, Ned. And then prepare everything for our journey back to King’s Landing. I won’t stay here a day longer than absolutely necessary.

 

“I can make arrangements to travel to White Harbour and sail to King’s Landing from there, your Grace. That will shorten the journey substantially and make it more comfortable for you at the same time. You will not be slowed down by a big wheelhouse this time. We’ll use that to convey Cersei north.”

“That’s the first idea I really like, Ned. How soon can we leave?

“The day after tomorrow. I need to get a ship commissioned and fitted out to cater to a royal entourage.” He watched King Robert relax. 

“That sounds reasonable. You will send me some female company to help me endure my last two nights in the North?”

“I’ll delegate that responsibility to your servants, your Grace but will be sure to point them to the right establishment. If I may be excused? I have a lot of arrangements to make.” Ned bowed and left the room in a hurry.

 

***

 

Lord Willas Tyrell received a warm welcome from the lady of Winterfell. She presented her children to him and Willas couldn’t miss her calculating eyes studying his reaction to her eldest daughter. Sansa was a beauty but still so young. He remembered his grandmother’s wishes and gallantly greeted her by kissing her hand. Her reaction seemed a bit off though. Now that he thought on it, the children all seemed pale and silent. Well his grandmother had warned him it was dreary in the North.

He accepted Robb Stark’s proposal to look for his brother in the training yard and listened to Robb Stark telling him what a great friend his brother had become. Loras was indeed at the training yard. He was sparring with someone whose looks betrayed that he was not a northerner. He guessed it was someone from the royal entourage.  
Loras greeted him warmly but expressed his surprise at his brother’s arrival. Then he introduced his brother to Edric Dayne the heir of Starfall. It astounded Willas that his brother had not only developed a close friendship to the heir of Winterfell but also to a Dayne. He wondered how his grandmother would receive this news. 

After the obligatory courtesies were exchanged, he quickly excused himself and his brother to Robb Stark and took Loras to a remote spot where they could talk in private. Loras gave him a brief summary of the events of the day before. His brother had gotten pale and inquired after the fate of the two remaining children of Cersei Lannister. 

Loras remembering that Willas once had a crush on Myrcella reassured his brother immediately. “Lord Eddard Stark is looking out for them, Willas. You can trust his honour. If necessary, so he told me personally, he will go against his King’s orders. He cannot condone the suffering of innocent children. However he could do nothing to prevent the King from stripping Tommen and Myrcella of their titles and their place in the succession. The King will proclaim them illegitimate as soon as the royal marriage is annulled by the High Septon. He trusts me not to spread this story, so please keep this to yourself. They have fabricated some nonsense about a hereditary affliction.”

Willas immediately realised the repercussions. “Grandmother will surely” A small smile broke on Loras’ face when he joined his voice to his brother’s and they finished the sentence together. “want King Robert to marry our sister.”  
His mood sobered however when he heard his brother had travelled all this way because Grandmother had ordered Willas to fetch him home. Loras had no intention of leaving Renly behind. He grew nervous and informed his brother in a halting manner of Prince Renly’s presence at Winterfell. 

Willas expressed his empathy for his brother’s plight but urged him to be cautious all the same. Now he understood why Loras seemed so a happy at Winterfell as well as the friendships he had developed here. He only wondered how his brother would convince their grandmother to let him stay in the North. Lady Olenna wanted him home sooner rather than later. Willas decided he would hold off on writing home for another day. He needed to gather more information on the ambitions of House Stark before he let her overreact to the news of King Robert’s search for a new Queen.

No wonder Lady Sansa and her siblings had hardly reacted to his presence earlier. Their brother had nearly been murdered yesterday. 

 

***

 

The last evening of the royal party’s stay at Winterfell a modest feast had been organised. The Lannisters were noticeably absent. Lord Tyrion had already left with Myrcella and Tommen. They would make the long trip to Casterly Rock over land and were accompanied by the entire Lannister retinue that had formerly been a part or the royal entourage. Eddard Stark had promised Robert to replace these men with Stark guards. He didn’t betray to King Robert how he had taken every precaution to assure that Tyrion Lannister would be granted safe passage through the Neck and the Riverlands by giving him a small northern escort to ease their way through the northern villages. He also didn’t tell him of all the other things he had discussed with Lord Tyrion to make him compliant enough to sign anything he had put before him. 

The Queen’s wheelhouse had left Winterfell in the middle of the night. Lord Umber had offered to escort Cersei Lannister to Bear Island. The Greatjon had split up his men. The other half would accompany Jaime Lannister and Renly Baratheon to the Wall. Earlier today Eddard Stark had sent a raven to the Lord Commander with detailed instructions. In the end the King had decided to follow his Hand’s advice without any further protestations. The man was already considering every fair maiden he knew of and was glad enough to leave the sordid details to his Hand.

Maester Luwin entered the great hall and whispered something in Lord’s ear. Ned excused himself to the King stating a problem had arisen and needed his immediate attention. He would probably not return until much later but he needed to leave now in order to ensure nothing disturbed their departure on the morrow. He softened the blow substantially by reminding Robert of the two female companions that were awaiting him in his room as soon as his Grace was ready to retire.

 

“What could possibly be so urgent that you asked me to leave King Robert for the rest of the evening? Not another royal scandal I hope?” Lord Stark asked as soon as they entered the corridor. He eyed his Maester with exasperation.

“My Lord, a raven landed on my shoulder.” A significant look accompanied his words and a tiny scroll was handed to Eddard Stark.”

Ned startled. “Jon is here? Why would he take such a risk knowing Robert is at Winterfell? Where? How? The message states _‘take a horse and follow the raven’_ , my Lord. You should leave now and go alone. I am sure it is not a trap. Who else but Jon could deliver a message in such a peculiar fashion?”

“I’ll leave immediately.” Ned accepted the cloak Maester Luwin handed him.

“I took the liberty of sending someone to fetch your horse for you. I’ll inform your lady wife and Lord Robb as well as soon as you are gone, my Lord.” The man bowed and went back to the Great Hall.

 

Ned followed the raven and was glad that the bird flew along a familiar path that circled around the exterior walls of the Godswood. It was getting rather dark and the clouds prevented the moon and the stars from providing extra light. Soon enough he saw Jon sitting against a tree. He scanned the environment but saw nobody else.  
Jon got up when he dismounted and he was surprised to see his nephew’s imposing posture. He remembered Robb mentioning the same to him. Well it fit with the impression his last letters had given him of the youth’s newly developed authority. His nephew was growing into a strong leader and started to look the part as well. He didn’t hesitate and hugged him. Ned was relieved to feel the young man returned his hug with alacrity. Apparently things hadn’t changed that much.

“Good to see you, Jon. Oh Gods, look at you. I am so proud of you. But why did you come here? Did anyone see you?”

“Do you know how fast I can get here on the back of my dragon?” Jon replied a smile on his face. “It was a cloudy night, Uncle. We flew above the clouds the entire way and only ventured below them to land here behind the Godswood. Nobody noticed a thing.” 

“I am glad to hear it. I was sorry to hear about Maester Aemon.”

Jon swallowed but didn’t offer any comment.

“Why did you come however?” Ned repeated his earlier question.

“I was at the Wall when your raven arrived, describing Bran’s attempted murder. The early discovery of the royal bastards can have severe repercussions. A lot has happened after Robb left me at Sea Dragon Point at our end as well and we’ve had to make some difficult decisions. Since I was such an easy distance from Winterfell, I concluded it would be easier if we could talk face to face. What’s more, Lord Reed urged me speak to you. He had another premonition. If we can bounce ideas of each other, we will accomplish more than sennights of exchanging messages ever could. Davos and I even fabricated a little list in order not to forget anything. Jon took out a tiny scroll. 

“Don’t you have a Hand to discuss all of that with?” Ned couldn’t prevent the remark from slipping out. 

Jon studied his uncle and exhaled deeply before responding. “Davos is always at my side, Uncle. You and I are in contact as much as we can but it often takes too long for your advice to reach me to still be timely or relevant when it arrives. I hope I do not need to repeat how much I appreciate all that you have done for me and how I look up to you as an example of a good leader.” Jon swallowed and continued. “I have taken the trouble to fly here to talk things over with you. Doesn’t that prove anything?” He scrutinized his uncle who although clearly moved by his nephew’s words stayed silent all the same. 

Jon made another effort to sway him. “Didn’t you read my letter? I wrote that if at any given time you decide you want to become my Hand and live by my side in King’s Landing, I will name you my Hand as well and will become known as the King who ruled with the assistance of two of the best Hands in the entire history of Westeros.” 

“I am sorry.” Lord Stark didn’t stall his answer any longer. “You were absolutely right in appointing Davos Seaworth and I am honoured you came all the way here to seek my advice.”

Clearly relieved, Jon asked his uncle to give a detailed account of the aftermath of Bran’s climb. He paled when he heard of the violent death of the former Crown Prince. He didn’t have time however to examine how he felt about that now. They needed to discuss the repercussions the presence of Jaime Lannister and Renly Baratheon at the Wall would have on their plans. When they had exhausted that subject Jon remarked with wry humour. “It will become crowded at the Wall. Did you know Prince Oberyn is on his way there as well?”

His face turned serious once more when he continued. “I was thinking of asking Prince Oberyn to return to Dorne. That or have him come up with another way to bring his brother into the fold. That last stunt of Prince Doran Martell, sending Prince Quentin Martell to Pentos doesn’t sit well with me. Besides, it is time, Uncle. We are making our move on Dragonstone.” He then told his uncle most of what had happened since Robb had left them. Uncle Benjen sends his greetings but you should have received a raven from him already.

Jon also elaborated on his temporary solution for the Free Folk without revealing anything about his turbulent stay at Castle Black. “I do not have the authority and we gather it is too early to convince the Lords of the North to offer the Free Folk sanctuary south of the Wall until the White Walker threat has been dealt with. I have ordered a large part of the fleets stationed at Bear Island and Skagos sail beyond the Wall. They can harbour the woman, children and everyone too weak to fight for a while.” He looked at his uncle. “I took these decision mere moments after seeing their predicament. I decided I could not wait to hear your opinion on the matter. I figured time was of the essence. The ships are already on their way. I contacted Lord Manderly directly. I hope you will understand.” 

“I think it is an excellent solution.” Ned reassured his nephew. “I pray that one day we can get the Free Folk and the Northerners to live together in peace but you are right. It is much too soon and you will need the Lords of the North on your side. Forcing them to accept Wildlings on their territory would have alienated them. I do not think I would have come up with that alternative as fast as you have.” He saw Jon’s face lose its apprehensive expression at the unexpected compliment.  
“What can you tell me about Lord Reed’s premonition?” Ned had been waiting for that to come up the entire time.

“What do you know of the situation at the Vale?” Jon reacted with a question of his own.

“Funny you should mention the Vale.” But his serious slightly guilty expression belied the lightness of his words. Ned proceeded to tell him of his wife’s correspondence with Littlefinger and the news he had inadvertently learned. “Littlefinger intends to become Lord of the Vale and even plans to make Lord Robin the next heir to the iron throne by marrying him to Shireen Baratheon. That way he will become Lord Regent.” He then informed Jon of his letters to Lord Royce and the man’s efforts to try and bring Robin Arryn under his protection. 

Jon looked thoughtful. He had not missed the unspoken question of his uncle. He astonished him however with his part of the news. “Littlefinger has almost instigated a war with Dorne by providing false information to the small council. King Robert has insulted Prince Doran and only Prince Oberyn’s timely intervention has defused the situation. Littlefinger believed rumours Varys and Oberyn successfully sabotaged as they set Baelish up for the fall.”

“What false rumours?” This was news to Ned.

“That the dragon that presumably attacked pirates over the Narrow Sea belongs to Dorne and the attack was a test run before they would target King’s Landing to revenge the death of Elia Martell and her children. But that is not all. Lord Reed knows that it was Lysa Arryn that killed her husband with poison handed to her by Littlefinger. He is not sure but he suspects that Lord Robin Arryn is actually Baelish’s bastard.”

“Poison? Do you know which one?” Ned asked

“Tears of Lys.” 

“Do you have any evidence to support this accusation?” 

“Prince Oberyn has described the exact symptoms and they match Lord Arryn’s ailments. Varys has gotten Maester Pycelle to confess a bottle went missing after a visit of Petyr Baelish but he hadn’t connected the dots before. It is time he retired.” Jon sighed. If the Citadel insists that a Maester’s position is for life, they should at least instate a new rule that after a certain age, they send a young Maester to assist him at first so he can slowly take over when his older colleagues is no longer capable. I am sorry. I have gotten off track. I think we have sufficient proof to condemn Littlefinger. Add that to the other indictments you already collected.” 

‘It will be my first order of business when I arrive at King’s Landing as Hand of the King. I will also be proclaiming Lord Royce as regent of the Vale until the time Lord Robin comes of age or you decide otherwise when you are King. I hope that meets with your approval.”

“It is the right thing to do. What about the Freys in the Riverlands? Do you think that situation will resolve itself by eliminating Littlefinger?”

“I’m not sure. Who knows whether he is the only mastermind of this situation? I will be grilling the small council at the first opportunity. For now I have sent a small contingency of men to the Riverlands. I hope that will send the message to the Freys that the Tullys are not without support.”

“I hope Robb has told you about the offer I got from Yara Greyjoy.” Jon proceeded to tell his uncle the details about their tentative alliance and the fact that Euron Greyjoy would be attacking somewhere south. “I have warned the Reach and Oldtown.” He concluded.

“Talking about the Reach,” Ned said. “I fear lady Olenna will no longer be persuaded to join your cause. She will surely try to marry her granddaughter to King Robert.”

Jon was silent for a while. Ned could almost see the wheels in his head turning. “What if we gambled a bit? You told me Willas Tyrell is also at Winterfell. You have the future of her house right there. I suggest we inform him about the three surviving Kingsguards of House Targaryen who are fostering a male heir with dragons.. We tell him what you did for Renly Baratheon, Loras Tyrell and the former royal children. We conclude by proposing a marriage alliance between your houses as further enticement and my assurance they can stay on as ruling house of the Reach.” Ned saw him look in the distance before continuing. “What if we talked to Loras as well?”

“While you’re at it, why not invite lady Brienne to your coming out party?” Ned said taken aback by the risky approach.

“Actually, that is not a bad idea.” Jon replied, “Although not simultaneously. I think I can get her on board easily if we have the support of both Tyrell brothers. In the event that Willas and Loras take King Robert’s side, well, they are at Winterfell and completely in your power.  
Just Imagine Uncle, if this succeeds, I can almost walk up the stairs of the Red Keep and seat myself on the iron throne without encountering any opposition.”

“You forget King Robert and his Court, Stannis Baratheon and all the bannermen of the Stormlands, The Westerlands with the Lannisters, The Ironborn. And the Reach can still turn around and betray our secrets or plan to blackmail this male Targaryen into marrying Lady Margaerry Tyrell.”

“I said almost, Uncle. The Lannisters will pose no problem. One good talk with Tyrion Lannister and he will stay neutral perhaps he might even be persuaded to support us. Stannis will stand alone. I do not see him align himself with the Ironborn. Did you know that Lord Reed has found a possible weakness? Allegedly, Lord Stannis has started to worship the Lord of Light. Lord Reed is sending someone his way to see if we can use this knowledge to our advantage. He will keep us informed as soon as they have made significant progress. I just think he enjoys being this mysterious greenseer. But I can’t fault him for that. He has helped our cause tremendously. As far as the Lady Olenna is concerned, she does not need to know that the male heir of House Targaryen is still single.”

Jon stopped his discourse to debate the issue of the Tyrells once more. “On second thought, I do not like to gamble with the Tyrells. They are loyal only to themselves. But could we not compromise. We could slowly try to get Lord Willas on board. Drop little hints and see how he reacts before we proceed any further.” 

Ned looked perplexed but Jon just continued. “The timing is tricky however. The royal party leaves Winterfell on the morrow.” Jon finally noticed his uncle’s expression. “What?”

“Do you always change your mind that quickly on important decisions like this? I do not know how to respond.” His uncle hesitated to say more.

“Uncle, I haven’t made up my mind yet on how to deal with the Tyrells. This is the way I usually work through my issues. I think aloud with my advisers listening and commenting. Sam calls it brainstorming. We bounce ideas of each other and only reach a final conclusion after we have looked at all angles. Davos often takes on the role of spoilsport and opposes or challenges every detail of my plans. That way we find the weak spots and adjust our strategy or come up with entirely new plans.”

“So help an old relative out then. One who is not familiar with your strange ways of developing strategies. Did we already reach a conclusion or are we still racking our brains? How in the Gods’ names do Davos and Ser Gerold keep up with you?” Ned complained but his eyes twinkled.

“Would you agree to let Robb bait Lord Willas a bit? See how he reacts to the rumours of dragons and the possibility of Targaryens returning? You cannot do it yourself since you are leaving on the morrow. It also gives us the possibility to deny everything should the Tyrell heir react badly at the first few hints. You as Warden of the North and Hand of the King could still laugh it all away claiming that your son has a vivid imagination and does not speak for House Stark yet.”

“I’ll speak to Robb and see how he feels about it.” Ned was glad his nephew had decided on a more subtle approach and had not insisted on going through with his his initial risky idea. 

“You know,” Jon continued unaware he was stepping into a hornet’s nest, “there is another solution. If you get Lady Olenna to sign off on a betrothal between Robb and lady Margaery, she would no longer have the option to catch King Robert as a bridegroom.”

“I have already opened up negotiations with Lord Manderly. His granddaughter Lady Wylla and Robb are friends and Lord Manderly has supported your cause almost from the beginning.” Lord Stark had stiffened slightly and watched Jon’s reaction closely.

“Strange,” Jon replied deep in thought. “Robb has not mentioned that to me. How does he feel about it?”

“He stalls,” Ned couldn’t keep the truth from his nephew. Robb had probably already sent a message to Jon’s entourage.

Now it was Jon’s turn to study his uncle. “I would understand your desire to arrange this betrothal if Robb really liked the girl. House Manderly is a rich and loyal House. Politically speaking though, it is not the best marriage. So if Robb stalls because he is not partial to the girl, why not be more ambitious and try for the beautiful unwed daughter of the lord Paramount of the Reach.”

“He only stated we needed your approval and that you might have other prospects in mind. He named several, Lady Margaery being one of them. Have you discussed this with him?”

“We spoke of the fact that you swore allegiance to me and that I might have some influence on the decision if ever he was forced to marry an ugly fat woman of House Frey. Nothing more specific was discussed. I am not sure what to say to you here, Uncle.” Jon seemed hesitant.

“Let’s table it for now then. I’ll stall Lord Manderly.” Ned relented. “But think on it. It is a good proposal.”

“Do you mind if I speak to Robb about this? I would like to hear his thoughts on both proposals. He knows he will have to marry for political reasons, but since he is the one that will be living with the girl for the rest of his live, I would like to hear his opinion on the subject before you and I make a decision. It will have to be by letter though. I need to concentrate on the threat beyond the Wall first.”

“I can get Robb here in no time, Jon. I would really like to resolve this matter with Lord Manderly.” Ned tried once more.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing Robb. Jon face lit up at the thought of seeing his cousin but his smile lasted only an instant. He wouldn’t do to give his uncle false hope. “Bear in mind that I can’t promise you that I can make such an important decision tonight, Uncle. Besides, Robb has not reached his eighteenth nameday yet. You do not have to marry him off right away. I would prefer to focus on the situation at the Wall first. I just brought up his possible betrothal to help keep Lady Olenna’s ambitions away from King Robert.”

“I understand, Jon. I only wish things could be different. I hate this mummery. I will be glad when everything is out in the open and I can be honest and straightforward again. I feel guilty every time King Robert praises me for being such a good friend. I had hoped that now that you are using the dragons and rumours have started, that it wouldn’t be long before you made your move and I could stop lying to everyone. You can’t expect me to be happy about your decision of changing your focus to situation at the Wall when we are so close to starting your bid for the throne.”

Jon realised his uncle was tired and knew by personal experience that problems always seemed larger when you were exhausted. “I am sorry, Uncle. I know you have by far the most difficult role and that it asks a lot of your mental strength. Once everything is resolved I will stress to everyone in Westeros how nobly you saved the life of the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Your honour will be loudly praised. Do not forget, history books are written by the victors. We will not allow King Robert or anyone else for that matter to smear your good name. I have even come up with a reward for you and the North.” Jon proceeded to tell his uncle how he saw the North’s role in this new world he would be creating.

Ned was speechless. He just stared at the sky and contemplated the unexpected path this one decision he had made seventeen year ago had taken him on and tried to imagine what was still to come. When he felt Jon shift beside him he came back to the present. He told Jon he was going to fetch Robb and would be back in not time. 

Jon stalled him however. “I still have a few things I would like to go over with you. But first, can you assure me you will heed Lord Reed’s other warning and not take your children to King’s Landing?” Jon asked his uncle.

Ned assured him he was leaving them all behind and added that his wife had given him a lot of grief over it these last few days. Then he encouraged Jon to get on with his next topic.

“I can’t help but think we should exploit the fact that I am helping the North out at the Wall to gain the recognition of the Lords of the North. The people at the Stony Shore have seen me in action and I am fairly certain they will support my claim if I ask for their help with your backing. Is there a possibility you could send representatives of the more important Northern Houses to the Wall to bear witness to what is really happening there? Only if they believe there really is a White Walker threat, will they be able to fully appreciate the lengths we all went through to protect the people of the North and the rest of the realm.”

“I’ll talk to them, or let Robb talk to them if I do not find the time before we depart on the morrow.” Ned sighed. “Is that it?”

“I had thought to tell you in detail how we are planning to invade Dragonstone but I can also send you the report.”

“Just give me a quick summary, mention only the things that weren’t mentioned in your last scroll.”  
Jon spoke quickly and Ned was glad that this one was a well thought out plan and would be carried out with minor upheaval. Finally Ned got up to fetch his son. It was getting rather late. He knew his wife would be growing anxious.

Lord Stark returned swiftly with Robb and allowed them some privacy. He saw both cousins embrace each other. It was evident they enjoyed a close bond. Jon and Robb sat down with their backs turned to Ned. Suddenly Greywind stormed onto the scene and toppled Jon. The young man just laughed and hugged the wolf talking softly to him. When Greywind had calmed down and settled himself at Robb’s feet, the boys resumed their talk. Ned waited patiently until they stood up and walked over to him. He met them halfway. It was Jon who broke the silence.

“No betrothal to House Manderly yet, Uncle. Let’s first wait and see what can be done to bring the Reach into the fold. There are other possibilities. Perhaps Lord Willas will offer for Sansa? We need to know more before you commit your heir. He is our biggest trump card.”

“No Jon,” his uncle replied the disappointment evident in his tone of voice. “You are. You do realise you risk becoming Lady Olenna’s prime target.”

“Then I will stall her as well.” Jon kept his voice firm. “Things will move fast. Just stall Lord Manderly a few moons”. He looked towards the clouded sky. “I hate to part from you with this awkward feeling lingering between us, Uncle.” Jon felt his uncle’s disappointment keenly.”

Ned made an effort and smiled. Jon was right. They should part on a better note. A pack had only one leader and needed to rally behind him if they were to succeed. He knew just the thing to lift everyone’s spirit. “Anyone here wants to hear about the origin of our inexhaustible war fund?”

“Are you finally ready to tell us, Uncle?” Jon replied fully conscious of the effort Lord Stark was making. He returned his smile and lightly touched his uncle’s arm to convey a silent thank you.

Ned’s smile grew more mysterious when he replied. “Only if you boys can keep a secret.” A bit later he enjoyed their looks of utter unbelief.

 

When his uncle started to take his leave Jon stalled him once more. Uncle, Robb just relayed something to me that Bran told him in confidence yesterday. It seems his direwolf helped him descend the Wall of the old tower safely. Bran described to his elder brother how Summer had talked to him in his mind. He claimed his wolf had calmed him down and had encouraged him step by step. You should talk to him since I can’t do it myself. There have been more instances where he and his wolf connected. Let Robb tell you the particulars. Perhaps you should consider fostering him out to Lord Reed for a few years. With the right tutoring Bran could become a powerful warg.”

Ned promised to take that in consideration. Then all three agreed that it was high time that Ned and Robb returned to their guest. Jon hugged Robb first and then turned to his uncle who initiated their embrace. “Thank you Uncle, for everything.” Ned felt his nephew’s words came from the bottom of his heart. He tightened the hug a bit accentuating their restored bond.

“Stay safe,” Ned said, reluctantly ending the hug.

“You as well, Uncle.” Jon took a few steps back, closed his eyes and called for Rhaegal. “Best keep your distance,’ he warned them. “And Robb, do keep Greywind in check.”

Ned would never forget the awe inspiring sight of Jon mounting Rhaegal and how gracefully both dragons ascended the sky to disappear from his sight only moments later when they reached the clouds. He often summoned this memory when he felt guilty during the journey south in the company of King Robert. It would only be when he reached King’s Landing and heard the rumours floating around, that he realised that Jon had not flown off in the direction of the Wall but had taken his dragons south.

 

***

 

Loras had said a tearful goodbye to Lord Renly. For all they knew, it could be several years before Renly would be allowed to leave the Wall. Robb urged him to keep faith, reminding him that his father was working on a solution. As Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark had the power to change things for the better in the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks had been nothing but amazing these past few days.  
Earlier when Robb had informed him that Lord Tyrion Lannister was about to leave, they had both petitioned Robb’s father to allow Prince Renly to say goodbye to the children he had loved as Niece and Nephew all these years. Lord Stark had immediately arranged for Tommen and Myrcella to pay a short visit to Renly’s room. Loras had seen to it that Willas happened to be calling on Prince Renly at the exact same time. His brother had not wasted the opportunity and had pressed a small scroll in Myrcella’s hand when he wished her a safe journey. The pale teary eyed girl’s cheeks had flushed with colour. She had quietly accepted the scroll and concealed it in her sleeves. 

 

***

 

Willas Tyrell had decided to stay on at Winterfell for a while longer since Loras refused to leave the North. Two sennights later, Willas cornered his brother in his room where Loras was changing his outfit before supper.

“I know you consider Robb Stark a friend but I am growing more suspicious of House Stark’s hidden motives.” When his brother darted him an astonished glance he tried to explain the reasons for his mistrust.

“It started the very day King Robert left. Do you recall how after supper he invited us to stay a little while longer and ordered more wine? The conversation started innocently enough but then he alluded to the lucrative trade deals between our regions the North had instigated. Over the next few days he dropped more hints. He mentioned the gardening techniques the North had shared with us that had increased productivity in the Reach, the recent warning of a possible Ironborn attack and some less important things.”

Loras had finished fastening the buttons of his tunic and lifted his head, his eyes silently mocking his brother.

“Try and think for once, Loras. I have replayed every conversation in my head and have not found a single encounter without the heir of Winterfell trying to point out how much the Reach needs the North.” 

Loras smile reached his eyes now. “Robb Stark is a good friend and House Stark is trustworthy, Willas. I am well aware that Robb Stark has a hidden agenda although he is not very good at hiding it from me.”

“If that is your way of reassuring me,” Frustration radiated from the elder Tyrell. He saw his brother’s smile grow even wider.

“Relax, Willas. When you are not around, Robb can’t stop asking questions about Margaery. He wants me to describe her looks, her personality and asks why she is not betrothed yet. It is rather obvious that Robb Stark has set his sights on our sister.” When he noticed his brother was not convinced he continued. “Willas, the Starks have helped me and Renly any way they could. Myrcella and Tommen owe their present comfort to Lord Stark, if not their lives. There is more at play here than you know.” Loras avoided eye contact with his brother now. He had a faraway look that made Willas even more worried.

Willas knitted his brows. “Loras, whatever do you mean?”

“I am sorry, brother. I vowed on my honour as a Tyrell not to reveal anything I discovered during my stay at Winterfell or during the trip across the Riverlands.”

Willas scrutinized his brother who just glared back not giving an inch. “Loras what have you done now? What did you vow exactly?”

“Not nearly as much as I swore to Edric Dayne after he found out where Renly was being kept and obtained Lord Stark’s permission for me to visit him as much as I wanted. I believe I literally promised him he could ask any service of me, anytime.”

“You do realise they can ask you to murder the King and you would be honour bound to do it?”

“Edric is my friend, Robb is my friend and Lord Stark literally told me we are all on the same side. I figure I can reveal you that much at least. Besides, my vow to Lord Stark released me from my vow to Edric Dayne sort of.” Loras crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Willas realised he would not get more out of his younger sibling for now.

“Just do not tell Grandmother any of this, Loras. She will not rest until you have told her every tiny discovery you have made since leaving King’s Landing. I am not happy about any of this but I will not force you to break a vow. That doesn’t mean that I will not try to find out what is going on by keeping my eyes and ears open.”

“I wish you luck, brother. But keep in mind that the Starks are not the enemy. If there is one thing I am sure of after all I have witnessed, that is it. Come on, I am hungry. Let us find the heir of Winterfell and tell him some more about the paragon that is our sister.” Loras put his arm around his brother and led him out of the room. 

 

***

 

After breaking their fast the next morning, Robb invited them to join him in the Godswood. Willas had not been allowed in there before. He was eager to follow his brother’s example and removed his boots so he could bathe his feet in the warm water of the famous hot springs. He should have known it was all just a ruse of Robb Stark to get them to relax and lower their guards.  
They had hardly finished some observations about the enchanting weirwood tree when Robb surprised them by changing the topic to the rumours concerning the dragons that were spotted in Westeros.

“Do you believe there is any truth to them?” Robb asked casually.

Willas saw through his innocent remark immediately. Loras’ so called friend was up to something. Only he didn't have the faintest idea what is was. Willas exchanged a look with Loras, while he contemplated whether it was safe to reveal part of his grandmother’s suspicions. “We do not know what to think. Some say the dragon belongs to the Targaryen Princess across the Narrow Sea.” He hedged.

“Wouldn’t it be something if that were true? I heard Princess Daenerys is supposed to be a rare beauty. Wasn’t your house loyal to the Targaryens?” Robb seemed glad Willas had mentioned the Targaryen Princess.

“Almost everyone in the Seven Kingdoms was loyal to House Targaryen at one time, House Stark as well.” Willas kept his face neutral but his stiff posture revealed he was on his guard.

“True, but doesn’t your house owe their current position of Lord Paramount solely to House Targaryen? Would you raise your banners for them if they asked for your support?”

Only the rustling of the leaves of the trees and the faint rippling of the hot water could be heard as Willas and Loras stayed silent. 

“What if I told you House Stark might consider an alliance with House Targaryen?” Robb tried once more to get a reaction out of both Tyrells.

“What? That’s impossible. Your father is Hand to King Robert. The entire realm knows what the King calls the Targaryen offspring.” Willas was even more wary of Robb Stark now. The boy had an agenda and it was not simply ingratiating himself with House Tyrell. It almost seemed as if he was trying to get them to expose themselves as traitors to the Crown so his father could call for their heads.

“You have my word as a Stark that whatever we talk about here in the Godswood stays between us and I only asked you hypothetically.” Robb reassured the elder Tyrell. “Perhaps I am just curious because I heard rumours that House Tyrell had opened up negotiations with the Targaryen Princess in Essos? Hypothetically speaking, we could one day find ourselves on the same side.”

Loras looked at Robb in a peculiar way. “Is this related to what I have seen in the Riverlands?” he ventured.

“It might be, but remember your oath. You will only be allowed to tell your brother if he swears the same oath in my presence.”

Willas looked at his brother with dismay. The boy had done nothing but swear vows lately. He turned his attention to Robb. Now it was his turn to throw Stark off balance. “If this is your way of courting our sister, you sure go about it in a strange fashion. 

Robb didn’t flinch but laughed away this last comment. “As if I am able to decide that for myself. No, I will have to marry for political reasons and my bride will be chosen for me. I am just intrigued by all the rumours of dragons lately. Did you know two were spotted here in the north at the Stony Shore?”  
Willas Tyrell did not react and a subtle gesture to his brother resulted in Loras staying silent as well.

Robb decided to give up for today. “Will we ask Lady Brienne to join us for a sparring session? I have been inactive for too long. I want to release some energy, before Maester Luwin summons me for some boring task I need to perform now that I am acting Lord of Winterfell.

Loras was quick to oblige him, and started to put his boots back on. Willas politely declined by mentioning his leg would not allow him to join their session. He retired to the library where he could strategize in peace. He had to find a way to get Loras to reveal under what circumstances he had given these vows and to repeat them to him word for word. Perhaps he should write a long letter to his grandmother after all. If anyone would be able to make sense of all this, it would be her.

 

On their way to the courtyard Loras and Robb startled Edric who was sitting on a bench next to Sansa. Robb had noticed them from afar. He had observed how Edric was listening intently to his sister the entire time it took them to approach. The couple did not notice their arrival until the others were already upon them. Sansa blushed while Edric jumped from the bench and joined his friends. Upon hearing their plans Sansa volunteered to go inside and fetch Lady Brienne. They were just about to tease Edric when the young Lord forestalled them by blaming his friends for leaving him alone. Edric complained he had looked all over for them. Robb diverted his attention by challenging Edric and Loras to a small competition. He had been winning more lately and boasted he could win against them both today. They spent an enjoyable morning together.

 

 

 

**Interlude 16: Useful allies**

 

**Part one: Greywater Watch**

For the first time in his life, Lord Reed doubted whether the Old Gods were the only Gods that mattered. Unexpected visitors had challenged his beliefs. His scouts had informed him that two men had already ventured half way through the swamps on their own. They described them as a Westerosi knight and a priest from Essos. Lord Reed had ordered his scouts to guide the two men the rest of the way to Greywater Watch and bring them to him. 

Howland Reed personally greeted his unexpected guests at the entrance of his keep. The men introduced themselves as Lord Beric of House Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven in the Stormlands and Thoros of Myr a red priest who lived in Westeros but had kept to his own faith and still worshipped the Lord of Light. Lord Reed had heard of both men. He remembered the priest was an experienced fighter. Ned Stark had told him of the man’s brave but reckless exploits during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He offered his visitors salt and bread while they were still standing outside in front of the hall. 

A bit later the three of them were safely ensconced behind closed doors in Lord Reed’s solar. The two travellers were staring as if transfixed into the fireplace around which they were all seated in cosy chairs strategically placed in a half circle. Lord Reed ignored their behaviour and came straight to the point.

“My Lords, can you oblige a surprised host and inform him of the purpose of your visit to his remote domain?” he started the conversation.

“The Lord of Light has sent us here to help your cause. “ Thoros of Myr proclaimed reluctantly shifting his eyes from the fire to his host. “Your Prince needs our help.”

“My Prince?” Lord Reed exclaimed not able to hide his shock. It was not often someone could catch him entirely off guard. It usually happened the other way around.

“The Prince Who Was Promised, he who will lead the fight against the Darkness. The Lord of Light has shown him to us in the fires. My God guided us through your swamps and kept us safe. This alone should convince you that we are speaking the truth.” Thoros of Myr told all of this in a flat tone of voice which was in stark contrast to the high pitched tone Lord Reed had just used during his short outburst. The priest didn’t need to raise his voice to get his meaning across. Absolute belief in the message of his God radiated from his entire being. 

“Do you know where to find this Prince?” Lord Reed was on high alert now. His Gods had not warned him of this strange visit. Did these strangers know of the existence of the Targaryen Prince? Were they even talking about Jon or was this Prince they mentioned someone entirely different? Somehow he didn’t believe that.

“He is where the Darkness grows and the snow never melts. Only he is worthy to take on the threat that lurks there. Rest assured. We are here to serve your Prince, not to harm him.” Thoros tried to reassure his host.

“He speaks the truth." Beric Dondarrion spoke up for the first time. “I’ve seen it in the flames as well. We came to warn you about the false Prince.”

“Beric, now you are scaring the poor man.” Thoros admonished his traveling companion. “We came to warn you that a red Priestess has singled out another as the Prince Who Was Promised. The deluded man believes her every word. He has already made a human sacrifice on her orders to please the Lord of Light. Her magic makes him stronger and he will become a threat to the cause of your Prince. If the red Priestess succeeds, the real Prince Who Was Promised may never fulfil his destiny.”

“So that is how you do not scare the man, is it?” Beric admonished the red Priest. 

“I am sorry,” Lord Reed interrupted the two bickering men, “why exactly are you telling me all this? 

“R’hllor, our Lord of Light acknowledges that you are guiding the real Prince. But the red Priestess’ magic shields the intentions of the false Prince from the Old Gods.” Thoros of Myr knew the existence of the Lord of Light would be a difficult thing to accept, especially to this man who had such a close relationship with his own Gods. And they needed Lord Reed not only to believe in His existence, they had to convince him that their Fire God and the Old Gods were on the same side for once.

And will you reveal the identity of this false Prince my Gods are unable to warn me about or do you enjoy speaking in riddles?” Howland Reed needed more information before he was willing to disclose anything himself.

Thoros of Myr on the other hand knew with absolute certainty that their purpose was to help the Prince who would save them all and was confident that they could safely reveal their sacred mission to this man. He signalled his companion that he should go ahead. 

Lord Dondarrion spoke up “The Red Priestess, Melisandre is it at Storm’s end and has Stannis Baratheon under her spell. The Lord of Light guided us here because you will need our assistance to deal with this situation. Will you now repay our trust and reveal the identity of the real Prince Who Was Promised to us?” Thoros leaned forward in his chair and stared firmly in the greenseers’ eyes to make his words more convincing.

“How do I know you are not looking for my so-called Prince to offer him up to your Lord of Light? Red priests burn their sacrifices, don’t they? If you presume rightly that I have protected him for this long, why would I risk him now?”

“You can trust us. I swear it upon my honour. It was the Lord of Light who guided us through your swamps because he realises your Prince, born of ice and fire is the only one who can bring the Dawn. Our God and your Gods have the same purpose. They are working together to save the realms of men from the danger that lurks behind the Wall.” Lord Dondarrion looked beseechingly at Howland Reed.

Lord Reed sighed. There was no doubt left in his mind. They were talking about the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. However he still wanted to try and contact his Gods before he went against the directives the Conspiracy had held onto for more than seventeen years.  
“If that is the case, let us drop this subject for now. I will consult the Old Gods tonight. You are of course welcome to stay the night. Even with your God’s guidance, it is too dangerous to navigate the swamps at night. And I am eager to finish our discussion tomorrow morning. I sincerely apologise for stalling you like this.” 

Not waiting for their reaction he pulled a chord and a crannogman appeared in the doorway. “This man will escort you to your rooms. As soon as you have refreshed yourselves, we will enjoy supper in my hall. My man will show you the way there as well. I hope you can tell me about your travels during our meal. I’d love to hear more about the Stormlands. You are the first visitors that we have received from that part of the realm.” Lord Reed had tabled the delicate topic for now.

“No talk of prophesies at the dinner table. I get it.” Lord Dondarrion promised and both men followed their appointed guide out. 

Lord Reed closed his eyes. _‘If this is how the others feel when I reveal my sometimes vague green dreams, I finally can commiserate with their frustration.'_ He fervently hoped that the Old Gods would be willing to provide him with their guidance tonight.

 

***

The next morning Lord Reed felt much better. Even though the Old Gods had not given him another premonition, they had been unequivocal in relaying to him that his guests were trustworthy. He was grateful now that they had come all the way to warn him about Stannis Baratheon posing a threat to his Prince’s cause. He did not disclose Jon’s true identity but told them that the one they called the Prince Who Was Promised went by the name of Jon Celtigar to hide his royal lineage for now and was currently at the Wall more specifically at Castle Black. He added that the Old Gods had proclaimed his Prince to be the shield that will guard the realms of men against the Long Night a long time ago.

Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion accepted his answer without blinking and enquired no further. The three men shared the belief that the Long Night and the Darkness were just different terms their Gods used to describe the same evil. The two travellers thanked Lord Reed for his hospitality and left immediately after breaking their fast. They were heading back to Storm’s End to further investigate the actions of the false Prince and his Red Priestess so they would learn how to stop them from endangering the realms of men with their deluded cause.

Lord Reed watched them disappear from his sight and hurried to his solar to prepare several messages. 

 

 

**Part two: The Vale of Arryn**

Lord Yohn Royce contemplated the scroll he had received from Winterfell. He knew way before he read the message from Lord Stark that the situation at the Vale was deteriorating. Ever since his last conversation with Lysa Arryn about fostering options for her son, the woman had isolated herself high up in the Eyrie and had cut off all communications with the other houses in the Vale. He feared for the wellbeing of Lord Arryn’s son, the future Warden of the Vale. The woman was unstable, if not mad outright and had totally hampered the development of her son. The nine year old boy still suckled at his mother’s breast, never left her side and had uncontrolled anger outbursts that were typical for a three year old.

The only thing that went up the mountain for now, were the donkeys guided by female servants loyal to Lady Arryn, carrying baskets with food and drink. The few servants and small retinue of guards that had been allowed to stay in her presence were virtual prisoners up there. She had sent all the others down a sennight ago. 

He wondered how he could get to the boy without bloodshed. The Eyrie was an impregnable fortress. As leader of the Vale’s forces, neither the Bloody Gate at the mouth of the Vale nor the two Moon Gates could hold him back. It would take him no more than two intimidating sentences to convince the guards to ignore Lady Arryn’s orders. It was the steep, narrow mountain path, the only way to reach the Eyrie that took most of the day to climb that presented the problem. He feared the guards high up the mountain under direct orders of Lysa Arryn would attack any approaching party by dropping rocks, boulders or even oil to light them on fire.. Strategically positioned archers were a danger as well. Unless he could figure out a way to get these guards on his side, it would be mere suicide to start the long ascend along the narrow mountain path where a man needed all his concentration not to take a false step and fall to his death. 

He had thought of tampering with the daily shipments of ale and wine by adding a touch of the shade of night to it to drug the remaining adults in the Eyrie. There were however two big issues with that plan. First of all it would risk the already precarious health of Robin Arryn since you could not be sure what Lysa permitted the boy to drink. But also the plan was not full proof plan since one could not be certain that the guards would all receive their drinks at the same time. The drug would only keep them asleep for part of the day.

The message from the Lord of Winterfell had convinced him to take the only action he could come up with for now. He had dispatched some of his finest archers to a mountaintop situated between the Giant’s Lance on which top the Eyrie was situated and King’s Landing. If they could shoot down the ravens that flew to and from the capital, they could stop Peter Baelish from further poisoning the mind of Lady Arryn. If the treasonous coward really wanted to marry her, become Lord of the Vale and conspire to put Robin Arryn on the Iron Throne, he would have to come up to the Vale himself to convince her. And when he did, Lord Royce would be waiting for him.

Meanwhile he still needed to think of a way to infiltrate the Eyrie. The only plan he had in motion was his search for a female servant, someone not only indubitably loyal to him but also willing to take the risk. She would be tasked to get subtle messages to the guards. These men were surely getting desperate. Not only were they isolated from friends and family, they were also obligated to obey the ridiculous orders of a paranoid woman who was growing more erratic by the day. He only needed to get a handful to cooperate with them. It could work. It would only take a while.

If not for the boy, he would just poison the murderous bitch and be done with it. If Eddard Stark wrote that Lysa Arryn and Littlefinger had conspired to murder the former Hand of the King who had been their highly respected Lord Paramount and Warden of the East for decades, Yohn Royce didn’t doubt that it was true. The bitch would have to die but he agreed with the constraint Lord Eddard Stark had insisted upon. By no means should they take any action that could potentially endanger young Robin Arryn.

The message ended with a vague warning not to turn away help should it arrive from the skies. As if Yohn Royce was in a position to turn away any help at this point. It was high time they eliminated that mad woman before she harmed herself and her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon needs to find sanctuary.  
> Prince Oberyn boasts about his accomplishments.
> 
>  


	17. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is in trouble and needs to find sanctuary.  
> Prince Oberyn meets Howland Reed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place right after the events of “Changing priorities” and will span the time before and during the royal visit at Winterfell. This means Jon’s interim visit to Winterfell from last chapter has not happened yet.
> 
> Bear with me and hopefully all will become clear. If not you can always contact me by leaving a comment. I will try to answer your questions without revealing important spoilers.  
> The interlude takes place in a very near future
> 
> I also have VERY GOOD NEWS. Ravenousreadr has agreed to become my beta. Not only is she a welcome help to avoid spelling and grammar errors, she is also a wonderful adviser and has a thorough knowledge and understanding of GRRM’s universe.  
> That said, I take full responsibility for any errors or plot-holes still in there since I am the one who created them in the first place.

Once more it was almost dark when Jon arrived at Castle Black without alerting the Night’s Watch to his mode of transportation. To his surprise the south gate opened before he had the chance to knock. Jon looked hesitant but relaxed when he saw it was Jaremy Rykker, the Master at Arms who let him in. Jon greeted the other guards with a nod and walked beside Rykker to the building where his great-great-uncle had his quarters.

“Thank you Ser Jaremy. I understand you got the message from Ser Gerold Hightower?”

“Yes my Prince. Can I say it is an honour to be singled out to guard you? You cannot possibly understand what it means to us Targaryen supporters to find out that a true son of our beloved Prince Rhaegar is alive and well and that the three missing Kingsguard survived. I hope one day I will witness you riding your dragon with my very own eyes. And please, just call me Rykker. At the Wall we relinquish our titles when we say our vows.”

“It is me who should thank you for your devotion to my family. I am sorry that you have been living in exile all these years because of it. Can you tell me who at Castle Black knows of my true identity?”

“Well the Lord Commander, Maester Aemon of course and I have taken the liberty to tell my friend Gylles Stokeworth. He was sent to the Wall the same day as me. We fought side by side at the Trident. We both have sworn in the presence of Maester Aemon that we will do anything we can to keep you safe while you are with us at the Wall. The Lord Commander has begrudgingly agreed to release us from our normal duties for the entire duration of your stay. After hearing the reports from the scouting party, he would be a fool not to realise that you are a powerful ally and it is not in the interest of the Night’s Watch to let something happen to you here.”

“It is still not clear to me what the other brothers of the Night’s Watch know about all of this exactly. You say only four people are aware of my true identity, but surely the scouting party must have informed them they received help from a person on a dragon?”

“I am told both your great-great-uncle and your Stark uncle will fill you in, my Prince. I think you will find them both in here.” Rykker opened the door and made room for Jon to enter the chamber where he had spent such a lot of time years before. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Rykker closed the door a soon as Jon had stepped inside.

Jon’s eyes were still adjusting to the faintly lit room when he got pulled into a tight embrace by his Uncle Benjen. “I’m so glad to see you are safe and sound, Uncle.” Jon told him whilst hugging him back. 

“No more than I am to be safe and still very much alive.” His uncle laughed. “Come and sit with us by the fire.”

Jon went to the armchair where is elderly uncle was resting with his eyes closed. Aemon Targaryen had lost even more weight and looked to be on death’s door. “Is he awake?” Jon asked.

“I’m sure he won’t mind that you wake him up if he isn’t.” His Stark uncle replied. “He asks after your whereabouts every time I dare to show my face in here. Apparently he still has something of great importance to relay to you. Go easy on him, Jon and don’t tire him out too much. I do not think he will live for much longer.” Benjen Stark’s look of concern was for his nephew though. He had witnessed all too often how the young man relished each letter from his great-great-uncle and lived by the man’s guidelines. Benjen had once overheard Jon talk to Sam about the duty and responsibilities of a dragonrider of House Targaryen and how he needed to abide by a strict moral code without going into the particulars. 

Jon dropped to his knees before his uncle’s chair. 

“Uncle Aemon?” Jon carefully touched his shoulder. Uncle Aemon?”

The old man stirred and opened one blind eye. Taking that as a sign of his uncle being conscious enough to understand him, Jon spoke gently to him once more. “It is me Aegon. I am back, Uncle. Shall we let you sleep and return tomorrow morning or do you prefer to talk to me now?” 

Jon saw his great-great-uncle make an effort to become fully awake. The wrinkled skin around his mouth became even more pronounced when the old man tried to speak. “Egg? Is that you? Can you bring me some water please?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Uncle Benjen?” Jon asked. “Would you be willing to leave us alone please? I know Uncle Aemon will greatly appreciate that. If you let me know where your quarters are then I will come to you after we are done talking here. Could you also enquire where I may sleep tonight please?” 

“Of course, Jon. I have a room in the west tower. Rykker will escort you there. I happen to know they have granted you the room next to mine. Take all the time you need here but do not forget that I really would like to see you before you retire.” Uncle Benjen had reached the door by the time he stopped talking. Jon nodded and exchanged a warm look with his uncle who smiled encouragingly before closing the door behind him. Jon filled a cup with water using the jug that stood on a table near the window and handed it to his great-great-uncle. 

The old man took a few small sips and smacked his lips. “I am glad you are here, Aegon.” His voice still cracked and he paused to take another sip. He cleared his throat and tried again. “When you did not come back with the scouting party and I heard you had returned to your ships, I despaired you would not visit me again in time. My days are numbered, my dearest Nephew. And I do not have the option to put the things I still have to tell you in writing.” His voice got weaker at the end of this little speech and he started to cough. 

“Here Uncle, take another sip and try to speak slowly. Are you sure you want to do this tonight? We have all the time in the world. I promise I won’t leave Castle Black before you have told me all you need to tell me. I’ll be here for several sennights.” Noticing how his uncle’s shaking hands had trouble bringing the cup to his lips without spilling anything, he helped him keep the cup upright and guided it to the elder man’s lips. He was getting worried. Up close his uncle looked even more gaunt and very weak.

“Nor can I dictate them to someone who is not entitled to know.” Maester Aemon continued as if there had been no interruption. “A Targaryen vows to disclose this knowledge only to the head of his house or to a kinsman who commands a dragon. You still lack crucial knowledge about the abilities of Targaryens and the procreation of dragons.” His uncle closed his eyes for a moment. He was breathing heavily. Apparently simply talking was enough to exhaust him in his current state.

“Other abilities, Uncle?” Jon asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He momentarily forgot his intention of urging his uncle once more to postpone their talk until morning. “Why didn’t you tell me of these before?

“During your first stay, you were still too young and a sennight ago you didn’t have the time.” Another bout of coughing racked Aemon Targaryen’s body. When the coughing subsided, his uncle’s shorts breaths were accompanied by a wheezing sound. 

“Perhaps you should rest a bit first, Uncle? Would it help if I asked the steward to prepare a cup of herbal tea?” Jon was getting really worried that his uncle was overextending himself. 

“Sit down Egg and listen, please. I will not rest until I have done my duty to our House.” 

Jon couldn’t miss the desperate note in his uncle’s voice. He wouldn’t press the issue any further. However, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Targaryen uncle had never summoned him to come to the Wall sooner if there were still such crucial things he should know about.

“Of course, Uncle Aemon. I am sitting really close to you. You do not have to speak up. I will hear everything you want to tell me.” He gently cradled his uncle’s wrinkled hand in his and decided to give his vow freely saving his uncle from having to ask it of him. “I, Aegon Targaryen solemnly vow that I will only disclose this information to my heir or to a Targaryen who controls a dragon.” 

His Uncle Aemon squeezed his hand in acknowledgement and started talking. Somehow the old man summoned the necessary strength to describe in detail how some Targaryens could use a certain substance to invoke greendreams. He warned his nephew that it was a hazardous and unpredictable enterprise that only adults in the prime of their life should attempt and even then solely when the future of their house was in peril. 

When Jon had assured his uncle that he had committed the instructions to memory and would mentally recite them at regular intervals so as not to forget the slightest detail, his uncle revealed to him how Targaryens could help their dragons to procreate. Jon had to make another vow to adhere to a strict moral code and to bring new dragons into the world only when certain criteria were met. His Targaryen uncle explained that King Jaehaerys, First of his Name, had created several rules to prevent their House from abusing the power of dragons. Jon had to repeat the exact wording of the rules several times until his uncle was satisfied he would remember them. Then he made Jon swear to uphold them at all times. As soon as Jon had sworn to faithfully adhere to the edicts of King Jaehaerys I, his uncle slumped back in his chair. Jon offered him the cup once more and encouraged him to take a few sips.

“I am really tired now, Aegon.” His uncle remarked as soon as Jon had put the cup down. “Can you call the steward to help put me to bed? I will see you in the morning. Do not worry, dear Nephew. I know that this night I will enjoy a good night’s sleep for I am at peace. Now that I have had the opportunity to officially pass the responsibility of our House on to you, a big burden has left my shoulders. House Targaryen will become a great House once more under your leadership, Aegon Targaryen. You will make our ancestors proud. Good night, dear Nephew.” His voice was no more than a faint whisper when he uttered this good night wish.

Jon reluctantly got up. For some reason he was hesitant to leave his uncle alone. His worried eyes were fixed on the emaciated body of his elderly relative. “Are you sure you want me to go, Uncle? Isn’t there anything else I can help you with before you retire?” 

“Don’t worry about me, Egg. I will feel better after I have rested. Just send the steward in. He is familiar with my needs and will take excellent care of me.”

“I’ll adhere to your wishes, Uncle. Send someone to fetch me when you are able to receive my visit again tomorrow. I would very much like to tell you of my recent deeds and look forward to receiving more of your wise advice. Sleep well.” Jon carefully applied a bit of pressure to his relative’s hand to mimic a goodbye gesture. Impulsively he leaned toward his uncle to kiss his wrinkled cheek and left the room with a heavy heart. 

He almost bumped into Jaremy Rykker who stood patiently at the other side of the door. Jon tried to force a small smile on his face. “Rykker, can you show me to Benjen Stark’s quarters in the west tower please?” 

“This way, my Prince.” The Master at Arms immediately complied with his request and headed toward the exit.

Jon followed him in silence, his thoughts still with his elderly relative. Jon had never seen a man grow so old or frail before. He prayed Aemon Targaryen would still be alive come morning.

 

***

 

Rykker showed him the room where his Uncle Benjen was waiting for him. Before opening it he pointed out another door a bit further along the dark corridor. “That door leads to your quarters, my Prince. 

“Thank you, Rykker. I really appreciate your vigilance. You may retire now. I will not leave the west tower before morning and Benjen Stark will accompany me to the common room then. You can meet us there and we can work out a schedule for the next few days.”

“As you wish, my Prince.” He bowed and left swiftly.

Jon knocked on the door of the room where Uncle Benjen waited for him. His uncle ushered him inside and immediately offered him a seat and some food. Noticing his nephew’s despondent attitude he raised his eyebrow. “Is something the matter, Jon?”

Jon sat down at the small table releasing a big sigh. “I am just worried about Uncle Aemon.”

“Was he able to tell you everything he needed?” Benjen poured a cup of ale and placed it next to Jon’s plate.

“Yes he was. At least his mind is at ease now.” Jon lifted the cup to his lips. An image of the cracked lips of Uncle Aemon flickered through his mind. 

Benjen pushed the untouched plate of food a bit closer to his nephew. “Come on, eat something. You will have a busy day tomorrow and will need all of your energy. Try not to worry about Maester Aemon. He has already lived much longer than most men. I know for a fact that your existence gave his life a new purpose and he has been far happier these last few years knowing another male Targaryen exists in the world. All men must die once, Jon. I know it is not a very comforting thing to hear right now but there is nothing we mere mortals can do about it.”

“Valar Morghulis,” Jon confirmed. “That is the customary greeting in Essos. It translates as ‘all men must die’.” He contemplated the food in front of him. “Still I will miss his guidance and his company when he leaves this world.” Jon picked up his fork and made an effort to eat some of the food.

His Stark uncle watched him slowly work through his plate and waited patiently until Jon finally pushed it away. Then he raised his cup and encouraged Jon to do the same. Together they toasted to the health of Maester Aemon Targaryen.

“You on the other hand look better, Uncle. As far as I can tell you have fully recovered from your ordeal. Can you tell me what behaviour I might expect from the Lord Commander and the other men of the Night’s Watch? Since you outed me as a Targaryen and Southern King to the Free Folk, I am anxious to know what you or Edd Tollet have revealed to the men here at the Wall?” Jon’s tone was slightly admonishing.

“Well Jon, can you blame a man for mistakenly thinking upon seeing you ride a dragon, that the secret is out?” His uncle pouted his lips, cocked his head to the left and blinked his eyes a few times mimicking some whore who had once tried to seduce him with this gesture.

Jon jaw shifted slightly as he watched the droll expression. Then he remembered his uncle’s answer hadn’t provided him with the requested information. “That still doesn’t tell me what I want to know. Am I Jon Celtigar an obscure Lord of the Driftmark with some accidental Valyrian blood or am I Aegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and rightful heir to the Iron throne.”

“Aren’t you both?” His uncle raised his cup and drank once more. It seems his uncle’s relief to be alive had momentarily transformed the sensible man into a poor jester.

Jon did not return his uncle’s toast. He ignored his own cup and focused on their discussion.

“Please Uncle, stop teasing. You know what I mean. Here at the Wall, can I still be Jon Celtigar or is the secret out?” He saw his uncle lose his mocking expression. A frown now creased his forehead.

“We are trying to keep your origins under wraps for now but I am sure some suspect. They know you are the one who saved me with the assistance of dragons. However, I have heard no rumours of you possibly being a trueborn Targaryen yet and Edd Tollet has vowed to keep your identity under wraps. Unfortunately being a dragonrider means you are a possible threat to the Crown regardless of who sired you. There is the lucky circumstance that no ravens leave the Wall without the knowledge of the Lord Commander. Nevertheless, the presence of dragons at the Wall will get out eventually, Jon.” 

His uncle shook his head a few times and then looked Jon straight in the eyes. “I am not the only one to blame though. You started all of it by using your dragons for all to see at the Stony Shore. Surely you realise that no matter how many rumours Varys and the others counter, King Robert will catch on eventually?”

Jon ignored these last few sentences still focussing on the issue at hand. “And the Free Folk? What are the chances they will call me Southern King during the negotiations or drop the word Targaryen?”

“I told Tormund Giantsbane that the Crows know neither your real name nor that you have a claim to the Iron Throne. I implied that we trust the Free Folk more than the Night’s Watch. I think that did the trick. At least I hope so. Besides that man will go to any length for you. It seems you made quite an impression on him.” 

When Jon stayed silent, Benjen stood up and raised his cup once more.

“To my dearest nephew who I thank from the bottom of my heart for his timely rescue and who I will always love as a son.” He drank deeply until his cup was empty.

This time Jon drank as well. When his finished his cup, he got up and embraced his uncle. 

“You are the closest thing I have to a father, Uncle.” He held on to his uncle for some time finding comfort in the knowledge that at least this relative was safe and healthy. His uncle seemed to understand Jon’s state of mind and left it to his nephew to decide when to end their hug. Finally Jon dropped his arms and took his seat again. He took the empty cup in his hand without realising what he was doing. His eyes stared into it with an absent look. 

“Did you know that as a twelve year old, I was extremely disappointed when you revealed to me we were family but you were not my father? Those first few nights I lay awake half of the night wishing I heard it wrong or tried to convince myself that you still kept the secret to protect me but that the real truth was that you were my actual birth father and everyone who said otherwise was helping you keep the secret for some obscure reason or other.” Jon felt tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked a few times and swallowed. 

Benjen studied his dearest relative who was still fidgeting with the empty cup, probably using it as an excuse to keep his head down. 

“Jon, look at me. You are blood of my blood. Father or uncle, does it really matter? There are fathers who hate their sons. A relationship is defined by the feelings of the two persons involved. I certainly love you as much as a father can love a son. Do I really have to paint the picture here or do you understand what I am trying to say? The Gods know I am a man of deeds and not words.” He put both hands on his nephew’s shoulders to emphasise his words but it were his eyes who really conveyed his feelings. 

Both men shared a timid look, the emotions visible on their faces. Benjen dropped his hands and looked a bit uneasy after this uncharacteristic expression of his deepest feelings. Jon cleared his throat and blinked a few times more. “Perhaps we should call it a night? You said yourself we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

His uncle swallowed but readily agreed and accompanied him to the neighbouring room. After a curt nod and a brief hug, he left his nephew’s room and closed the door behind him.

 

***

 

The next morning Jon avoided the large hall where the meals were served and broke his fast in solitude. Surprisingly enough his uncle was not to be found in his room. Well, Jon couldn’t fault him for that. He had forgotten to mention yesterday evening that he had planned to walk to the common room in his company. For some reason Jon felt unsettled at the Wall. Perhaps he should have listened to Ser Gerold. He hadn’t realised until now how accustomed he had become to the reassuring presence of armed guards and trustworthy advisers who had his back at all times. 

When he entered the main building in search of his uncle, a total silence fell over the room. All heads turned in his direction. He tried to fight the uneasy feeling that rose in his stomach. The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor startled the men as the Lord Commander rose and welcomed Jon Celtigar formally to Castle Black. This prompted Jon to approach the high table. He tried very hard to shut out the whispers that started up again behind his back. 

“I am sorry, Commander Mormont, I do not wish to disturb but I was looking for Lord Benjen of House Stark.” He paused hoping the man would come forward with the whereabouts of his uncle without delay. A knot formed in his stomach when he witnessed the man’s face fall.

“I presume you haven’t heard then.” Jeor Mormont sighed and sat back down. “Maester Aemon passed away sometime during the night. I believe Benjen Stark can be found in the Maester’s quarters. I am very sorry for your loss. I recently learned how close you two really were.”

“I thank you.” Jon stammered the few words. He had paled considerably. He turned around and left the room neither seeing nor hearing the stares and whispers that were escalating. His great-great-uncle had died. It had been rather obvious that Aemon Targaryen had fought desperately to stay alive long enough to transfer his knowledge to his kinsman and that once at peace his body would give in. But Jon had hoped to spend a few more days with him before that happened. 

The cold air enveloped him when he stepped outside. Somehow it left him defenseless when a sudden wave of loneliness hit him. Jon stumbled and sought support against the nearest wall. He tried to clear his mind and concentrated on his breathing. In out, in out. Slowly he felt the strength return to his shaky legs. He pushed off from the wall and forced himself to continue his search for Benjen Stark. 

He found his uncle making himself useful in the Maester’s quarters. Benjen Stark stood at the other side of Maester Aemon’s bed and acknowledged Jon’s presence with a solemn nod. Uncle Benjen informed him that the Night’s Watch would burn his uncle’s body that night. A reluctant glance at the lifeless body convinced Jon that he couldn’t handle staying in these quarters today. He left the room muttering a short excuse to Uncle Benjen and returned to his quarters in the west tower.

In the midst of his grief, he didn’t notice that Rykker had followed him ever since he had left the common room and had been watching over him from a distance the entire time. He only noticed the man when he turned around to shut the door of his bed chamber. Somehow Jon managed a nod in his direction before closing it entirely. He collapsed on his bed when an idea struck him. He adjusted his position, focused his mind and established a mental connection with his dragons. Together they took a moment to mourn the loss of a member of their small family. Sharing his grief with them made it more bearable. 

When his mind had cleared somewhat, he realised he would have to inform Princess Daenerys that their uncle had passed away and that the two of them were the only Targaryens left in the world. It proved to be a rather difficult message to write. He knew all too well from her letters how much she had looked forward to meet yet another living Targaryen. She had been so glad to learn that instead of being the only one left, she had two male relatives living in Westeros. If the situation at the Wall was not so dire, Jon would be on his way to Pentos right now. It would make the news so much more bearable for her if he could just wrap his arms around her. Jon shook his head. Who was he kidding? He would obtain some welcome relief as well to have the physical reassurance that they still had each other. It took all his mental strength not to jump on Rhaegal and fly south east.

After several attempts, he completed a decent enough message and sealed it quickly so he could maintain his resolve to keep Ser Barristan’s journey to her a secret. He really wanted it to be a welcome surprise and could almost visualise her joy when the famous knight would suddenly appear on her doorstep ready to take her home to Dragonstone. Her last message had elaborated on her eagerness and impatience to live together on Dragonstone. It had been hard then as well not to spoil the surprise and reveal that she was spending her last sennights in Pentos when he wrote his answer.

He decided to distract his thoughts by going on a short scouting mission. The day before, they had sent word of his arrival to the Free Folk. He knew the first official meeting between Free Folk, the Night’s watch and his entourage was planned to take place approximately two and a half sennights from now. Jon had planned to take the time in between to gather information about the enemy’s strength, position and movements. If some of the Free Folk would spot him riding his dragon it would only make Giantsbane’s tale of his rescue more believable. 

When Jon felt calm enough to leave his room, he was relieved to see Jaremy Rykker was guarding his door. When he told him he wanted to check up on his dragons the man immediately asked permission for his friend to come along. Soon after, Jon was introduced to Gylles Stokeworth. His new guard cut an imposing figure in his black attire. He was easily as tall as Sandor Clegane. His long grey beard made him look older than Jon supposed he actually was. It became clear from the first word he uttered that the man was extremely happy with the news of a possible restoration of House Targaryen. He vowed on the spot to obey his Prince’s every command proudly declaring that the words of House Stokeworth were ‘Proud to be Faithful’.” 

Jon took it all in stride. Slowly but surely he had come to terms with the devotion and subservience of men more than twice his age. He tried not to let it go to his head, fully aware it was also a great responsibility. Every decision he made could impact all these loyal men’s lives. He expressed his thanks to Gylles Stokeworth and gently reminded the overwhelmed man not to refer to him as a Prince in public.

The three of them left Castle Black through the south gate and walked towards the woods. 

When Gylles Stokeworth cleared his throat, Jon slowed his steps to draw level with the man. It was strange to see the imposing man look so hesitant to address a mere seventeen year old. “Is something the matter, Stokeworth? Please feel free to speak up.”

“It is rumoured you are in possession of Blackfyre. Is that true?” At Jon’s nod he continued. “Would it be too much to ask you to show it to us?” They had stopped walking at this point.

Jon smiled remembering how awestruck he had been when he first learned this legendary sword was not lost and was rightfully his to claim. He slowly removed the Valyrian steel sword from its scabbard and showed it to both men turning it slowly so they could admire it from all angles. A few moments later he carefully sheathed Blackfyre again and they resumed their walk.

Jon stopped after approximately two miles. “It is best you stay here. I will walk a bit further and call for my dragons. Do not approach them. You are free to return to Castle Black after you have seen me fly off. I will be back in time for supper and the burning ceremony.”

Jon smiled when he saw both men’s reverential reaction to the dragons. He realised that fervent Targaryen loyalists would welcome that sight more readily than anyone else. He waved at them when he flew over their heads, northward bound.

Up in the air it hit him that he did not have the time to venture far enough north to spot the enemy today. He decided to change direction and flew toward the west coast. He would find a quiet spot to spend some time with his dragons. He ordered Rhaegal and Viserion to thaw a space near some large trees which offered a beautiful view over the Bay of Ice and asked them to land there. Jon took up his favourite position against Rhaegal’s flank and spent a peaceful afternoon with his dragons. They connected their minds and Jon showed them his best memories of Aemon Targaryen. Then he shared with them that he looked forward to introduce them to another member of their family soon. When he started the journey back to Caste Black, he felt somewhat revived and hoped he would be able to attend the burial ceremony with dignity.

 

***

 

“I have been looking all over for you.” Benjen Stark took him aside the moment he saw his nephew enter the courtyard through the south gate. “Next time, please inform me of your plans. You are no doubt aware that Ser Gerold handed me the responsibility to keep a guard on you at all times. I was worried sick until Rykker told me you had taken the dragons on a scouting mission and would be back in time for supper.”

“I am sorry, Uncle. I was upset by the news of Uncle Aemon’s demise and needed to connect with Rhaegal and Viserion.” Jon kept his voice down, well aware of the spectacle they made. Several members of the Night’s Watch had stopped what they were doing to watch both of them interact.

“Let’s go inside.” His uncle had also spotted the interest they were gathering. “Supper and the burning ceremony will be interesting enough. No need to start the show early.”

“What show?” Jon asked taken aback.

“Jeor Mormont wants to make an announcement at supper. It has been brought to his attention that the men are gossiping behind your back and that the stories are growing more absurd the longer they remain unaddressed. He will officially announce your purpose here and give them the itinerary of the next few days.” His uncle looked ill at ease. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

“Before talking this through with me so we could perhaps influence his wording a bit? This is a delicate situation. I thought things would be easier now that he knows who I really am.” Jon followed his uncle a look of dismay on his face.

“Jon, at this point in time you are nothing but a pretender. You have no political power yet. Besides, the Watch takes no part in politics.” 

“But they are in dire need of help from me and my dragons. I think I vastly prefer the attitude of the Free Folk.” They entered the west tower.

“Do not forget the Free Folk witnessed first hand what your dragons are capable of. Jeor Mormont did not. He only has the testimony of Edd Tollet and myself. Also bear in mind that he is rather disappointed to put it mildly that you could not save Qhorin Halfhand.” His uncle tried to appease his nephew.

“Do you even know what Mormont’s itinerary for the next few days is? Are you comfortable with this situation, Uncle? Do you intend to talk me out of confronting him beforehand?” Jon had reached the door of his chamber and entered.

“I will not if you promise to keep your temper in check and ask politely.” Benjen sighed. “And I insist on coming along. I presume you will want to change first and I will leave you to do so privately.” he swiftly turned away but was too late to hide the expression on his face from his nephew.

“Uncle Benjen,” Jon troubled by his uncle’s demeanour stopped him from walking out the door. “Never ever hesitate to state your honest opinion to me. That is the only way this works. I am used to bouncing ideas off my advisers to develop strategies and they in turn are frank with me. Since you are the only one here I can really talk to, you will have to bear the brunt of my hair brained ideas. Do not take my outbursts personally. I will always respect your opinions and listen to your admonishments. Surely you are aware of the fact that your advice and opinions have a tremendous impact on me.” Jon paused to give his uncle time to mull this over. Seeing him relax his stance he continued. “If you think on it, you are fulfilling Davos’ duties and are temporarily Hand of the future King. And you know who they say wields the real power in Westeros.” A mischievous light shone in Jon’s eyes now.

“You will be the death of me one day, you know that don’t you? Can you distinguish all these grey hairs that keep appearing? At least half of them are your doing. You do realise I am in a bit of a bind here? I am the official liaison between the Watch and the realm. Defending Jeor Mormont has become a natural reflex of sorts. But have no fear, my dear nephew, my allegiance to you trumps all that. I only ask that you will give me some time to adjust to this new dynamic.” His Uncle Benjen left the doorway and stepped back into the room.

“So, do you actually have some advice on what to do about Mormont’s imminent announcement?” Jon returned to the matter at hand, immediately taking advantage of their new level of understanding.

Benjen walked to the window and watched the goings on in the courtyard. “I suppose it would do no harm to casually ask him about it if we happened upon him. Normally around this time he makes a short appearance in the training yard. Shall we venture there after you have refreshed yourself?”

At Jon’s questioning frown he added. “Your normally so beautiful curls are rather windblown, my dearest boy.”

Jon laughed. “If that is the case, just give me a moment. A few drops of water can work wonders to tame my unruly curls.

 

***

 

Benjen Stark had been obliged to use his diplomatic skills and all the goodwill he had amassed over the years with Jeor Mormont to come to a compromise acceptable to both parties. Somehow Jon seemed to rub the man the wrong way. A very unusual thing since his nephew normally got on so well with everyone, nobles, servants, Free Folk. Jeor Mormont however seemed immune to the boy’s charms and every word Jon uttered put the man immediately on the defensive. At one point during the discussion, Benjen had unobtrusively gestured Jon to keep quiet and let him do the talking. In the end Benjen had been able to slightly influence the Lord Commander’s plans. The man had agreed to keep his speech a bit more neutral but more importantly he had agreed to delay it until after the funeral. He would address his men the next day immediately after everyone had broken their fast in the common room.

“What is his problem with me?” Jon complained when the Lord Commander had disappeared inside at a summons of his steward.

“Several things I assume. It all started when you were forced on him as a twelve year old kid. Then you saved the day when he could not. He is a proud man, Jon. It is not easy for such a man to come to terms with the fact that he is forced to accept the help of a seventeen year old boy. You are a Targaryen and the North remembers. He most probably also resents you for the attention you get and is scared that your presence will stir up trouble. There are Targaryen loyalists and Baratheon supporters here taunting each other and rows might break out at any time. Only a few men here are nobles exiled for political reasons. Many recruits are convicted murderers, rapist or thieves. You know that. It is not easy to keep them in line. Mormont’s task is difficult enough on a normal day. Your presence makes Mormont’s command even more challenging,”

“Would it help if we tell him about Ser Jorah’s position as head of Princess Daenerys’ protection detail?”

“For heavens’ sake, do not bring that up. His son brought shame on his house and Jeor Mormont volunteered his services to the Night’s Watch so he would no longer have to face his bannermen and prove at the same time to the Warden of the North that there are still honourable Mormonts.”

“So there is nothing I can do to ease the situation?” This was unfamiliar territory for Jon and it was inconvenient to be at odds with the man who commanded the forces at the Wall. He hoped Ser Gerold did not learn too soon exactly how precarious Jon’s relationship with Jeor Mormont really was.

“Nothing that I can think of right now. Just keep your distance for the time being and only talk to him when you’re spoken to. Let me be your spokesman. Make sure you stay close to Rykker or Stokeworth at all times but especially during the announcement and the burning ceremony. Always carry your sword and both daggers as well. It never hurts to come prepared. We will make sure to seat ourselves close to an exit during the announcement.”

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “All I want to do is save the lives of the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch. It is hard to come to terms with the fact that I must protect myself from the very people I want to keep safe.”

“You’ll feel better once we have held our first official meeting with all parties.” His uncle tried to comfort his nephew. “You will be scouting tomorrow for most of the day anyway and perhaps the next few days as well and will have few opportunities to encounter Jeor Mormont.”

Jon avoided direct eye contact with the crowd when they entered the common room just before supper. Uncle Benjen walked beside him with Gylles Stokeworth and Jaremy Rykker following close behind. Supper was a tense affair. Jon kept a conversation going with the three men and ignored everyone else. Nobody came up to their table but the whispers and jibes he heard all around kept his nerves on edge. 

The funeral pyre of his Targaryen uncle was another ordeal to get through. Jon stood as stiff as a frozen corpse, kept his head down and his face as blank a possible. He would mourn for his uncle later in private. 

Jeor Mormont gave a brief eulogy and left quickly after. 

"His name was Aemon Targaryen. He came to us from King's Landing. A Maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. At the Wall, a dozen Lord Commanders came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. And now his Watch is ended."

Jon was disappointed by the short service, only a few sentences to honour a man who lived to celebrate more than a hundred namedays and served at the Wall longer than anyone else ever had. His uncle had meant so much to him and he had only known him for five years. These men had seen him daily. Many had lived with him for half of their lives or more and still they didn’t stay longer than a few moments to pay their respect. He abided by his Uncle Benjen’s wishes and didn’t draw attention to his heritage by giving a eulogy as well. Instead he recited a tribute to his uncle in his head.

Jon kept his vigil over the fire long after almost everyone had left. Uncle Benjen, Rykker and Stokeworth remained at his side. A few others did as well. Jon recognised Edd Tollet, and Pyp, the young steward he had met in his uncle’s room a few times. A few unfamiliar faces Jon surmised to be former Targaryen bannermen stayed as well. 

Only when the fire had died down completely did Jon move for the first time. He returned to his room without uttering a word. _‘And now his Watch has ended,’_ was his final thought before he fell asleep.

 

***

 

The next morning, Jon braced himself when he saw Jeor Mormont rise up from his chair at the high table to address the men who had finished breaking their fast. If the Lord Commander had thought to clear the air with his announcement, he could not have been more wrong. The theory of leaving behind all political alliances was just that, a theory. You could not force the hearts of men to forget their former loyalties even if they swore before their Gods. Ninety per cent of the men were here against their will and had dedicated their lives to the Night’s Watch because it was their only option to survive. Jon just had to look at the example of his own two loyal guards. Rykker and Stokeworth were sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch for more than seventeen years already but were still at their very core loyal to House Targaryen. 

After Mormont's well-intended announcement Jon had been bombarded with questions. Would he conquer Westeros with his dragons? Did he pose a threat to the reign of the Baratheon-Lannister dynasty? Did he intend to free all Targaryen loyalists that were exiled solely based on their politics and let them return home? Jon and Benjen Stark had tried to keep their comments neutral stating that these were all matters for much later. First they had to deal with the threat beyond the Wall. 

Baratheon and Lannister supporters started yelling at exiled Targaryen loyalists. Neither Jeor Mormonts nor Benjen Starks attempts to silence the room had any effect. It was just a matter of time before the row escalated and people would start fighting.

Fearing for his nephew’s safety Benjen Stark had removed Jon from the common room with the help of Rykker and Stokeworth. Other Targaryen loyalists had followed them out. Some of them stayed behind to block the exit. In the courtyard a protective circle formed around Jon. 

“I do not know how to keep you safe, Jon.” Benjen had been appalled by some of the threats he had overheard. One man had kept shouting _‘kill the dragonspawn before he burns us all’_.

“My dragons will keep me safe.” Jon stated in a level voice. He still reeled from shock and hardly noticed the stares of the men surrounding him when they heard him talk about dragons as if they were this common every day thing. “Is Mance Rayder still at the same settlement that Tormund Giantsbane showed us on the map?” Jon asked. Seeing his uncle’s nod he announced. “I will fly over there then. I’ll take my chances with the Free Folk. At least they appreciate my help.”

“But Jon, Ser Gerold won’t like this. You will once more be without guards.”

“Just explain the situation here, Uncle. Where do you believe I will be safer? Here where at least half of the men hate Targaryens even if they do not know whether I am one or not. Or amongst the Free Folk who kneel before me without being asked. Send me a message when things settle down here. Promise me you will stay safe after I leave you alone here. Don’t go all out defending me once I am gone. Keep up the pretence of being a neutral inbetween-man.” 

Benjen Stark heard some commotion inside the main building and ushered Jon towards the south gate. “I believe it would be best if you called for your dragons now, Jon. Is there anything in your chambers you need to take with you?”

“I would like to take the few things I brought with me, Uncle. At a minimum I need the map, some writing material, the spyglass and the small mirror. Let Rykker and Stokeworth go and gather my things. I will stay just outside the gate and let Rhaegal and Viserion make some ruckus. That should discourage the troublemakers sufficiently. The dragons are already on their way. I took the time to send my feelings their way. They know I am being threatened and are coming to keep me safe.” 

 

Jon had hardly finished talking when two large shadows appeared over the courtyard. Rhaegal roared loudly and Viserion copied his brother’s sound moments later.

In no time Jon was ushered out of the south gate by his small circle of supporters. The men who had fought their way out of the building to get to Jon stopped in their tracks and looked at the sky with fear in their eyes. Some dropped the weapons they had at the ready and fled back inside. Uncle Benjen shook his head. Jeor Mormont would need to take things in hand and quickly.

Once Jon had stepped outside of the gate, Rhaegal immediately landed next to him and lowered his shoulder. Viserion kept flying circles over the courtyard terrorising potential threats to his human. Finally Rykker passed through the gate with Benjen Stark at his side and showed them the small bag he carried containing the few items Jon had brought with him. Jon dismounted, quickly walked the distance the men had kept from the green dragon and accepted the bag. “Watch your back in there, Rykker. I appreciate all you have done for me. Now look after yourself.” Jon patted him on the shoulder then he hugged his uncle whispering once more in his ear that he should take care of himself in there and walked back to Rhaegal. 

“Let’s get your brother and find the Free Folk.” Jon mounted his dragon and allowed Rhaegal to make two intimidating circles over the courtyard just to make a point to everyone, before flying north to find the King beyond the Wall.

 

***

 

It had been easy to spot the settlement from high up. Mance Rayder had chosen to make camp in a clearing at two days march from the Wall. It made it easier for the representatives of the Free Folk to meet with the Night’s Watch at short notice now that a tentative truce existed, but more importantly their looming presence kept the pressure on the Night’s Watch so the Free Folk had a stronger negotiation position. 

Jon landed in an open spot not too far from the settlement. Lots of children and some adults came running towards his landing space but kept a respectful distance from the dragons. The moment Jon dismounted and stepped away from Rhaegal, Tormund appeared from amongst the crowd and gave him a tight hug and some forceful pats on his back. Jon explained in two sentences why he had come now instead of waiting until the formal meeting would take place. 

“Told you most crows are stupid fuckers.” Tormund was glad to point out to his new best friend. “You are free to live with us as long as you want, Dragonrider. As I also told you before, you fit right in with us Free Folk. Wanna go hunting with me tomorrow morning? I’ll bring an extra bow for you, one of my finest.” 

Jon was still reeling from the rather painful greeting and watched his dragons fly off to find something to hunt.

Not in the least deterred by his new best friend’s silence, Tormund led him towards a tent in the center of the settlement. “Time to meet our King, Dragonrider.”

“Please Tormund, just call me Jon.” 

“Mance, come here and meet Jon the Dragonrider and future King of the southerners.” Tormund shouted loud enough for a big part of the settlement to overhear while he ushered Jon inside the tent.

“And I so wanted to keep a low profile.” Jon muttered under his breath.

A tall man with long brown hair that had several grey streaks in it approached and greeted Jon with a nod. “So you are the skinchanger who rides a dragon and wants to become King in the South.” Mance Rayder opened the dialogue in a harsh tone. He gestured to both men to take a seat.

After some hesitation, Jon decided to ignore the two women who were seated in the far corner of the tent with their heads down and sat down on a heap of furs. He would follow the man’s lead. Not entirely familiar with the customs of the Free Folk, he preferred not to risk antagonising Mance Rayder by addressing the women without permission. At first glance, the King Beyond the Wall was an unremarkable average-looking man of undefinable age. His eyes however betrayed intelligence and a fierce protectiveness. 

“It is nice to meet you, Mance Rayder. I have come here to help the Free Folk. Whatever I do or do not intend to do in the South is of no importance here. The only thing I ask in return for my service to you is for you to keep an open mind and not to antagonise the Crows unnecessarily. We must all do our best to work together to defeat the threat beyond the Wall.” 

“So the reason you show up sennights before the official meeting is not to negotiate with us now without the presence of Benjen Stark and the Lord Commander? You are not planning to blackmail the Free Folk into helping you conquer Westeros in private and play the innocent benefactor in public at the big meeting later?” Mance had gotten up and towered over Jon during his accusation.

It was Tormund who reacted first. “Mance, what the fuck!” 

“It is quite all right. I would act the same way if I had that many people to protect.” Jon had put his hand on Tormund’s arm. His eyes however never left Rayder’s face. 

“My presence here has quite the opposite reason, I am afraid. I have come here to ask for your protection. Not all Crows are as fond of dragonriders as the Free Folk. I literally had to fly away from Castle Black to avoid being assaulted and I am seeking sanctuary.” Jon tried his most disarming smile.

Mance Rayder stared at the young man, not quite believing what he had just been told.

“I knew those crows were stupid but not that they were dumber than a new-born baby,” he finally exclaimed and sat back down.

“See Tormund, you and your King are on the same page. No need to threaten the man any longer.” Jon tried to sound as relaxed as possible. He needed to show no weakness if he wanted to win over the King Beyond the Wall.

“Same page, what does that mean?” Tormund’s eyes betrayed his confusion. 

Jon saw the mirth in Rayder’s eyes and acknowledged it with a slight smile of his own. Then he addressed Tormund. “Just a manner speech, my friend. It means you both share the same opinion.” 

Glad to see Mance Rayder had somewhat relaxed his stiff demeanour Jon spoke up. “Could I perhaps trouble you for a bit of food? I didn’t have the inclination to eat something this morning.”

His plea seemed to do the trick. Mance Rayder finally gestured the two women who had been present the entire time but had not moved an inch to come closer. “My wife Dalla and her sister Val. We will talk more later.” 

The women did not seem to mind the short introductions. “Follow us Dragonrider,” Dalla smiled at him and left the tent not bothering to look back to check whether the young Dragonrider was following. 

 

***

 

Jon spent a relaxing day touring the settlement with Tormund. He reacquainted himself with a few people and was introduced to many more. Tormund pointed out the various styles of tents and introduced him to several craftsmen who were proud to show their skills to the dragonrider. At Jon’s request Tormund had just introduced him as Jon the Dragonrider, leaving out the bit about a possible bid for the southern throne.

That evening after Jon had shared a tasty meal around a big fire, he entertained the Free Folk with the story of Euron Greyjoy’s defeat at the Stony Shore. He had to stop often to answer questions each time he used a term the Free Folk were unfamiliar with. The entire idea of a seafaring people was a new concept to the Free Folk. But mostly they wanted to hear over and over again how he controlled the dragons and he had to describe the uncommon colour of the eyes and fur of his direwolf several times. 

At a certain point Tormund took pity on him and helped him out by starting the story of his rescue by the Dragonrider near the Fist of the First Men and the slaying of the White Walker. The Free Folk had heard him tell this one already more than once but were spellbound to hear the joint version of Jon and Tormund. Both men made it a game of constantly interrupting the other to add more details and mocking the other’s actions. The result was hilarious and everyone retired to their tents with a large smile on their faces. 

Before Jon retired to Tormund’s tent, Mance Rayder issued an invitation to join him in his tent for a private meeting on the morrow. Jon agreed but only if he was allowed to delay the meeting until after a morning hunt with Tormund. He apologised but said he wanted to honour the prior agreement. Mance just laughed and answered that knowing Tormund he would not expect Jon before the sun had reached its peak. 

During the short walk to Tormund’s tent Jon politely declined several offers of young women who wanted to share his furs. Tormund had come to his rescue once more by shoeing the more obstinate ones away proclaiming loudly that the Dragonrider needed his rest this night. 

“The next night,” Tormund had laughed throwing his arm around Jon’s shoulder, “all bets are off and you will need to fend for yourself.” 

Although Jon felt right at home with the Free Folk and he had enjoyed this day immensely he did not fall asleep immediately. He kept seeing the lonely funeral pyre of his great-great-uncle and wondered about the purpose of a man’s life. He once more regretted that Daenerys would never get to meet the wise and kind man Aemon Targaryen had been. He checked in on his dragons but felt they at least were sound asleep. He wondered how Ghost was doing. He hoped to see his direwolf soon. If all went well the ship carrying Ghost, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor would arrive at the Bay of Ice in a sennight. He would ask his direwolf to join him at the Free Folk settlement and was sure the wolf would reach him before Davos and company would have travelled half the distance of their journey to Castle Black. Somehow the thought of showing his direwolf to the Free Folk made him relaxed enough to fall asleep.

***

 

Jon had spent an enjoyable morning with the big red haired man. However different their personalities, they interacted as if they had been best friends for several years instead of knowing each other for no more than a few days. Jon figured meeting each other under the threat of death had established an unconditional trust between the two of them at such a short acquaintance. 

Tormund asked for Mance Rayder's permission to be present during _‘the meeting of Kings'_. Jon nodded slightly toward Mance Rayder when the man’s eyes asked the silent question and the three men sat down ready to start their meeting.

Jon started by unfolding the map of the North whilst explaining he wanted to do some scouting before the official meeting with the Night’s Watch so they could talk concrete strategies instead of doing not much more than quarrelling over vague theories.

“See these crosses? They mark the places that I saw the remaining wights when they fled after their defeat. I also marked a few locations where I spotted other groups of wights when I scouted a vast area over the next two days. The small arrows point at the direction they were moving in. Do you have any idea what that central point is where they are all moving towards?”

Mance Rayder studied the map at length. “I have no idea. But then I have never ventured that far north. I will put this before the representatives of the clans. Perhaps a few of them have ventured closer to that area at some point in time.”

“Do you have a useful suggestion on where best to start scouting or do I just divide this territory in several squares and search them systematically?”

“Again, I am afraid I am not going to be a big help here. So do your thing. You are best placed to determine how wide an area you can adequately search in one session.”

“If I may ask, what measures do you take to protect the woman and children during an attack?” Jon estimated women, children and elderly made up almost seventy per cent of the population at this settlement.

“You mean small children, pregnant women and sick people.” Mance Rayder specified. “The rest of them all fight. I thought Tormund told you our spearwives are feared by many men here?”

“Even if I cross the spearwives and elder children from this list, you still need to answer my question. How do you protect those amongst your people that are too young, too pregnant, or otherwise unable to fight?” Jon’s tone indicated he wanted a clear-cut answer.

“There is not much we can do except put them in the middle of our settlement and try not to let those dead creatures breach our perimeter. Do you have a better idea coming here so high and mighty with your dragons?” Mance Rayder sounded as if he had taken Jon’s words as criticism of his ability to protecting his people. “We do not have those fancy stone walls to put our people behind that you have in the south.”

“He’s just here to help, Mance. It does no harm to listen to his ideas. You don’t need to carry them out if you do not fucking want to.” Tormund tried to keep the peace between the two.

“I have an advantage at my disposal, whether you like it or not. My dragons can give us an advantage. Aside from analysing the entire enemy’s position from high up and setting things afire, they can for example melt vast quantities of ice. When I followed the ones who were fleeing from us, I noticed they circled around a small pond. One of them fell in and never resurfaced. That is a weakness we can use to protect your families. If you know of a large frozen pond, we can for example put your children, elderly and anyone who isn’t fit to fight in the middle. My dragons can melt the borders of the lake and no wight will be able to reach them while we engage the enemy.”

Mance looked thoughtful. “That could be helpful for a small attack on a single settlement. However we are intending to gather all the clans of the Free Folk in one place in order to have an army of more than a hundred thousand strong to make our stand. Your icy pond would not be large enough to safeguard all our weak. Or something worse could happen. The ice could crack under the combined weight and my people would all drown.”

“There is another option.” Jon started.

Tormund was getting excited and didn’t let Jon finish. “Yes, lure the fuckers on the pond and then melt the ice so they are encircled by water. Once they are sitting ducks your fire beasts can burn them all.”

Mance noticed Jon’s expression and knew the young man had meant another possibility to protect his people. He told Tormund that his idea was an excellent strategy to attack but for now they were talking about protecting their children, pregnant women and elderly. He encouraged Jon to finish his previous sentence. His demeanour showing without needing to say it out loud that he had changed his mind and was not too proud to accept help that was so freely offered if it meant saving the lives of his people. 

Jon hesitated not knowing how the Free Folk would react to being forced on floating death traps as they had called the ships of the Ironborn the previous night. He would need to choose his words carefully.

“I have at least twenty five ships that are on their way to the Bay of Ice and can provide temporary shelter. Fifty or so will soon reach the eastern shores near Eastwatch. They could shelter your most vulnerable members when the need arises. The ships can anchor just far enough from the shore to keep out of range of enemy arrows and spears. The Free Folk would only need to board them when the enemy is close by and if they are reluctant, perhaps they can be persuaded if you tell them they need only stay on them as long as it is dark outside.”

Mance Rayder looked at Jon, astonishment and disbelief clearly visible on his face. “You would go to such trouble just to help us and want to make me to believe that you have no ulterior motive? I know enough of your southern ways to understand that such a large scale operation must cost you a fortune.”

“I have more than one motive, Rayder. “ Jon tried to stay patient and keep in mind that for centuries the Free Folk had had to defend themselves from the Night’s Watch and the people south of the Wall and therefore considered every outsider with mistrust. “I do not like to see innocents being slaughtered. Certainly not when I have these two powerful weapons to prevent it from happening. I would not be able to sleep at night. But perhaps the motive that might convince you is the following: If I do nothing and let the White Walkers enlist all of you in their army, Westeros won’t stand a chance once hundreds of thousands of wights break through the Wall. By protecting you, I am protecting Westeros.” Jon took a deep breath and waited for a reaction.

When nothing was forthcoming he tried once more. “Isn’t it better to combine our forces and lead them into a trap? If we are lucky we still have enough resources and superior numbers to fight them off. But if we squabble amongst ourselves and let them grow their army, slowly but surely the situation will reach a point where the remaining Free Folk will no longer stand a chance. We are all on the same side, Free Folk, Crows and Southerners because we have one thing in common. We are still breathing. This is a war of the living against the dead.”

Tormund had tried to stay out of it for a while but reckoned it was time to intervene. He simply declared. “I am with Jon.” Then he stood up and filled two cups of ale, handing one to Jon. “How about it Mance? Will you toast with us?”

Although Jon hadn’t noticed Mance reacting in any way, Tormund acted as if the man had come around. The big red man started filling a third cup. He handed it to his King and then raised his own. “To the living!” He shouted and proceeded to clash the other raised cups not minding the liquid that spilled on the ground. “Bottoms up! All that talking has given me a dry throat.”

“As if you did any talking.” Mance answered Tormund with a dry sense of humour. He had visibly relaxed and now repeated the toast looking Jon in the eyes. “To the living.” He drank until his cup was empty.

Jon did the same although the ale was not really that tasteful. 

“I might have some good news for you.” Jon declared, arousing the interest of Mance Rayder. “Are you still interested in obtaining dragonglass?”

“Dragonglass? Do you mean those volcanic daggers were made by dragons?” Tormund asked his voice sounding eager. “Can you ask them to make some more for us?”

“No Tormund, I am sorry to disappoint you. My dragons cannot create this glass. However we found a cave in Westeros with an indefinite supply. If all is well, my people are mining it as we speak. The only obstacle is the distance. As soon as I hear from my people, I will fly over there to bring some of it to the Wall. I have also arranged for a blacksmith to melt it into arrowheads and spearpoints. That way we can arm plenty of people with the first limited supply. If we can stall the main confrontation with the enemy long enough, a ship will arrive that will carry plenty more.”

“Do you hear that, Mance? And you distrust the man for fuck’s sake. He has put all of that shit in motion in just the few days that have passed since he rescued our sorry asses. Hell of a friend I made here, don’t you fucking think so as well? It is high time you declared him a friend of the Free Folk and stopped mistrusting him at every damned turn. He is a Dragonrider who controls two dragons. He has in his possession a magic sword that makes those White Walkers explode in fucking ice crystals and will bring us more of that useful glass than you ever imagined possible. What more do you need to start treating him with respect. I told you how we all kneeled before him, even the Magnar of the Thenns and it felt right. Wait until you see his enormous dragons rein fire on the dead bastards.” 

Mance looked at Jon who just shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. “No need to kneel, but a bit of trust would be highly appreciated.” 

“How old are you, if you do not mind my asking? You look hardly more than a boy but already you have accomplished more in a few sennights than all of us experienced fuckers have realised in years.” For the first time Mance started to believe that they had a chance to defeat the White Walkers and their army of wights and he could perhaps let go of his initial plan of storming Castle Black and escaping south of the Wall with his people if negotiations failed. He realised all too well that the Free Folk didn’t really want to live south of the Wall.

Jon hated the blush that rose in his cheeks. It would make him look even more like a green boy. “I am seventeen but have lived no ordinary life, Rayder. I was groomed to become a leader before I even knew what that word meant. I can count on a lot of support and have several honourable, wise, experienced men to advise and guide me.”

“Well as far as I can tell, they are not around now and you sure are acting all decisive and competent. And I may be wrong but it sounds to me that most of the plans you have laid out before us are your own ideas and not something others are forcing upon you. Your demeanour is very revealing young one.”

Jon just smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment. He noticed Tormund was busy filling their cups once more. 

“Let’s toast once more and get our lazy arses outside. I am in great need of some pussy. I intend to have plenty of fun before the fucking war starts.” Tormund handed Jon his pint and put his arm around Jon’s shoulder. “Come on Dragonrider, time to relax.”

Jon stalled him for a moment. “There is still one favour I need to ask of you, Rayder.”

“Call me Mance. I think you have earned it. What is it you would like me to do for you?” 

Finally a question of his was not met with immediate distrust, Jon noticed.

“I would like to send a message to my Uncle Benjen Stark at Castle Black. He can forward it to my entourage as soon as my fleet reaches the Bay of Ice. I had thought to ask Orell to help me but I haven’t seen him around.”

Tormund spoke up before Mance got a chance to answer. “I have sent word to his clan to let him know you are here. I am confident he will arrive as soon as he can.” 

“There is no other way to convey a message?” Jon asked.

“I thought you were a skinchanger yourself.” Mance interjected. “We have some birds in captivity. You only need to fly them to the wall.”

Jon looked at Tormund a question in his eyes.

“I will stay by your side Dragonrider and guard your skinny back and your magical sword while you do your warg thing and are as vulnerable as a sleeping baby.”

“Thanks, Tormund. I would certainly appreciate that. I just have to scribble some words and send the bird on its way. I hope you do not mind postponing your time with the ladies to help me?”

“The women will still be yearning for my big cock after I am done protecting Jon the Dragonrider. Come on let’s get to it.” 

 

***

 

As it happened Jon had an excellent reason not to accompany Tormund on his quest for sexual satisfaction. Not that he censured Tormund. The mother of Tormund’s children had passed away and the Free Folk had no strict rules on sexual encounters as long as both parties consented. Often the women made the first move and chose their partner. Usually once a child was born, the two parents bonded over the care of their offspring and in most cases stayed loyal to one another. 

Orell had arrived during Jon’s warging session and Jon had been happy to use the serendipitous timing as an acceptable excuse to abandon Tormund for the afternoon and most probably also evening entertainment of his choosing. 

Jon and Orell quickly got reacquainted and walked out of the camp to install themselves in a secluded spot not far from the place were Jon’s dragons were slumbering. Both wargs shared experiences. Jon was grateful for the useful flying tips Orell gave him. The older man had been soaring through the sky for decades and taught Jon several ways of using the naturally occurring currents of rising air in the atmosphere to remain airborne. Orell described to an eager pupil how to recognise these so-called thermal columns which simply put were clouds of air that were ascending and that could lift you up with them so you saved energy if you guided a raven, an eagle and possibly also a dragon if you were really high up in the air. The higher you got, he explained, the larger and more powerful these thermal columns got. 

They had spent the rest of the day while it was still light out alternating between Orell showcasing this technique and Jon trying to mimic this first with a small bird and later on with Rhaegal. Viserion had played along and both dragons had enjoyed this playful moment with their human. After dark, Jon had described the mental exercises he had repeated daily as a young boy to develop his warging skills. Most of them Orell could perform without conscious effort. A few others demanded more of his concentration and he told Jon he would try to master these over time. Orell thanked Jon and told him his input would certainly help him to teach warging in a more structured way to young children that showed their first signs of this ability.

The next evening when Jon returned from his first all day scouting mission, Rykker and Stokeworth were waiting for him at the settlement with a message from Uncle Benjen about the situation at Castle Black and one from Davos written the moment the ships had arrived at Bear Island. 

 

 

**Interlude 17: More visitors for Lord Reed**

 

Prince Oberyn Martel stood at the prearranged meeting place in the Neck. It had gradually been getting colder the further he travelled. Today was a sunless day but at the edge of the swamp the air felt oppressive. Oberyn removed the heavy cloak he had brought along for this visit to the far North. His daughter had done so earlier and was scanning the landscape impatient to get going. Howland Reed however had warned them not to traipse through the bogs of the Neck on their own but to wait for the guide he would send them.

Three figures finally appeared from between the green reeds. The man in the lead was clearly the guide, his short stature and green attire identified him as a crannogman. Oberyn didn’t recognise the two other men the guide was escorting out of the swamp. He saw they were staring him down as well. The guide however led them straight to a stable that Oberyn hadn’t realised was there before. Next thing he saw was the two men swiftly riding off in the direction of the Kingsroad.

Now it was their turn to leave their horses behind and navigate the small winding paths through the swamps of the Neck. But Prince Oberyn paid neither the dangerous road nor the tricky weather conditions much mind. He was looking forward to finally meeting the famous greenseer that had helped him play cat and mouse with Littlefinger over the years and win almost every game.

***

 

“Did you know I heard the most amazing rumour while travelling across the Riverlands?” Oberyn directed his question at his host. They had arrived earlier that day and after a reinvigorating bath and some rest they were now being served a hot meal in the presence of their host.

At first he had been disappointed when a small lean man had introduced himself as Lord Howland Reed. However Oberyn had needed just a short time in his company to get drawn in by the strange eyes and enigmatic demeanour of the crannogman.

He noticed Howland Reed deliberating before he answered him. “I do not suppose you mean the dragon sightings, Prince Oberyn?” 

Oberyn caught his host studying Nymeria’s reaction. “My daughter is aware of my actions, Lord Reed. She wants to swear her sword to Lord Celtigar if he allows it.”

Nymeria raised her head and looked at her father. “Actually, my spear would be more accurate. And I need to meet the famed man first before making my final decision, as I have told you several times already, Father.”

“I believe you were about to tell me an entertaining rumour?” Howland Reed brought the conversation back on track.

"Indeed. Imagine my surprise when one of the mousy Freys I encountered in a tavern was talking about Eddard Stark and how he was not the rightful heir to Winterfell.” Oberyn paused driving up the suspense.

“A mousy Frey, you say?” Lord Reed played along.

“I forgot his name. They all have that same drab insignificant face. But never mind the messenger. It was his message that drew the attention of several drunkards. Rumour has it that Eddard Stark’s elder brother, Brandon Stark sired a trueborn son, though some versions of the story claim he is a bastard which allegedly explains why he is not the current Lord of Winterfell. Anyway, this supposed son of Brandon Stark senior I was told is a fierce warrior and apparently led the defense at the Stony Shore when at least two hundred Ironborn ships attacked there.” Oberyn’s eyes twinkled now.

Howland Reed had read the report from a dismayed and rather upset Ser Gerold and had been vastly amused himself by the erroneous reasoning that had resulted in such an outlandish rumour. He had written back to Ser Gerold reassuring the man that nothing would come of it and to just move on and forget he ever heard it. He focused his attention back on Prince Oberyn when he asked him. “How did you react to that?” 

“I told them I only heard rumours of dragons. And then I proceeded to ask him in my most serious voice if they were sure they were talking about a man or a dragon, since I was fairly sure that I had heard tell that it was a dragon that had single-handedly defeated the Ironborn fleet at the Stony Shore.” Oberyn grinned.

“That is not a joke, Prince Oberyn. A man from a certain bloodline is sometimes referred to as a dragon. You could have put the idea in their heads. And what once started as a ridiculous rumour could get a smart man to think twice and come up with an answer very near to the truth.”

“Not if you put other ideas in the heads of drunkards and simple-minded Freys.” Oberyn countered. “They immediately corrected me stating there was only one dragon flying around and that it belonged to the Golden Company not knowing that it was my daughter Nymeria and myself that had started that rumour before in other taverns.” His smile turned smug when he stopped talking. 

“I am not too humble to accept praise for my efficient rumour spreading skills.

“He also told the Freys that the Ironborn were gone and would not be back for a long time. You should have seen the stricken look on their mousy faces.” Nymeria Sand added to her father’s tale.

“Our journey through the Riverlands has been fruitful. We have thwarted several schemes. Helped sensitive information reach Riverrun and put the fear of repercussion by Houses Tully and Stark in the minds of many servants of House Frey and every single descendent of Walder Frey we happened to encounter. I thoroughly enjoyed starting the rumour that House Bolton had reconciled with House Stark on the occasion of the impending royal visit and that they were considering retaliating against the traitors of House Tully that were by extension traitors to House Stark. I told them they should watch their skin very carefully because the Boltons liked making coats of it.”

“I doubt that Walder Frey will fall for that.” Howland Reed interjected. 

“Maybe not, but a bit of doubt can cripple a man.” Oberyn countered. “I lost nothing by trying. Rumours will come at him from all sides. My beautiful daughter is very skilled at infiltrating all kinds of places and planting ideas into other people’s minds.”

Nymeria just smiled and concentrated on eating her food. Her father however was enjoying himself immensely.

“Perhaps I forgot to mention that I also spoke to them about how Littlefinger has lost the ear of the King? That piece of gossip is certain to affect Walder Frey. He will be even more willing to believe it since we intercepted a messenger by accident, shared his evening meal and sent the man on his way with a lighter saddle bag than before.”

“Do you mean you stole his messages?” Howland Reed clearly liked were all of this was going.

“Indeed, if you would like to read a nice bedtime story, I can give you the latest scrolls Littlefinger has written but that will unfortunately never find their way into the hands of Walder Frey. I did have some compassion for the lonely man though and saw to it he still received one nice letter, only with a slightly different content.”

“I hesitate to ask.” Howland Reeds green eyes twinkled now.

“Oh, I was not so very naughty. It only mentioned that the previously agreed to scheme was delayed due to unforeseen troubles with the Ironborn and that Littlefinger needed to re-establish his political position due to the appointment of a new Hand of the King before deciding which allies he still needs for his self-preservation.”

“So Walder Frey thinks his support is being withdrawn for the time being, perhaps even indefinitely." Oberyn saw Howland Reed starting to believe that his actions would have a significant impact. 

“I did as much as I could. While at Riverrun, I asked Lord Tully to send men throughout the Riverlands to try and shoot down all ravens headed for or leaving the Twins. You know and I know that Walder Frey will not take on House Tully without external support. He is too much of a coward. It may well be that my daughter and I have done just enough to stave off this crisis. Do you think I may expect a thank you letter from Eddard Stark if we can get these scrolls into his hands?”

“Well, you are heading north and I am travelling to Winterfell as well. If we time it right, we can intercept Lord Stark just west of White Harbour and hand them to him personally.“

“This journey gets better and better.” Oberyn filled his cup of wine again and raise it. “To a swift and peaceful outcome.”

“I’ll drink to that. I think I can make your visit to Greywater Watch even more worth your while.” Howard Reed drank from his cup his eyes not leaving Oberyn’s face.

“Do tell. Ever since I encountered Benjen Stark all these years ago, my life has been one amazing adventure. I am open for anything you conspirators can come up with.”

“Well I think both of you will like this surprise. I wonder if I should spoil it by telling you what it is beforehand.” He enjoyed duelling with words with his exotic guest.

“Have we not done enough to earn a small reward?” Oberyn tried to persuade his host.

“Well, I am expecting another visitor soon. I presume he will be arriving in three or four days and will stay just the one night. We should leave the next day anyway to intercept Lord Stark. That is if you are planning on joining me on a big part of your journey north.

“Everyone told me you lived here rather isolated and I believed them. That’s five visitors back to back. May I ask who the two callers that our guide escorted safely out of the swamps this morning were?” Oberyn was sure he never had seen the two men before and was curious to know whether these were fellow conspirators.

“Those two were surprise visitors to me as well. Have you never in all your travels come across Lord Beric of House Dondarrion or Thoros of Myr a red priest?”

“Not in person. I know of the priest’s reputation.” Prince Oberyn looked intrigued.

“Don’t we all.” Lord Reed remarked drily.

“Father, you haven’t given Lord Reed the chance to tell us what visitor he is expecting three or four days from now.” Nymeria had never heard of the two men before and Lord Reed had piqued her interest with the mysterious way in which he had announced his future visitor. “A nice surprise I think you promised us, Lord Reed?”

“Well only if you have never met a dragonrider before.” Oberyn watched Lord Reed trying to suppress a big grin but fail. Then his words registered.

“Jon? Jon is coming here? Are you certain! Oh the Gods be praised. I have been counting the moons that separated me from laying eyes on that dear boy again. Letters just are not enough to do a relationship like ours justice.”

“Better not call him boy. Ser Gerold’s letters tell me of a Prince bossing him around. Can you picture that? I am very eager to see the dear boy as well.”

“As am I. Father told me he has the most adoring black curls and could pass for a girl when he counted eleven namedays.” Nymeria looked like a kid who had been given the nameday present she most wanted to receive.

“I didn’t say it like that exactly.” Oberyn defended his erstwhile description of Jon. “I said his curls would look lovely on a girl’s head. That’s something entirely different. Do not go blabbering what you just said to Jon. That boy likes me and I‘d like to keep it that way.” The mirth shone from his eyes though.

“Well, let us hope our Prince doesn’t get delayed and we can all enjoy his company for a day.” Howland Reed’s tone implied that subject was closed for now.

Not long after everyone retired after Lord Reed promised them an extensive tour of his domain the next day.

 

***

 

Four days later, all eyes in the courtyard of Greywater Watch were trained on the northern sky. The weather hadn’t changed and it was still cloudy and humid in the swamps. Nymeria was the first to point out two black spots appearing beneath the clouds. Sure enough, not long after Jon carefully landed Rhaegal in the training yard where he had fond memories of sword-fighting sessions with his Kingsguard and Robb.

Lord Reed told everyone to stay back. As soon as Jon dismounted, Rhaegal joined his brother who circled over the courtyard and both of them flew off in the direction of the Godswood.

Jon immediately sought out Lord Reed and embraced his former foster father not paying attention to the two figures behind him. “I am so glad I finally found the opportunity to come and see you. It has been too long.”

“It has indeed. You have grown into a fine young man but your letters and the messages I got from your circle of advisers and protectors made me expect no less. We’ll reminisce later, first let me introduce you to two of my guests who claim they single-handedly averted the crisis in the Riverlands.”

“Prince Oberyn!” Jon exclaimed and then remembered his manners. He bowed his head slightly. “Greetings. What a happy coincidence. You are looking well as ever. I really hope we have time to catch up and perhaps a sparring session?” Jon eye’s twinkled. “And this lovely young lady I presume is your daughter, Nymeria Sand?”

“What’s with the formalities? Come here.” Oberyn swallowed to words ‘my boy’ just in time, took the last step separating him from the Targaryen Prince and gave him a short but welcome hug.

Nymeria made a curtsy. Jon smiled and acknowledged her gesture with a slight nod. “I have not heard that much about you, my Lady. Just that you and your sisters are beautiful and at the same time fierce fighters. I can already tell the first compliment is the absolute truth as far as you are concerned. The second one you could show to me by assenting to a short sparring session later? I would very much like your help to persuade your father to join us so I have a chance to cross his spear again now that I have grown up some.“

Nymeria looked at her father. “You need to be persuaded to enter a fight? Since when?”

Oberyn just laughed. “Come one, if Howland Reed told true, this young man flew a long way. Let us all go inside and take some refreshments first. If that is all right with you, Lord Reed?” Oberyn remembered just in time he was not the host here.

They spent a lovely afternoon reminiscing, had a short sparring session where Jon bested them all which made Oberyn sigh in resignation, Nymeria determined to train harder and Lord Reed very proud. That evening they discussed politics over supper. 

Since Jon was set to leave right before dawn he said goodbye to Prince Oberyn and his daughter at the dinner table. He wished them a safe journey north and promised them that he would be waiting for them at the Wall. He told them he already looked forward to introducing them to the Free Folk. 

Nymeria saw him leave with regret in her eyes. She had tried to give him subtle hints but the handsome Targaryen Prince had skillfully evaded every seductive gesture she had made. Her father had warned her beforehand that the Prince was a rather responsible youth who would not take a girl to bed just for the fun of it. All the same, she had hoped her father had it wrong or that she could turn out to be the exception. 

Howland Reed intercepted Jon before he could enter his room that night and told him there still were some things he needed to discuss with him. Once behind closed doors, he started by telling Jon about the strange encounter with Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion and how these two new allies were travelling to the Stormlands to assess the situation there. They would also try to counteract the influence a red priestess was rumoured to have over Lord Stannis Baratheon. 

They briefly discussed Jon’s troubles with Jeor Mormont. Howland Reed promised him that everything would work itself out. He had felt it prominently in a green dream that ended with a strange prophesy. ‘Lion trumps bear without either one using their claws.’ Because of the feeling associated with this dream Howland Reed feared that Jeor Mormont’s days as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch were numbered.

Jon brought up the subject of Bran’s almost fall and of his emerging warging abilities. 

“I wondered if you would be up to fostering another boy, Lord Reed. I think Bran has the potential to become a powerful warg. I planted the idea of sending him here in Lord Stark’s mind. I hope I did not overstep.” Jon added that last bit just to be polite but he was fairly sure his former foster-father would take to Bran as quickly as he had once taken to a small orphan from the Driftmark.

Lord Reed assured him he would feel honoured to guide the young Stark and then changed the subject without revealing that that was the actual reason why he was headed north anyway. He asked Jon once more how fast he could fly and also to tell him in detail how tiring the journey had been from Castle Black to Winterfell and from Winterfell to Greywater Watch. Jon just looked at him with knowing eyes and revealed that he already intended to make a stop of one or two days at the Vale before flying to the Driftmark to complete his initial mission of picking up a small amount of dragonglass. 

Howland Reed was astonished but relieved and together they discussed the best strategies to deal with the situation at the Vale. When they were finally ready to retire, Lord Reed promised him he would be up early enough to see him off. He didn’t envy the Targaryen Prince who had to take so much upon himself. He could only pray to the Old Gods each night to keep the Prince Who Was Promised safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon reunites with Davos, Ser Gerold, Gendry and last but not least Ghost. Our Dragonrider does a lot of traveling though.  
> The interlude features Jon as well, this time at the Vale.


	18. A stubborn bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reunites with Davos, Ser Arthur, Sandor, Gendry and last but not least Ghost. He does a lot of traveling though.  
> The interlude features Jon as well, this time at the Vale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter and especially the character of Donal Noye to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr.  
> Not only does she help me with spelling and grammar but she also gives me excellent suggestions due to her 'nerdish' knowledge of the ASoIaF universe.

Jon was glad Rykker and Stokeworth had taken the trouble to come all the way from Castle Black to bring him a scroll Davos Seaworth sent from Bear Island. However much he wanted to make his own decisions, he relied on all of their council and guidance to be sure he looked at every angle. Most of all he missed their company. To Jon it felt as if they were a close-knit community almost like a family. The three knights had been his constant companions ever since he was born. Davos had been with him from around his twelfth nameday and Jon had come to rely on his presence. Each time away from them it felt like he was missing a part of himself. He liked Gendry’s quiet unassuming personality and Ghost was a part of himself. He had felt the direwolf’s presence in his dreams last night and had felt they were getting closer.

The message from uncle Benjen he accepted with trepidation fearing its content. He hadn’t asked the two men what the situation at the Wall was like when they left there and they didn’t volunteer the information.

He thanked Rykker and Stokeworth for coming all this way and walked with them to the side of the camp where food and drinks could be found. A group of young women were preparing the meal for that evening. It took only a big smile and a few kind words and they were only too willing to give the handsome Dragonrider a large enough portion for his newly arrived company. They installed themselves around a small fire in front of the tent where Jon slept. He let the two men eat but didn’t partake himself. He was eager to open the messages. The contents of Davos’ scroll did not disappoint. 

Davos wrote that the three ships had arrived at Bear Island in good order. He estimated that the extra twenty five ships would be ready to depart with them in two days’ time. They found a larger fleet of ships docked in the harbour than expected. The people of Bear Island had not stopped building ships when the twenty five commissioned by the Warden of the North were ready. They had used the new shipbuilding site to construct their own fleet. As a consequence, Davos wasn’t obliged to leave a small part of Jon’s fleet behind. The Mormonts of Bear Island were even willing to lend them some of their own vessels should the need arise. Lady Dacey of House Mormont had received a raven from the Warden of the North, describing the situation at the Wall. She was very willing to assist the Night’s Watch and everyone helping them by extension. Davos estimated they would arrive with twenty eight ships, three days after they set sail from Bear Island. 

Davos expressed his hopes in the message that Jon would meet them there as soon as his ships had thrown anchor. Since it had taken Rykker and Stokeworth two days to reach him, Jon estimated he could meet up with them three days from now. 

He steeled himself before he opened uncle Benjen’s message. The situation at Castle Black was still rather chaotic. Jeor Mormont tried to keep order by punishing the men harshly for the slightest brawl. As a consequence a tense atmosphere hung over the stronghold and people formed little camps silently staring each other down. Everybody was on edge. Uncle Benjen urged Jon to keep Stokeworth and Rykker with him. He worried for their safety since everyone knew they had been assigned to protect the dragonrider. He asked Jon to keep himself safe and hoped that they would see each other soon. If the situation at Castle Black didn’t improve soon, he would join his nephew at the Free Folk settlement. Jon put the scroll down and wondered why he was so disheartened since the message contained exactly what he had expected it would. 

No longer eager to start scouting, Jon entered his tent and prepared a response that he planned to guide himself to Davos’ ship. Since Rykker and Stokeworth were exhausted when they arrived, probably due to taking turns at night watching over the other in the hostile environment that now was Castle Black, Jon ordered both of them to take some rest without delay. He promised them he would spend the afternoon in the woods with his dragons. He figured now was not the time to explain to them what happened when he needed to steer a bird during a long flight. He opted not to find someone to look after him during this warg session. He was confident that his dragons would watch over him while he steered the raven. They would from a protective circle around him and he would be quite safe. 

Jon loved spending time with Rhaegal and Viserion. His bond with his dragons had only grown more intense. These last few days, they had spent every moment of daylight together and the first part of the night as well, scouting and playing in the air. As far as Jon could tell by the territory he had covered on his first reconnaissance flights, the enemy was gathering in the far north. Just a small band of seemingly lost wights accompanied by one White Walker were wandering from the Antler River in the direction of Craster’s Keep. At the slow pace they were moving and taking into account that they were travelling only after dark, it would take them some time before they arrived at their supposed destination.

Jon was getting better at guiding birds. He had Orell to thank for that. It had been fun to surprise Davos by landing on his shoulder. He had witnessed the man’s face light up when he read Jon’s response. Since no return message was necessary, Jon had released the bird’s mind. He had stayed with his dragons a bit longer before heading back to the Free Folk settlement. There he learned that Tormund had assigned him his own tent which was large enough to accommodate him and his newly arrived guards.

The next morning Jon, urged Rykker to return to Castle Black with a message for his uncle. Jon had marked a map with the results of his scouting missions. Jaremy Rykker had refused to leave his side and had sent Stokeworth instead. However Rykker didn’t see much of Jon during daytime. They saw each other mostly after dusk when Jon aborted his scouting missions. The day the ships were due to arrive, Jon left Rykker behind at the Free Folk settlement and flew to the Bay of Ice to meet up with his entourage.

***

Jon found himself at the shore way too early and mounted Rhaegal once more to fly out over the sea and exchange early greetings with everyone from above.

The fleet of twenty eight ships formed an impressive sight. For the moment they flew banners of Houses Stark, Mormont and Manderly. The large sails were devoid of a sigil for now. He had felt Ghost before he saw him and had let the wolf express his joy to feel his human so nearby and sent his own in return.

Ghost was the first one off the boat. He put his front legs on Jon’s shoulders and slobbered all over him. When the rest approached, Jon had to wipe his face clean before greeting them. They all seemed relieved to see him safe and sound but were disheartened when they heard what had happened at Castle Black. Ser Arthur was muttering something to Sandor who agreed wholeheartedly. Jon almost felt sorry for the men of the Night’s Watch. These two were obviously planning some sort of retaliation.

“And you just left your uncle Benjen behind and fled to the Free Folk?” Davos didn’t like what he was hearing at all.

“Don’t worry about me, Davos. I couldn’t have received a warmer welcome at the Free Folk settlement. All these things they tell us south of the Wall about the so-called Wildlings are false. Granted most of them are illiterate and have rather rough manners. Though what really matters is that they are straightforward and have as much honour as any of us. Not only did they immediately believe I am on their side, they treat me as one of them. I have enjoyed living with the Free Folk despite the fact that I have been spending most of my time scouting high up in the air. The evenings are very entertaining.” 

Jon went on and described the cosy gatherings around a bonfire, the hunt he had been on with Tormund Giantsbane and how he had learned a thing or two from a fellow warg.

Nevertheless Davos convinced Jon not to return to the Free Folk settlement for now but to accompany them on the journey overland to Castle Black. Jon agreed sensing it would benefit everyone to spend some time together and to reassure Uncle Benjen in person of his wellbeing. As soon as they started their journey, he had climbed on the wagon and guided a bird to Jaremy Rykker at the Free Folk settlement to explain his prolonged absence. Rykker had startled when a bird entered his tent. Luckily the man had spotted the message and Jon could rest assured now that the Free Folk would not worry about the Dragonrider leaving them to fend for themselves. In the message he asked Rykker to stay put for now. If the situation at Castle Black was untenable Jon would join him at the settlement in no time.

When he came out of the warg session, he mounted the horse they had brought along for him. Sandor and Ser Arthur flanked their Prince at all times although often Ghost would fight them for Jon’s personal space. Gendry hardly got a chance to talk to Jon. Both young men rectified this situation by sharing a tent at night. They enjoyed a long conversation before they let sleep overtake them that first night.

Jon eased the journey considerably by asking his dragons to help them cross several obstacles they encountered on their path. Rhaegal and Viserion cleared the road a few times by melting heaps of snow where avalanches had buried part of their path. Sometimes his dragons even nudged rocks aside so the wagon had more room to manoeuvre. They made good time and reached Castle Black in less than five days.

Davos was determined to have a word with the Lord Commander first thing. Even if one respected the political neutrality of the Night’s Watch, Jon was still the nephew and under the protection of the Warden of the North. If Jeor Mormont could not keep his men under control, perhaps a change in command was in order? Davos would get to the bottom of this situation and even though Jon did not want to burden Eddard Stark with another problem during the royal visit, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor were of a different opinion. All three agreed that Jon’s safety was of the utmost importance and they were certain that Lord Stark would want to be informed. Davos was fully aware that even though he could try to reason with Mormont, it was the Warden of the North who could exert real pressure on the Lord Commander. 

However, when they entered the gates of Castle Black, they found Cotter Pyke in charge. It was Gylles Stokeworth that welcomed them and immediately informed them that Jeor Mormont had left to deal with the dead that were heading for Craster’s Keep. Apparently Benjen Stark had tried to placate the man by sharing with him the scouting information Jon had diligently sent to his uncle. Hearing of the contingent of the enemy heading in the direction of Craster’s Keep, the Lord Commander had decided to re-establish morale by giving his men a chance to prove the Night’s Watch could defend themselves against this army of the dead led by alleged White Walkers. He had left Castle Black with the largest party to ever range beyond the Wall on a single mission. 

“I am so glad that you did not decide to join them this time, Uncle Benjen.” Jon told his Stark uncle when the man pulled his him into a hug as soon as he saw him enter the room. “Gylles Stokeworth had told them that they could find Benjen Stark in the west tower where he was writing some messages. The Targaryen loyalist had then left them to inform the temporary Lord Commander that he was resuming the task that Jeor Mormont had assigned him. He would once more see to the needs of the visitors that were sent by the Warden of the North.

“I did not want to leave you alone, Nephew. You have a tendency to attract trouble at the Wall and an expedition with that many men could take moons. I am glad to see you return with decent protection this time. By the way, thank you very much for sending a message so soon after leaving here. I was relieved to read your description of the welcome you received from the Free Folk and their King Beyond the Wall. When everything has settled in the realm and you find the time, you should rectify the history books and send your version of the customs and lore of the Free Folk to the Citadel.”

“Dammit!” Davos’ exclamation made all eyes turn to him.

“Something the matter, Davos?” Jon asked surprised to hear the man swear out loud.

“You do understand the consequences of a prolonged absence of the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, don’t you? Stark, did he sent word to the leaders of the Free Folk that the official meeting would be postponed, or didn’t he even have the courtesy to let them know he would not attend?”

“Nice to see you again too, Davos.” Benjen mocked the man for forgoing the usual niceties. “I hope you all had an easy journey. I’ll take my time to greet you later,” he nodded at Ser Arthur, Sandor and Gendry before he turned his attention back on an impatient looking Davos. “Sorry Davos, but I am glad to see the others as well. To answer your question, he did indeed send them a message. He told me that he justified the delay of the official meeting by using the argument that negotiations between both parties would be more productive if they met after the Night’s Watch had taken their own measure of this mutual enemy. He warned the King Beyond the Wall that the meeting might be postponed for several moons.” Benjen’s tone changed when the repercussions dawned on him as well.

“So you realise as well that this messes with our timing. Jon, we will need to revise our strategies and priorities.” Although he addressed his Prince with his words, his eyes had taken a faraway look.  
_‘Perhaps I should have joined Ser Gerold on his journey to Dragonstone. Now I am are stuck here at the end of the world because of a stubborn bear. How will Eddard Stark be able to prevent King Robert from attacking Dragonstone if rumours spread about someone taking possession of the island? The plan was for all of us to be there by then and to start phase two of our plan.’_

Jon went over to Davos and tried to calm him down. “Davos, nothing is lost yet. Ser Gerold hasn’t even reached White Harbour yet. If all goes as planned, he will arrive there tomorrow. Let us send out messages to our allies that we arrived at Castle Black and ask them to send us status reports. Who knows, perhaps the King stays longer in Winterfell or something else changes that delays our plans for the south and we are worrying needlessly. If the situation at Dragonstone deteriorates, I can be there in two or three days' time at the most. I propose we stress to our allies that secrecy and stealth are more important now than timing and speed when they take Dragonstone. It is imperative that the capital does not hear that Dragonstone will have changed hands before we want them to.”

The others all agreed with Jon. Davos and Jon immediately wrote and dispatched the message to White Harbour for Ser Gerold. The rest could wait till tomorrow. They would reassess the situation when they were rested and had more intelligence. Davos realised being on the move for so long had tired everyone out and told them to take it easy for the remainder of the day.

***

Jon and his entourage were left in relative peace. Even Ghost was tolerated when it became clear that the direwolf never left Jon Celtigar's side and the young man seemed to have absolute control over the large animal. 

The only upside to Jeor Mormont’s untimely leaving was that Cotter Pyke as acting Lord Commander kept the remaining men in check. A few brothers of the Night’s Watch had been punished for starting a row and were spending two sennights in a cell. Pyke apparently respected the fact that Jon, his dragons and his advisers were there to help and made it clear that he would not pry. At least Jeor Mormont had kept Jon’s real identity a secret to his replacement and they all agreed to try to keep it that way as long as possible. Soon enough Renly Baratheon would arrive and if he knew that a Targaryen with a rightful claim to the Iron Throne was at the Wall, it would be difficult to prevent him from getting a message through to his elder brother if not cause a riot.

Still Davos didn’t want to take chances with their safety and urged everyone to keep a low profile. They mostly stayed ensconced in the west tower and discussed the messages from their allies that reached them at Castle Black. Pyp together with an older steward took care of the ravens for now and distributed the incoming messages diligently. They adapted the timing of their sparring sessions to the odd times when the training yard was empty. Jon marked his first straightforward victory against Ser Arthur Dayne. He had used no tricks or distractions and the man’s arm had fully healed. Sandor applauded although he warned Jon in his usual style.

“Better not bitch about it too much, boy. It probably was a fluke. Be wise and do not become a stuck up cunt before you are able to fucking back up this one tiny victory by winning from him more times than you fucking lose.”

Jon laughed in response. “I know all too well I was lucky this time. I only take heart in the fact that I am improving. I hope to never become a stuck up cunt though, Sandor. I trust you to help me with that.”

“You have been improving by leaps and bounds lately, my Prince. I warn you though that that particular combination of strikes won’t fool me a second time. Come on, let’s continue our training.” Ser Arthur encouraged his Prince.

Gylles Stokeworth had been mesmerized by the sparring sessions. When he first spotted Ser Arthur entering the gates of Castle Black, he had almost been reduced to tears. Stokeworth had gone to one knee before Ser Arthur proclaiming that for the duration of their stay he reported to the Lord Commander of Jon’s Kingsguard now and would obey his every command. This false assumption however made everyone aware that someone needed to coordinate Jon’s protection and Ser Arthur effectively took up the mantle as interim Lord Commander of a reduced Kingsguard.

Sandor stopped the official nonsense by challenging the man to spar a few bouts with him. A significant look from Ser Arthur made Sandor hold back a little bit. It wouldn’t do to humiliate a man who had not been able to train on a superior level for a very long time.

Unbeknownst to Jon, Sandor and Ser Arthur joined some training sessions of the brothers of the Night’s Watch and did not hold back when facing the ones Stokeworth had pointed out to them that had been major instigators of the riots that had induced Jon to retreat to the Free Folk. Many a brother had been humiliated and bitten the dust. Ser Arthur and Sandor made their point by very subtly holding back when facing Targaryen supporters making it seem as if they were far more competent than their unlucky brothers who left the training yard with lots of bruises and hurt pride. 

***

After his first night’s rest at Castle Black, Gendry did not waste any more time and visited the building that housed the armoury and the blacksmith’s workshop. Full of purpose he burst into the gloomy space startling a middle aged man who put down the tool he was cleaning. 

“Who the hell do you think you are boy, bursting in here all high and mighty?” The sound of his rough voice stopped Gendry in his tracks.

“I sorry, my Lord.” He apologized immediately. “I didn’t think anybody would be here already. Are you the armourer? Did nobody inform you that I was coming? I was given permission to use your forge. I hope that that is not too much trouble for you?”

“You do not seem to be a new recruit? Come closer boy. Who are you? You look rather young to be a blacksmith.”

Gendry made a few steps towards the table where cleaned tools lay ordered by size. “My name is Gendry. I apprenticed with Tobho Mott in King’s Landing, my Lord. Do not worry. I have been told that I am fairly proficient.”

“I am no Lord, boy. Even if I was, no titles here at the Wall, remember? I’m Noye.” 

Now that the boy stood before him, Noye studied him closely. He looked the part all right. A tall sturdy lad with muscular arms, raven black hair …, he startled.

“The Gods help me. It is like seeing a ghost. King’s Landing you say? Are you by any chance a high Lord’s bastard?”

“I am. King Robert’s bastard. I do not think he knows of my existence though.” Gendry said knowing there was no point in hiding his parentage from this particular man. Now that Gendry’s eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit space he recognised the one-armed man that Master Mott had described to him. Although Mott had not mentioned the beer belly, he easily spotted the flat, broad nose, the bristle chin and the pinned up sleeve.

“I think you know my father rather well. At least if you are the Donal Noye that Master Mott mentioned when he taught me how to forge my own warhammer.” 

“Aye, Donal Noye, that would be me. You are right. I knew your father back in Storm’s End. Tobho Mott will certainly have told you that I made that fateful warhammer for him that killed Prince Rhaegar. You really apprenticed with Mott? That is a steep recommendation.” Noye’s eyes hadn’t left Gendry’s face.

“I was fortunate enough to apprentice with him for several years.” Gendry replied not minding the armourer’s stare. He was relieved enough that Noye sounded a bit friendlier now.

A warhammer you forged yourself, you said? Did you bring it to the Wall by any chance? I might be wanting to have a look at it.” 

I can fetch my hammer after lunch if you like.” Gendry said obligingly.

“Now boy, tell me, what do you need my forge for?”

“To melt volcanic glass daggers and forge them into arrowpoints and spearheads. I need to find the best procedure to keep the material strong. Find a way to make it stronger if possible. Perhaps by adding a small quantity of iron to it? I want to experiment a bit before newly mined material arrives. That way when I make larger pieces like for instance axe heads, large daggers and stuff like that, I can make sure that they don’t break on impact.”

“Sounds like you want to use my workshop for more than just one day?” Noye remarked in his gruff voice.

“It can’t be helped. Weapons made of volcanic glass are desperately needed to fight the army of the dead. We are lucky enough that my friend can provide us with more of this material. It is vital that we arm the men of the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk with it.”  
Gendry was glad that he had been warned by Cotter Pyke that the blacksmith could be difficult at times. He held his own when the man looked sceptical and took his time to react. 

“What was your name again, boy?”

“Gendry. I came by ship with the entourage of Jon Celtigar to help fight the dead that ambushed Benjen Stark.”

“You came with that dragonrider? You? The offspring of King Robert? How did that come about?”

“That’s a long story. Besides, I didn’t know who my father was until Jon Celtigar told me. Do you really think names or even allegiances south of the Wall are important when we have to face the army of the dead?”

“They should not be. Not here at the Wall anyway. You are a proficient blacksmith, you claim? Tell me, how would you fix this blade? See the damaged edges over there? I’ve used several ways already to fix the problem. Each time the owner brings it back in after a few days. Each time the damage is worse than before.”

“Can I hold it?” Gendry accepted the sword and studied it closely in an effort to determine the quality of the steel. Not looking up he asked. “Can you describe the exact colour this metal gets when heated? More orange, more red? What kind of wood do you use to stoke the fire of your forge?” 

 

When Jon checked in on Gendry, he found both men discussing terms he had never heard of. Neither man looked up. Jon slipped back outside unnoticed and closed the door. It seemed Cotter Pyke had been wrong to worry about the armourer’s reluctance to share his domain. His friend seemed to be getting on well enough with the man. He went back to the west tower to reassure Davos that Gendry and the blacksmith were doing just fine.

Davos had been flabbergasted when they had learned that Jeor Mormont had not taken the few dragonglass daggers that the Night’s Watch possessed with him. It seemed that now that Maester Aemon was no longer there to provide counsel, either nobody had given decent advice to the Lord Commander or that headstrong man didn’t listen to anybody but himself and had been in too much of a hurry to remember to take these very useful weapons with them. 

They had not hesitated to take advantage of this oversight. Davos had encouraged Gendry to experiment with the small amount of the material. Soon enough newly mined dragonglass would arrive and then they could replace these old daggers with new ones well before the Lord Commander’s return. 

With Noye watching on, Gendry had immediately melted the small amount of dragonglass down. When he finished reworking the available material, Gendry proudly presented almost fifty arrow points and a few spearheads that he had fashioned from the handful of daggers. Even with his skills and Noye’s experience it had taken a few tries but now he mastered the exact procedure to handle the delicate material and come up with a product that didn’t shatter on impact. 

Word arrived that a ship from Dragonstone full of dragonglass was on its way to the Driftmark. As ordered, some of the material would be left behind at the Driftmark for Jon to pick up, before the ship set course to Eastwatch. The message mentioned that they were willing to send more if needed. 

A scroll from Prince Oberyn informed them that he would be crossing the borders of the Northern Kingdom and planned to stay a few days at Greywater Watch before continuing his journey north. Varys reported that matters in the capital had come to a standstill. The rumours about the dragons were dwindling down. Even if some people insisted there were now one or two small dragons in the world, nobody really believed that they posed a threat to Westeros. 

Ser Gerold announced their safe arrival at White Harbour but his message contained nothing else of significance. Reports from their allies in the Riverlands told them the situation had somehow stabilised and House Frey was keeping a low profile for the time being. Not a single message from Dany though. Jon decided to entice her into writing him by sending her a long message detailing the new developments at their end, without revealing Ser Barristan’s destination.

The fifth day of their stay in Castle Black, an urgent message arrived from Eddard Stark at Winterfell. It described the assassination attempt on Bran during the royal visit. After much debate, Jon overruled everyone’s objections and just told them his decision was final. He would use his dragons to fly to Winterfell to speak with Lord Stark covertly. From there he planned to continue on to the Driftmark to pick up the first batch of dragonglass that was left there for him. He would also take the opportunity to make an overnight stop at Greywater Watch. It was the ideal place to take some necessary rest and at the same time get an updated report of the situation in the Riverlands, the Vale and the Crownlands. His main argument was that in this manner he would obtain detailed, up to date reports on the situation and he could discuss possible actions on the spot with Lord Stark and Lord Reed. The encrypted messages they had received thus far were always rather brief reports and to exchange ideas was not very practical since there was always the delay before you received a reaction. Discussing matters by raven took time and resources.

This time Ser Arthur and Sandor joined Davos and were rather vocal to express their objections. Ever since it became clear that sending someone with their Prince on his dragons was not an option anytime soon, they had realised that they would not always be able to keep up with Jon’s movements. This time Jon would fly further than ever before and some of it over hostile territory.

After Jon had left them to check on Gendry, the two Kingsguards discussed their options with Davos Seaworth. The situation at Castle Black was still volatile and the imminent arrival of Prince Renly and perhaps now also Jaime Lannister presented an extra dilemma. Nevertheless, they all opted to stay at the Wall for the time being. 

As Jon had proposed, they drafted a message to Jaremy Rykker to ask the King Beyond the Wall to agree to a preliminary meeting without Lord Commander Mormont or any other representative of the Night’s Watch. They stated it would benefit both parties if Jon’s entourage could establish a rapport with the leaders of the Free Folk before a stubborn third party entered the negotiations. Upon agreement of the Free Folk, a date would be set as soon as the dragonrider got back from his trip south.

Before Jon flew off to Winterfell, Jon and Davos had withdrawn to Davos’ bedroom to drawn up a list of topics to discuss with Eddard Stark so Jon would not forget to address any of their current issues. When they were finished, Davos sighed. He looked over to his Prince, the worry apparent in his eyes. At Jon’s questioning look he spoke up. 

“You do realise that this time you will be travelling on your own across a large part of Westeros. This will be your most ambitious flight by far. It would make me feel so much better if you could take someone along with you on Rhaegal. Why have you not tried once more to let Gendry mount him?” Davos saw Jon stiffen.

“Although Gendry is the only one who could touch Rhaegal without obtaining severe burns, be it because of his small percentage of dragonblood or owing to the fact that he worked close to the fires of a blacksmith’s workshop during his formative years, he still sustained minor burns that itched for days. And that was only after a short period of contact. Imagine taking him with me on a flight that lasts half a day or longer.” Jon was quick to retort

“Is there no way around that? Use protective clothing or some other genius idea?” Davos was not giving up this quickly.

“My main reason not to attempt this again is because of Rhaegal’s wellbeing. I explained to you already how I had to warg into him to keep him calm enough to let Gendry touch him. Rhaegal had to make a conscious effort to reduce his surface heat so he would not hurt him more than he already did. This endeavour gave the dragon a severe headache that lasted the rest of that day. I felt his frustration and unhappiness afterwards and I promised him he would never have to go through that again. So no, I will not try that again. Dragons are not made to be ridden by just anyone, Davos. I have a bond with Rhaegal and we open our minds to each other when we fly together. That way it is a relaxing and rewarding experience for the both of us. It is a consensual relationship and I will never presume to use my dragons just as beasts of burden that are at my disposal. They are my equals, my family. Their wellbeing is paramount to me.”

“Well if you put it that way, I guess I will have to resign myself to the situation. I do not like it however. I feel as if we are failing because we can’t keep up with you and we are not always on hand when you need our counsel.” Ghost who had rested at Jon’s feet this entire time made a whining sound.

Jon petted his wolf and tried to comfort him by sending the thought to him that no matter where he flew off to, he would always come back to him. Ghost was part of his family, his pack as much as the dragons. Out loud he reacted to his loyal Hand’s statement. 

“I know, Davos. That is the part about this that I hate as well. But since it can’t be helped, I advise you to focus on the positive aspects of this situation. We have a great advantage over our enemies. We can communicate between the different corners of Westeros much more efficient than they can. We can hear about a development days, sometimes moons before them if we prevent ravens to fly between our adversaries. Take the Vale for instance, if Lord Royce can successfully sabotage the ravens, the opposition in King’s Landing will know much later what exactly is happening there and we are the only ones with this intelligence.” Lord Stark had written how they suspected Littlefinger was playing Lysa Arryn and that they would try to prevent the two of them from communicating.

“I uderstand all that. I still do not like you flying about the continent on your own. However, I’ll try my best to accept it most grudgingly. Come on, it is time for you to set off. I know that you will want to say your goodbyes to Ghost and us petty humans. I have sent Stokeworth to fetch Gendry.” He gestured for Ser Arthur and Sandor to approach.

They all waved at Jon when he flew south to Winterfell. 

***

Jon enjoyed the long flights on his dragon. He had been shocked to hear of all the events that had taken place at Winterfell but focused on the good memories of seeing Lord Stark and Robb again. His stop over at Greywater Watch had been fruitful and had the extra bonus of seeing Prince Oberyn again and meeting his daughter Nymeria. The stop at the Vale had yielded the planned effect but the heart-warming welcome he received from the people at the Driftmark had been the highlight of this journey. 

Jon hadn’t minded the few days he had been stuck on the island waiting for a change in weather so the clouds would camouflage his long trek back to the North. He had visited his elderly foster grandmother again who had been delighted by his visit. The inhabitants of the village had pampered him. They were excited to hear Dragonstone would soon be in Targaryen hands again. They had all pledged their fealty to their True King on the spot. Jon who had always considered the Driftmark as his home told the people as much in his elaborate thank you speech. He ended with asking them to keep his secret for a bit longer and assured them that they would always have a special place in his heart. He urged them not to hesitate to contact him if ever they were in need of assistance. 

He had to use all his restraint not to take his dragons east and fly to Daenerys. His last night at the Driftmark, he had dreamt of her. In his dreams she had looked ethereal, otherworldly. She had floated ever so slowly to him. It had taken an almost unbearably long time before he could finally reach her. His touch had somehow transformed her. She had become solid and even more beautiful before his very eyes. Her vice-like grip was painful however and too strong for him to get loose of his own accord. She had whispered to him never to let her go. When he tried to tell her that he really needed to leave for a short time still, she had transformed once more in an elf like creature and had floated up in the air where Jon couldn’t reach her. No matter what he shouted at her, she didn’t seem to hear him. She became gradually more transparent until she dissolved into thin air. 

Jon had awoken in a cold sweat, his heat beating so fast he instinctively put his hand on his chest as if to prevent the organ from bursting through his skin. He had to forcefully remind himself of all the reasons why it would not be wise to go and see her now even though he was only a half a day flight away from Pentos. He wondered how she was coping with the news of uncle Aemon’s death. The only thought that offered him some comfort was that he knew for certain that it would not be long now before they would meet each other again. If the winds were favourable, Ser Barristan was scheduled to arrive in Pentos two or three sennights from now. The next time he flew south it would most likely be to visit her on Dragonstone.

He diverted his mind by plotting out a course north for his return journey that took him over the Narrow Sea most of the time. He planned to catch a glimpse of the ships that were escorting Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam to the Driftmark. He would try to deliver them the latest news in a direct and original way. He had fabricated a small bow and had fixed copies of his messages to several arrows. He hoped one would safely find its mark. He had calculated the ships would be passing the shores of the Vale of Arryn by now. 

A test flight with Rhaegal burdened by the two heavy bags of dragonglass made it clear that they would not be able to fly at their normal speed. The dragon needed to make an extra effort to keep his stability up in the air. Jon had used the same tactic as before, knotting the bags together and positioning them on Rhaegal’s back and flanks so they kept each other balanced and Jon could sit on the flat part of the bags where they were connected to each other to keep them from shifting during the flight. It was not the extra weight that hindered Rhaegal’s flying abilities, the dragon was strong enough by now but it was rather awkward flying with two large bulges. Rhaegal’s lean shape that kept him aloft and allowed him to move quickly through the air, was disturbed by the two large bags filled with dragonglass.

Rhaegal insisted on helping his rider and would not hear of leaving the bags behind. Jon was glad he could feel everything Rhaegal felt and reduced the load of the bags by half. Their last test flight reassured both the dragon and its rider that it would be feasible to fly the reduced amount of the precious material the entire way north without endangering themselves.

Soaring over the Narrow Sea it was easy for Jon to recognize his ships when he used his spyglass and an opening in the clouds. The fleet was taking the official shipping route that lay far enough from the shoreline so as not to be visible from the mainland. There was only the minimal required crew present on the decks since it was raining heavily. Jon had to either change his delivery plan or wait for drier weather to prevent the messages from becoming unreadable. Seeing no other ships nearby, he tucked the arrows safely under his coat and doublet, made a dive and circled over the ships. He heard the ship bells ring when he descended again to reach a spot above the clouds and more importantly above the rain. When he used his spyglass once more he spotted several extra figures appearing on the decks. 

He was still pondering his options when all of a sudden rather miraculously the heavy rain stopped and the small openings between the clouds grew wider. Jon asked Rhaegal to dive a second time. He also requested his dragon to reduce his speed and keep his body steady, perhaps hoover over the ships if possible so Jon could release his grip and take out the bow and arrows with both hands. 

Rhaegal just puffed some smoke, annoyed that his human still doubted his skills after all their joint flying sessions. He proudly showed him just how steady he could keep his body even with the extra baggage. Jon sent elaborate thanks to placate his dragon. Viserion flew figures around the ships amusing the men on board with his antics now that they were all made aware that the dragons were their allies. Jon shouted a greeting at Ser Gerold and aimed his arrow at an empty spot on deck praying he would not hurt anyone. His first shot missed and the arrow with its message landed in the water drifting away on the waves. His second shot hit the deck and Jon shouted they should retrieve the scroll before it got soaked. By now Sam had also arrived on deck and waved at Jon. Jon made one final run over the ship, waved back at Sam and flew north to continue his long trek back to the Wall. Viserion aborted his skylarking and followed his brother.

He was forced to make two overnight stops this time. The extra weight slowed Rhaegal down and the mental effort of keeping his balance tired the dragon. The extra rest was as necessary as it was welcomed by all three of them. They camped in the woods long before supper both times and enjoyed the extra leisure. Jon spent the two nights sleeping peacefully encircled by his dragons. No dreams or spectres haunted him this time. Both dragons and human arrived at their destination relaxed and happy. 

His mood was in stark contrast to the very troubled party he found when he arrived at Castle Black. They had been worried sick because he had arrived days later than his original schedule. 

After being smothered within an inch of his life, he gently reminded them that as long as he needed to keep a low profile and had to wait to use either cloud cover or darkness to mask his whereabouts, it was impossible to accurately plan the durations of his travels. 

No counterargument was uttered, they were only too glad he understood the importance of stealth and safety.

Gendry welcomed the two heavy bags and was elated when he saw the superior condition of the freshly mined volcanic glass. He was certain he could get a high quality end product now that he had first rate material to work with instead of those few daggers who could well have been thousands of years old. The young blacksmith immediately returned to the workshop where he had been working side by side with Donal Noye almost every day. Stokeworth accompanied him to organize the transport of the dragonglass.

That left Benjen, Davos, Ser Arthur and Sandor to discuss the new information Jon had gathered and the altered situation at the Vale. Jon also notified them that Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed were on their way to Winterfell, the latter to fetch Bran Stark who would be fostered at Greywater Watch for a few years. He told them about Bran’s revelations after his fall and how Howland Reed had confirmed that Bran was the only Stark to have the potential to become a powerful warg and would greatly benefit from his tutoring. The others would be asked to keep up the beginners exercises Jon had taught Robb. That way they still could develop their bond somewhat and communicate feelings with their respective direwolves while awake.

It was not a big surprise that Gendry decided to stay behind when two days later they left Castle Black to travel to the Free Folk settlement for the planned preliminary meeting. Cotter Pyke adhered to Jeor Mormont’s restrictions and did not send a representative of the Night’s Watch along with them. So the party that set out overland consisted only of Jon, Ghost, Benjen Stark, Davos Seaworth, Ser Arthur, Sandor Clegane and Gylles Stokeworth. It was a merry party that undertook the two days journey. Although it was cold beyond the Wall, everyone had enough furs. It was dry and sunny for a change, the landscape was beautiful and the journey not a dangerous one. Also, it lent a feeling of safety to have two large dragons in the vicinity to help them reach their destination. 

When they dismounted just outside of the settlement, Jon noticed the approach of Tormund and Jaremy Rykker. They had seen the dragons circling overhead and had come to look for them. Tormund in his normal exuberant way was about to topple Jon when Sandor sprang between them. “What the fuck.” He exclaimed when Tormund unceremoniously tried to push him aside.

“It’s okay, Sandor. Please meet Tormund Giantsbane, who is the right hand of the King Beyond the Wall but more to the point, he is also a very good friend who wants to greet me. Jon gently pushed Sandor aside and embraced Tormund. “I’ve brought my guards this time. So keep your manners in check a bit?” he patted Tormund’s back before ending their embrace.

“Sorry big man,” Tormund apologised to Sandor after he had released Jon. “I am just overly glad to see my new best friend has decided to come back to us. Any friend of Jon the Dragonrider is a friend of mine. He stepped forward ready to pull Sandor Clegane against his chest as well.

“Ho ho there,” Sandor put his hand forwards a reticent expression on his face. “Hold your horses, I am no hugger, never have been, no offence, giant man.”

“Ha ha, I am no giant, burnt man. Wait till you meet my friends Mag the Mighty and Wun Wun tonight. Those nice fuckers are real giants.” Tormund had forgone the hug and satisfied himself by patting Sandor Clegane’s left shoulder, ignoring the exasperated expression of the man.

Ser Arthur watched the scene from atop his horse. He had instantly known that no interference was needed. He had recognised Tormund Giantsbane by Jon’s elaborate descriptions and remembered Rykker vaguely from his youth. Another sign that had reassured him was how he had witnessed Ghost had chosen to sniff the two men in a friendly manner instead of preventing them from approaching Jon. He dismounted at leisure, confident that his Prince was not in any danger. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he was accosted by the man that he presumed to be a former Targaryen bannerman.

“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Ser Arthur. My name is Jaremy Rykker. Perhaps you remember me?” The man looked at the famous knight with hopeful eyes.

“Indeed, I remember we spend some time together at Dragonstone during a tournament when we were both a lot younger. I am sorry you ended up serving at the Wall.”

“I was so glad to hear the three of you survived and were able to protect and raise Prince Rhaegar’s son. I would have given my right hand to serve him all these years.” Jaremy Rykker was taking in every detail of Ser Arthur’s attire and his eyes rested on his sword by the end of his speech.

“Is that?”

Ser Arthur obliged the man, feeling genuinely sorry for his forced exile. The ringing sound of his sword leaving the scabbard drew the attention of the rest of the party. Sandor Clegane immediately went for his weapon as well. Tormund looked around sweeping his long hair left and right, however the wild look left his eyes when he noticed the extraordinary colour of the sword that was now being admired by the two men. 

“It’s just your fucking knight showing of his rich cunt’s sword.” He reassured Sandor. “Put your weapon away. You sure as hell won’t need it here. You will be able to use your other pointy thing though. The women here love men that are strong and have seen real battles. You look the part, my burnt friend. You will have to fight off the more horny ones if you are reluctant to hug them as well.”

Sandor just grunted in response but Tormund spotted the interest in the man’s eye. “Follow my lead tonight and I’ll get you laid as many times as you can handle. That’s the only fucking thing where my new friend the Dragonrider comes up short. He has yet to satisfy a pussy here. Not by lack of trying on their part. I can fucking swear to that.” Tormund threw his arm around Sandor’s shoulder. “Come, I’ll show you to your tent. Your southern King is protected by his wolf and the other men in your party. Let us get to know each other.”

Jon winked at Sandor and Ser Arthur waved him off. The two large men left together but only after Sandor had pointedly removed Tormund’s big hand from his shoulder. “Keep your fucking hands off me and I will gladly let you lead the way, tiny giant.”

***

That night around a large bonfire the new arrivals were requested to tell a story. When Davos started to describe their victory of the battle against the Ironborn, he was loudly booed by the Free Folk. His stupefaction made Jon and Tormund erupt in laughter. “I am sorry Davos.” Jon tried to explain between bouts of laughter. “I have told that story several times and from every angle I could imagine already. You will have to think of something else.” 

Ser Arthur proceeded to tell them about southern tournaments describing the joust and the melee in detail. Just like Jon on his first evening, he was stopped after almost every sentence to explain terms the Free Folk were either unfamiliar with or had trouble to understand. They certainly struggled with the concept of someone fighting their best friends and potentially hurting him rather badly even risk killing him for money.

Jon used the opportunity to catch up with his uncle. They made sure their whispers didn’t disturb the evening’s entertainment. Both men were glad they got to spend a bit more time together. It had been frustrating lately how events always seemed to pull them apart faster than planned. 

It was rather late when Ser Arthur finally finished his tale and everybody decided to retire. Jon’s party had brought their own modest tents but were ushered to a large tent that Tormund had confiscated to accommodate the friends of the Dragonrider.

The next morning, Mance Rayder made his appearance. He had been absent the previous night to tend to a dispute in a nearby settlement of the Thenns.

“Craster’s Keep you say?” He asked Davos when introductions were finished and they had all gathered in his tent for the formal meeting. “Is the old bugger still alive then?”

“You know of him?” Benjen Stark asked the leader of the Free Folk. “The Night’s Watch uses his facilities sometimes when they need to renew their provisions on long ranging missions and sometimes trade with him exchanging furs or other small items for food and drink.”

“Well, I know enough not to go near the man.” Mance replied his voice betraying his disgust for Craster. At the perplexed expressions of most of his new guests he addressed Benjen Stark. 

“Do not tell me the Watch doesn’t know of the man’s despicable habit of fucking his daughters before they have even flowered and in every way possible. Considering the time he has been at it, some of the girls he uses are technically also his granddaughters. A few of them have managed to escape and live amongst us now. And if his treatment of his daughters isn’t bad enough to condemn the man, you should hear what he does to his sons.”

Jon looked at uncle Benjen, a worried look on his face. “Were you aware of all of this, Uncle? What about his sons?”

“I’ve never been to Craster’s Keep myself, Jon. I only know of him from the stories the men of the Night’s Watch tell me. They often complain how they are not allowed to even look at his daughters. One brother of the Watch almost lost his head because he smiled at one of Craster’s daughters from a distance if his version of the story is to be believed. They never once mentioned the existence of sons. I just thought the man had fathered nothing but daughters.” Benjen Stark looked at Mance Rayder now clearly wanting him to explain what was the deal with Craster’s sons. 

The man just looked at him, not disguising his disbelief and hostility. Since not a word was forthcoming from the King Beyond the Wall, Benjen Stark addressed him directly, in an effort to defend himself.

“Please remember, I am not a brother of the Night’s Watch, Mance Rayder. I visit the Wall occasionally as the official liaison so named by my brother, the Warden of the North. The scouting mission with your representatives was the first time I ventured more than a day’s walk beyond the Wall. I have never been to Craster’s Keep myself. Now will you please reveal to us why the Free Folk avoid that man?” Benjen stared Mance Rayder down until he saw the man acquiesce.

“We do not know for sure what happens to his sons. From the two women who escaped his household we know that he leaves his male offspring outside in the cold. There is a rumour going around though that is believed by most of the Free Folk. And those who do not believe it outright fear it might be true anyway.”

“Fucking say what you want to say already.” Sandor burst out. He was hungover and was getting tired of making sense of this stupid conversation where everyone seemed to beat about the bush.

“My new friend has the right of it, Mance. You are talking like a fucking southerner now. Just come right out with it already and say that we think the daughter-fucker has a deal with the White Walkers and offers his new-born sons up to them. The rumour is not so far-fetched now that we all know these cunts really do exist.” Tormund was quick to back up his new drinking buddy’s outburst.

“It makes even more sense now that we know that for some reason a small part of the army of the dead led by a White Walker is heading in the direction of Craster’s Keep as we speak. Perhaps their purpose is to collect a new male baby.” Jon built on Tormund’s reasoning.

“The Lord Commander and his large scouting party will not be welcome to witness that deal.” Davos muttered. “I hope he doesn’t get himself in trouble with his stubborn ways.”

“Well, he tolerated a daughter-rapist for many years to keep the peace and have a helpful outpost beyond the Wall. He’ll only get what he has coming.” Mance retorted his tone bitter. “Ever think of those poor women? Besides getting fucked senseless by their own father, if they get pregnant and have a daughter they know she is destined to be raped by her father as well, and if they give birth to a boy, they have to stand aside and suffer their loss in silence whilst their baby is either left outside to freeze to death or is given to ice monsters to do with as they please.”

A silence ensued. Jon was the first to speak up after a while. “Perhaps I should,” he started.

But Davos and Benjen Stark both interfered at the same time with a resounding. “No!” 

Benjen motioned Davos that he left it to him to explain their objection.

“Not to mention the fact that you are once more thinking of recklessly rushing headlong into danger without backup, you are persona non grata with the Lord Commander already. If you interfere in his business, there is no telling how he will retaliate. He may very well deliver you to the Baratheon King on the spot.”

“Over my dead body.” Tormund had jumped up fixing them all with his bulging eyes. They still looked red from lack of sleep the same as Sandor’s but that didn’t diminish the fiery look. 

“I personally will kill that stupid cunt of a Lord Commander before he hurts the Dragonrider. Why do we need the cooperation of the fucking Night’s Watch anyway? Why wait for the stupid crows to finally show their coward arses instead of letting them delay us for several fucking moons? Why risk them driving away or even hurting our powerful new friend with his dragon, his dragonglass and his ships. We have the numbers and all the support we need thanks to my friendship with Jon the Dragonrider.” Sandor nodded vigorously forgetting for a moment that doing so hurt his head.

Benjen spoke up now and made an effort to keep his voice down and talk at a more sedate pace compared to Tormund’s fevered speech. Everyone needed to stay calm in order to come to an acceptable plan of action.

“Actually it is the task of the Night’s Watch to protect the realms of men. If you know the wording of their vow, it should be them to take the lead in this war and we should only be considered volunteers that want to help them and not the other way around.” 

“That is just a beautiful theory and not the reality we are experiencing now, Uncle.” Jon objected. “First of all they have forgotten what protecting the realms of men really means. They have had it wrong for centuries if not longer. They firmly believe their vows mean that they are to keep the Free Folk from crossing the Wall, when in fact they need to protect the Free Folk who are an integral part of the realms of men from the White Walkers and their army of dead wights.” Seeing everyone around him nod he continued.

“Secondly, the brothers of the Night’s Watch should have forsworn politics and accept the help they are offered but again that is not the case. My third and final point is that the current Lord Commander is too narrow minded and not fit to lead this war. He has proven he is unable to change his mind when he is proven wrong even if the real threat has been pointed out to him by several men by now.”

“Well he is investigating it now.” Benjen Stark defended Jeor Mormont.

“Investigating what we already know and aside from endangering his men unnecessarily he is setting us back for moons if we do nothing and just wait for him to return.” Jon countered. Tormund and Sandor both nodded their assent. Ser Arthur and Davos kept their faces neutral, clearly deciding to let the men who had seen the threat first hand do the talking for now. They all looked at Mance Rayder to find out how he would respond.

The man deliberated for a while and then addressed Jon. “What do you propose?” It seemed the King Beyond the Wall was emphasising he was willing to defer to Jon for now which sent a clear signal to Jon’s entourage.

“I would like to do some more scouting first before making a decision. If they have continued to venture further north, I will probably be gone for almost a sennight. I propose that you all use the time I am away to put your heads together and come up with ways to lure, trap and destroy the enemy. Once we know more of their whereabouts and hopefully have figured out where they intend to target us, we need to decide the exact spot we want to lure them to and set our traps.” Jon who had addressed the entire group now paused for a moment and took the time to look Mance Raider straight in the eyes. “Unless you want to wait it out and let them decided where they can overwhelm you?” 

“Of course not. I agree that we need to know more about their currents whereabouts and even their motives before we decide on a battle plan. It only makes sense that we use our time to come up with ways to entrap the dead fuckers. The rest we can decide later. I am only worried about the fact that we are just letting the dead reach Craster’s Keep unhindered where the White Walker is most likely fetching an innocent baby boy. Are we really going to sit by and just do nothing about that?” Mance looked at all the men now. 

“It can’t be helped for now.” Benjen Stark was the first to speak. “You have thousands of Free Folk families to protect. They should come first. We cannot risk antagonising Jeor Mormont further by showing up to save one soul.”

“I could at least take a quick look from high up to see what’s happening over there, Uncle.” Jon retorted.

“The skies have been clear these last few days, Jon. Mormont would spot you from miles away.” Benjen Stark was quick to point out.

“Perhaps Orell can scout the situation with his eagle while I search the far North with my dragons? Based on his findings, you can still decide whether to interfere or not.” Jon tentatively asked Mance Rayder.

“I will ask him to do just that. “ Mance Rayder was quick to agree. The man subtly conveyed his thanks to Jon for not dismissing his worries out of hand and offering a helpful suggestion.

“Just tell him Jon the Skinchanger asks for his help.” Tormund drew the attention of Mance and Jon to him. “Orell will fucking do anything for his fellow warg.”

“Well it seems we have a plan for the following days.” Mance Rayder turned towards Jon. “Dragonrider, ask Val to give you enough provisions. I have an inkling you will have to extend your search to the uncharted northern territories. Be careful for frostbite and do not rely on encountering a lot of game. The others in your party are welcome to stay with us for the time being.”

For the first time since entering the Free Folk settlement Ser Arthur looked anxious. “My Prince, I want you to promise me that you will turn back immediately when your dragons cannot find enough food to sustain themselves. Without them we don’t stand a chance here and without you, there is no Targaryen restoration. We will let you fly off without complaining if you assure us you will not take risks and come back at the first sign of trouble.”

“Hear, hear!” Davos exclaimed and the others all repeated these words.

“All right,” Jon relented. “I thank you all for your concern. I solemnly vow I will not put the lives of my dragons in danger and I am confident that they in turn will see me safely back. I will even go as far as to voluntarily make the promise not to venture farther than a few feet from my dragons when I need to dismount.”

“Now that this is settled, or as good as anyway, can you tell me whether you made any progress with your search for volcanic glass?” Mance asked curious to see if the young man was able to make good on his ambitious promises.

“We brought a small amount of arrowheads and spearpoints. They were fashioned from dragonglass belonging to the Night’s Watch but with Jeor Mormont gone I borrowed it. I also flew two heavy bags of newly mined dragonglass from the South to the Wall personally and a good friend of mine who happens to be a skilled blacksmith is fashioning more weapons as we speak. We will leave some at Castle Black but the bulk of them will be brought here as soon as they are ready.” 

Jon noticed Tormund exchange a telling look with Mance Rayder. He was not finished however. “A ship with its hold full of dragonglass is already on its way to Eastwatch. Speaking of ships, twenty eight are docked at the Bay of Ice. I expect news any day now from Eastwatch where fifty ships from Skagos should have arrived by now.”

“We won’t have to bring the clans settled at Hardhome here then.” Tormund spoke to Mance Rayder. Addressing the others he explained. “More than half of our people are currently gathered there. Hardhome is one of the most favoured places to settle beyond the Wall. The area boasts several sheltered plains with plenty of food sources. When a clan moves on, others are quick to take up the space they left. The Free Folk have even put up wooden structures to live in over there. We have been worried about their safety.”

“It still depends on the movement of the enemy how best to deal with the clans there. We will know more when we decide when and where we need to make our stand.” Mance interrupted. “But I agree that the ones who are not able to fight can stay at Hardhome and venture nearer to the shoreline so they can board the ships if the enemy shows itself.” 

Once more he turned his attention to Jon to the exclusion of everyone else. The proud man bowed his head slightly and then looked him in the eyes and praised him for all to hear. “It seems you have come through on all your promises so far. I apologise for mistrusting you before.” 

“You were wise to play it safe, Mance.” Jon addressed the King Beyond the Wall by his first name to imply he considered them equals if not friends. “I am sure Davos Seaworth here would have treated you the same way if I had not swayed him in your favour.” He watched both older men smile at each other hesitantly. 

“Not familiar with our straightforward way of talking yet?” Mance teased Davos directly now.

Tormund who had fetched ale prevented Davos from responding when he spoke up in his exuberant way. “Let us all drink to our new alliance. If those stupid cunts of Crows do not see reason, we will do their fucking job for them and you,” he pointed at Benjen Stark, “will tell that powerful brother of yours that the South owes the Free Folk their lives.”

“If all goes well,” Davos always the voice of reason cautioned them. “We have not defeated the enemy yet.” But he did not object when Tormund passed him a horn filled to the brim with ale.

“Bottoms up!” Tormund exclaimed and Sandor echoed his words. 

***

The fifth night of Jon’s continued absence Davos found Ser Arthur alone outside the settlement with Ghost by his side contemplating the stars. “Do you mind if I join you?” Ser Davos asked and threw a fur on the ground to act as a seat. “Are you not cold out here by yourself?”

Ser Arthur’s eyes reluctantly stopped watching the sky and studied the man next to him. “If you think coming here and worrying alongside me will help lift my spirits, I think you are miscalculating. The fact that you are worried as well only increases my distress.”

“Perhaps we are concerned about different things and can reassure each other?” Davos tried. “Besides Jon always tells me my presence comforts him. And I know you think too highly of your Prince to consider him a liar.” Davos tried to lighten the mood.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Work your magic and see if it helps.” Ser Arthur straightened his posture somewhat.

“Only if you promise to help me in return.” Davos was quick to retort. “What’s troubling you, son? I do not believe that you are worrying about your Prince’s safety to this extent. I can still hear you defending him to Ser Gerold when he sneaked off to the Wall that first time. You were very sure then that he would take no unnecessary risks and his that his dragons were powerful enough to protect him.”

“That is just it. He doesn’t need us to protect him most of the time. In the air he has his dragons, on the ground he has Ghost and plenty of support. I have dedicated seventeen years of my life to that boy, I love him perhaps as much as I would love a son but he doesn’t need me anymore. Not truly. I have been wandering aimlessly through this settlement for days now trying to remember the reason I volunteered so fervently to come all this way north.” He looked over to Davos to see whether the man could make sense of his conflicted speech.”

“Well, that last part, I can help you with. We came here because of the description of the ambush that threatened Benjen Stark's life. I had neither heard of an enemy that numerous nor that terrifying. And then we decide to abandon our life’s work for a while, forget about the Targaryen restoration for a few moons, only to find that this horrifying enemy has retreated to the far north and no longer presents an immediate threat. Suddenly we find ourselves with time on our hands and a very, very long distance away from our original goal and when I say distance I mean geographically.”

“That sums that part up indeed. But that doesn’t help me any further.” Ser Arthur sighed.

“I think your problem stems from the fact that you still see yourself as this stereotype Kingsguard even though Jon doesn’t. He hasn’t for a long time now, perhaps even never.” Davos stopped when he saw the man shake his head.

“I know over the years we assumed the roles of teacher and trainer on top of our duties of guarding our Prince. But he has grown up now and hardly needs our teachings any more. I am sure you heard all about how he bested me the other day. And even as a Kingsguard I only have a half time job. I have been feeling useless these past few days. Too much time to dwell on the fact that I am not that vital to his well-being any longer and can easily be replaced.”

“I just think that you are tired and have been overthinking things, Ser Arthur. Let me finish my prior explanation. Jon’s relationship with you over the years has evolved and he can’t see you becoming once more the typical Kingsguard that the members of the court will expect to see. We have spoken of the future. He literally told me he just couldn’t picture you standing in the throne room two paces behind him to his right not moving a muscle and staying silent while he listened to the petitioners.” Davos held up his hand when he saw Ser Arthur’s dejected look. 

“Let me finish this time before you react, please. Jon told me you are so much more than just a sworn sword. He sees you more as an adviser to the Crown who at the same time is a trustworthy protector and a very close friend. Let me tell you what he has come up with.”

Davos saw he had finally captured the goodwill of the famous knight with his last few sentences and quickly continued. 

“Our wise Prince realises you define yourself by how good a Kingsguard, how great a swordsman you are. However once he is the King and the realm is at peace, he is of the opinion that this role is too restricting for you. He will also want to hear your opinions and spend time with you in a less formal setting which is not possible if you are officially a knight guarding his King. He has come up with an honorary Kingsguard position. You would still be a formal member of his Kingsguard and wear the uniform at the times of your choosing but you would not be incorporated in the full rotating schedules. He will ask Ser Gerold to enlist new knights to take up the more tedious routine duties. You would still guard him at the times of your choosing, but he will ask that you attend important meetings when he requests your presence and that you will accompany him on specific outings where he wants you by his side in the capacity of a friend or an adviser and not a few paces behind him as a silent formal Kingsguard. If you want, you can also assist Ser Gerold with electing and training the new members of the Kingsguard who will have to adhere to the protocol of the court when they attend to their duties.”

Ser Arthur looked at Davos in wonder. “Jon discussed all of that with you?”

“Yes, that and more. He has spent these last few years questioning a lot of the old rules and traditions and we have been debating on the best way to change things up without creating too much opposition and still improve the lot of everyone, not only the nobles but the smallfolk as well.”

“Jon has always been on good terms with the smallfolk. I never saw him as a stuck up royal or noble.” Ser Arthur smiled. “So what you have been trying to tell me is that our Prince still wants me around, even if he will have a more new Kingsguards at his disposal?”

“That summons it up quite nicely. I guess I used too many words once again. If you are unaware of how devastated Jon would be if something happened to you or if you just upped and left of your own accord, then you are plain stupid and I will tell our dear Prince that he is making a mistake to place so much trust in your ability to understand and guide him.” Davos nudged Ser Arthur’s shoulder. “Did I work my magic? Do you feel better now?”

“If you swear to me that what you told me is the absolute truth, then I surely do.” Ser Arthur studied Davos who turned a serious face to him, not in the least bit insulted.

Davos put his right hand over his heart and solemnly vowed, “I swear it on the life of Aegon Targaryen and his future children.”

“Now that is a convincing vow.” Ser Arthur placed his hands behind his body and leaned back to look up to the stars once more but this time his posture was more relaxed. “You truly are a magician, Davos. Thank you.

“You’re welcome. Now let us see if you can help me out. Don’t worry. I do not expect miracles from you. Just a listening ear will already help me a great deal.”

Ser Arthur once more interrupted his stargazing concentrating on Davos’ problems. “Am I right in presuming your troubles stem from the thing you described so clearly at the beginning of our conversation? Being so far away from our real cause and the trouble here not being as dire for now as we originally thought?”

“See, now you are proving Jon’s faith in you is justified. That indeed is the origin of my troubles. When Dragonstone is ours and Jon flies over there and to make his claim to the throne public, we can’t have predicted every reaction of every Kingdom or even every vassal houses if loyalties split in one or several Kingdoms. He will need counsel to deal with unexpected adversities. And where will I be? Stuck travelling through half of the Kingdom desperately trying to reach the King I want to serve so very badly.”

“You can prepare and plan for most eventualities.” Ser Arthur tried to reassure the older man.

“It hardly ever happens that a situation goes one hundred percent according to plan. There are always on the spot adjustments to make at best. At worst a plan has to be thrown out of the window and a new one needs to be fabricated on the spot. Can you imagine hearing of an uprising against our Prince and not being able to reach him for more than a moon? I need to find a solution to prevent him from making his public claim until we arrive in the capital. I do not know if that is feasible however. Word of the dragons will get out and we need to act before King Robert calls his banners and imprisons Lord Stark for treason or attacks Dragonstone.”

“Perhaps you forget your trump card is Lord Stark. He will be in the South. Varys is on our side as well. They can advise Jon temporarily if necessary. And maybe you should contemplate leaving here early. The meetings you have attended have shown there is not much strategizing against this kind of brainless enemy. The dragons will play an important part in warning us of every position of the enemy well in advance and we have several possible ways to trap them. You will not be irreplaceable out here. Leave the warfare and deliberating on fighting strategies to the younger guys.”

“There will be a small contingent of the Free Folk travelling to Eastwatch to coordinate the evacuation plans and implement several defensive traps over there. If you travel with them you can take one of our ships and sail to White Harbour where you can jump on board of one of the five ship formations leaving for the Driftmark almost daily. I am not telling you to leave mind you, I am only pointing out to you that you have that option.” Ser Arthur sat back up again.

“Just think on it.” He encouraged Davos. Both men sat side by side and contemplated the stars in silence. 

Ser Arthur hesitated a while and then decided to confide his selfish fear to Davos Seaworth. “You know Davos, you worry about what difficulties lie ahead for Jon in the South. I apparently am much more selfish. One of my worst nightmares is the possibility that after the threat here is dealt with, our Prince will just fly south and if his quest for the Iron Throne goes smoothly, I will be stuck here in the North. If we leave the very same day as him and travel to King’s Landing by conventional means, even in the best of circumstances it will still take us more than a moon to catch up with him. After dedicating seventeen years of my life to his cause, I know I will be devastated if I were to miss the moment our Prince alias Aegon Targaryen ascends the Iron Throne and takes up his rightful position as the True King.”

“Me too.” Davos admitted. “That is not selfish, that is normal. We are human after all. Besides we love the boy and want to share his moment of triumph. I for one am certain he would be devastated if we were not there to witness it and would delay his coronation for both our sakes. But I hardly ever venture so far in my thoughts. I am scared to tempt fate.”

Another long silence ensued. Again it was Ser Arthur who ended it.

“I am getting tired of sitting out here and will try to catch some sleep. Hopefully our Prince will be back soon with all the information we need. Even though I really do trust him not to do something stupid, I will be very glad once he is safely back and I can go back to guarding him be it in an informal way not up to court standards.” Ser Arthur got up with a small smile on his face.

“You won’t be the only one who will be glad to see our dragonrider return, Ser Arthur. And thanks, you’ve given me some good advice and several things to ponder over. Never forget that even the very famous reputation of Sword of the Morning is not enough to describe your worth to our Prince. Perhaps I should feel threatened by you. Years of attending strategy meetings have made you a plausible candidate for Hand of the King as well. Perhaps I will leave you in charge if I decide to board a ship at Eastwatch.” He got up as well and both men walked back to the tent that they would once more share with Benjen Stark, Rykker and Stokeworth tonight. Jon of course was still somewhere far North and Sandor hadn’t slept with them for a single night since arriving at the settlement.

“Who would have thought we would see so little of Clegane. Sandor seems to be having the time of his life here.” Ser Arthur remarked.

“I hope he will still want to leave this settlement when it is time.” Davos chuckled at the thought of Sandor as a ladies man.

***

Jon returned after an absence of a sennight. Ghost was the first one at his side. The wolf tempered his greeting when he felt how exhausted his human was. Soon everyone flocked around him eager to hear the news he brought. He silently handed Davos a few scrolls explaining he had made a quick stop at Castle Black. He motioned Tormund and Sandor to take the two bags that lay at his feet. A collective gasp and some exclamations of admirations went through the small crowd when they unwrapped the masterfully crafted daggers, spearheads and axe heads. 

Jon waited for the exclamations to die down and told them his friend Gendry should receive all the credit. Then he reached into his other pocket and took out a map of the North. He kneeled down, unfolded the map and put in on the ground in front of him so all could see the markings he had made in the far north. He pointed to several markings on the map.

“They are recruiting animals now. The dead.” He clarified when he got some strange looks. “They are recruiting bears, wolves, shadow cats, basically everything they encounter that is big enough to matter. For some reason they are really far up north. It took me a while before I spotted the first wights. I can safely say it will take them more than a moon to reach us here or at Eastwatch.”

Davos who stood next to Jon with the scrolls he had just been handed looked down at Jon a questioning look in his eyes. “Castle Black, Jon? Was that wise?” he whispered only for Jon to hear.

Jon sighed. “Perhaps, I don’t know. I’ll tell you all about that after I have rested and perhaps eaten a bit. In short, Gendry is all right. The scrolls I handed to you are from Winterfell, from Ser Gerold and from Yara Greyjoy. Prince Oberyn has arrived at Winterfell and will perhaps already be on his way to Castle Black. I received a personal message from Edric inside a scroll from Robb that I need to think about and a short note from Ser Gerold that just confirms their safe arrival at the Driftmark. No mention of the situation on Dragonstone yet. Yara reports Euron Greyjoy is sailing past Dorne and is rumoured to be heading for the Stormlands. Nothing from Varys, a short message from Lord Stark sent from somewhere on the Narrow Sea, nothing from Pentos.” 

Davos noticed Jon’s dejected look when he finished his brief report. He knew all too well Jon was worried about the lack of news from Pentos. He dismissed everyone for the time being and ushered Jon inside their tent. Ghost nudged Davos aside and entered the tent as if it was his divine right. 

Davos looked at Ghost and belatedly asked, “Jon, are your dragons all right?”

“They will be when they can hunt some proper food. It was not easy to find large game once we were close to the enemy. The dead really decimated the wild life up there.” Jon removed his coat and looked for a place to put it. 

Davos took the heavy cloak from him, folded it and put it in an empty corner. “Sit down, son. I’ll see to it that some hot water is brought to you and some food as well. Rest first. We can talk later. Nothing is that urgent. Is there anything else you need for now?” 

Jon sat down and signalled Ghost to put his head on his lap. He absently stroked the fur of his direwolf’s neck when he questioned Davos with a worried look on his face. “Davos, where is Uncle Benjen?” 

“He volunteered to go check on Gendry and to collect the messages at Castle Black. Could he have seen you fly past him, do you think?” Davos looked expectantly at his Prince.

“I didn’t take the trouble to look. I am sorry. I had done nothing but scan the ground for a sennight and was taking it easy on that part of the flight. I don’t even remember if there was cloud cover the entire time. I only recall that I flew above the clouds when I approached Castle Black. I am sorry, Davos.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know your uncle was down there and you’ve certainly been doing the heavy lifting for now.”

Rykker and Val entered the tent at that point. Rykker brought a bucket of hot water and Val a steamy dish that smelled heavenly to Jon and some ale as well. Davos accepted the refreshments from Val, told Rykker where to leave the bucket and then gently ushered them out while conveying his thanks.

He sat down next to Jon and looked at him. “Castle Black, Jon? Did Ser Jaime or Prince Renly spot the dragons? Did they confront you?”

Jon looked at his plate, trying to think of a good reason to postpone talking about this subject but not finding one. “Perhaps we should ask Ser Arthur to join us for this conversation. I am in no mood to explain myself more than once.”

Davos looked at him as if trying to read all the answers from his face. When his eyes fell on the plate of food that was still untouched, he relented.

“Come on, son. Your food is getting cold. Eat something and refresh yourself. I’ll fetch Ser Arthur and will return when you had ample time to finish your dinner and cleaned yourself up a bit.”

Jon nodded and looked at his plate again.

When Davos returned with Ser Arthur, they found their Prince passed out from exhaustion in the same spot where Davos had left him, his direwolf slumbering next to him. At least the plate of food was half empty. Davos took the heavy cloak back from where he had put it earlier and covered the young man. 

Now he would have to wait to hear what had happened exactly at Castle Black. He only hoped the situation did not need immediate attention and that Benjen Stark would not enter a hornet’s nest unknowingly.

 

 

**Interlude 18: Breaking the stalemate**

 

The view was simply majestic. Although he had studied the map of Westeros and had expected that the carved out coastlines of the Fingers in the Vale would be quite picturesque, nothing had prepared him for the impressive sight the mountains of the moon formed. He admired the vast chain of mountains with impressive peaks that were close-knit. Each mountain top seemed to strive for dominance over its neighbour. No wonder the area had never been conquered by a conventional army. It looked impenetrable. 

The Eyrie itself was situated on the highest peak. Jon looked at it from afar but kept to the plan and descended just enough to fly at a slow pace between the mountains ridges. Both dragons made sure to stay out of view of the fortress to land in the woods near the Bloody Gate. Confident that Lord Stark would have given Lord Royce at least a hint of his arrival he walked up to the Gate alone. He was aware that Rhaegal was peeking through the bushes, his green head hardly visible to the unsuspecting eye. Viserion had reluctantly agreed to keep his distance for now.

The first part of the plan went smoothly. Lord Royce was summoned and Jon had little trouble persuading the man that he was not a threat but a most welcome ally that was capable of breaking the stalemate in one fell swoop. His resemblance to Lord Stark was the most helpful factor. Lord Royce admitted his first thought upon seeing the young man was that the rumours were true and that he stood before the son of the deceased Brandon Stark and the rightful heir to Winterfell. 

For once Jon did not hesitate. Following Howland Reed’s instructions he revealed his true parentage. He stressed that his uncle, Lord Stark with the collaboration of several powerful allies had been laying the groundwork for a Targaryen restoration for seventeen years already. He quickly refuted the lies that were spread about his parents’ relationship and gave a short summary of what really had happened in the aftermath of the Rebellion. He convinced him that they were on the verge of taking the throne away from Robert Baratheon with minimal bloodshed and that an important step in their plan was to take Littlefinger out of the game. Although they had sufficient evidence, a confession from Lysa Arryn would seal the traitor’s fate irrevocably. 

The loyal knight of the Vale was totally on board when Jon promised that in exchange for his support he would name Lord Yohn of House Royce the regent of the Vale until Robin Arryn was old and healthy enough to take over his duties. In any event Lord Yohn Royce was guaranteed a position on the small council as soon as Jon or rather Aegon Targaryen was officially proclaimed King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Soon enough two dozen knights led by Lord Royce were making the ascent. Just before they reached the steep, narrow mountain path where they might come under attack from the archers or be besieged by stones or oil, Jon showed up with his two dragons. He easily neutralised the handful of guards that half-heartedly defended the fortress because they were left now choice by their increasingly irrational Lady. They stood down at his first command and looked almost relieved in spite of the uncommon view the two large dragons made. 

Jon left Viserion in place and ascended the rest of the mountain until he could circle over the inner courtyard. As predicted by Reed, Robin Arryn came running up to him, excited to see a real life dragon. Jon trapped the boy in the corner of the courtyard with Rhaegal’s large body. The dragon’s tale barricaded the door the boy came through so no one else could enter the courtyard from inside the castle. Jon dismounted and talked to the boy of the amazing things he saw when he flew over Westeros and reassured him that the dragon was very friendly if he behaved. He gave Rhaegal a few minor commands, like puff some smoke, lift your head toward the sky and breath a small flame, nod yes, shake no. The nine year old clapped his hands after each trick and Jon had trouble answering all his questions since the young Lord hardly listened to any of his answers before coming up with a new one.

When finally Yohn Royce climbed into the courtyard from the mountainside the little boy was quite enthusiastic to see the knight and asked if he had finally arrived to teach him to fight with his new sword. The knight easily lifted the boy in his arms and promised him that from now on he would receive daily lessons. The boy clapped his hands once more and gave Lord Royce a kiss on his cheeks. “I told mama you would come to see me but she wouldn’t believe me. Can I visit your place and play with all the children again?” Jon looked flabbergasted. Everything went literally as Lord Reed had told him. Never before had a vision of Lord Reed been so detailed and so accurate. He instructed Rhaegal to release his hold on the door and the knights that had made the ascent with Lord Royce soon had Lysa Arryn in custody. 

A satisfied Lord Royce smiled when he told Jon that there was not a single casualty and that all the guards that had been forced to defend the Eyrie had immediately surrendered to him and been pardoned. 

Jon stayed at the Eyrie that night and cemented his bond with Lord Royce. They decided that Bronze Yohn himself would lead the party that escorted Lysa Arryn to King’s Landing to stand trial. Once there Royce would ask for a private audience with Lord Eddard Stark. Depending on the outcome, the Vale would either pledge their support to the Targaryen cause or stay neutral. He also promised to make every effort to convince his people not to spread rumours about the presence of dragons at the Vale and Lord Royce would keep Jon’s parentage a secret for now. Jon left for the Driftmark with the assurance that at the very least the knights of the Vale would not take up arms against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:  
> Is it Varys or Littlefinger that will be humiliated in chapter 19?  
> In the interlude Jon for once lets his feelings take over from his brain. He confronts Jaime Lannister at Castle Black.


	19. The trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it Varys or Littlefinger that will be humiliated in this chapter?  
> In the interlude, Jon for once lets his feelings take over from his brain. He confronts Jaime Lannister at Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes change GRRM’s characters a little bit. I did this time with Robin Arryn and to a small extent with Lysa Arryn as well. In my universe Robin is a kind child of mediocre intelligence but his unconventional upbringing has hindered his development and he is more childlike than his peers.
> 
> Once more a huge thanks to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr!

The wind blew hard out here on the open water. Eddard Stark stood at the railing on the front deck watching the waves play with the ship. It was fascinating for a man who lived on land his entire life to see how easily nature lifted the large, heavy vessel up only to let if fall back to its original height just to start the process all over again. During this voyage the Lord of Winterfell had learned he had sea legs and no matter how rough the sea got, his stomach never felt the tiniest bit queasy. Ned welcomed the feeling of the wind sweeping past his face and didn’t mind that it put his hair and clothes in disarray. It had a refreshing effect. It felt as if the wind lifted up his troubles and they seemed significantly lighter somehow when they fell back into place. It was no wonder he often found himself at this spot. Mostly they left him alone out here. The southerners of the royal retinue didn’t like to face the elements and his northern guards knew of his habits and preferences and kept a respectful distance. Ned spotted Gawen on the other side of the deck and knew the man was discreetly guarding him. That was another thing he would have to get used to. With his new position and the political games in the capital, he would always have to walk around with sufficient protection. Even if the culprit who murdered Jon Arryn would be eliminated soon, there were always others who would seek to gain something by harming the Hand of the King. 

They were approaching King’s Landing and would dock tomorrow morning. He looked forward to receiving tidings from home. He wondered whether his wife’s anger had subsided somewhat by now. Their last night at Winterfell, he had made her promise not to take her frustrations out on their children. He had reminded Catelyn she just needed a bit more patience. Soon enough things would change for the better. He would invite her to the capital the very moment the situation was stable after the change in power. Everyone at the new King’s court would bow to her as the Starks would be the most prominent house in Westeros as they were the closest kin to the true King. A King that realised all too well that he owed everything to house Stark and loved them all dearly. Even if Aegon Targaryen took a wife, she still would be the second most important woman in the Realm. 

He knew his wife well enough to understand that this was the best argument he could make to soften the blow of her having to stay behind in the North. But when she took it in stride that Bran would be fostered out to Howland Reed for a year or longer, Ned had not been fooled. He saw right through her easy acceptance and was certain that she was already thinking of ways to entice Lord Reed and his family to the capital once she lived there. Well, no harm in letting her believe that she would get her way. Ned would play it step by step for now.

He worried about leaving Robb to deal with Roose Bolton. The morning of their departure, Ned had spoken briefly to the Lord of the Dreadfort. He had not outright promised to betroth Sansa to Domeric Bolton. Instead he had stalled for time by vowing on his honour of a Stark that he would not betroth his daughter to anyone else before house Bolton and house Stark reached a consensus on this matter. As proof of his good faith he had informed the Lord of his refusal to betroth his daughter to the King’s son way before the revelations of the paternity of the royal children. He had tried to convince the man that he had braved the ire of his King for the sole reason of his unfinished negotiations with house Bolton. He had demanded twelve moons respite in light of the changed circumstances and his imminent departure for the capital. He hoped his honourable reputation had swayed the man and that Robb would have no trouble in removing Roose Bolton and his retinue from Winterfell.

He was also eager to receive some news from the Wall and Dragonstone. He had several messages ready to send out in return. But most of all he wanted to hear a status report from Varys. He hoped Littlefinger had not done too much damage presiding over the small council these last few sennights. It had been a small risk he had taken to keep the man’s suspicions at bay and make him feel safe and confident enough to stay in the capital. Varys had reassured him that during a prolonged absence of both the King and his Hand, the council’s authority was limited to insignificant local matters. And if Petyr Baelish would be so stupid as to abuse his temporary position for his personal gain, it would be just another thing to use against him during his trial. 

 

One night halfway through their sea voyage, Ned and Robert had ensconced themselves in Robert’s large cabin with a large pitcher of ale as they usually did before retiring. Mostly on such occasions they discussed matters of state or reminisced over the past. That night however for some reason Robert had drunk a lot more than usual and had been rather intoxicated. This time his drunken mood had turned to self-pity. The King had cried in Ned’s arms and had lamented for most of the evening.  
“I am feeling old Ned. And what have I got to show for my life? Nothing, not a single fucking thing.”

“You are in the prime of your life Robert. You still have a few namedays to go before you celebrate your fortieth nameday and you are the most powerful man in all of Westeros. The entire realm envies you. You have plenty to show for your life.” Ned had discreetly moved Robert’s cup out of his reach.

“But I have no wife, no children. My only heirs are a fag of a brother who will not sire Baratheons and an older brother, who has no love for me. Stannis has never supported me and only has a daughter disfigured by greyscale. If I do not sire male children then House Baratheon dies with me.”

“Robert, Stannis may be a rigid, cold man but I always thought him to be honourable. If you sire no heirs there are other ways to let House Baratheon live on. You have sired plenty of male bastards already. If you legitimise one or more of them, you have someone of your precious Baratheon blood to continue your house.” Ned had immediately thought of Jon’s friends Gendry when he uttered these words. From the messages he had received he knew the boy was loyal to Jon to a fault which meant a possible heir to Storm’s End whose allegiance would be to House Targaryen.

“Bastards are despicable, Ned. They will ruin the reputation of my house.” The King eyes had turned red from crying and he had looked like a small child that felt that it had been treated unfairly.

“That’s just some dogma the faith of the Seven came up with to encourage the men of Westeros to keep it in their pants and stay faithful to their wives. Come on Robert, we are men of the world. Surely you know better than that? At least let me search for your male bastards. I’ll foster them out to noble families without revealing who sired them so they get a Lord’s education. In the very unlikely event that years from now you do not have a true-born son, I’ll arrange for you to meet them under some pretext or other and you can test their metal without revealing your motives.” Ned had done his utmost to reason with the drunken man. The conversation had continued a while longer until Robert had lost all his dignity and Ned had felt like the most dishonest man in the entire history of Westeros. 

The next morning, both men had found it difficult looking each other in the eye. Eventually it had been Robert who had broken the ice.  
“I will not touch another drop of wine or ale before we arrive at King’s Landing.” He had declared with his loud booming voice. He had lowered his voice for his next statement. “Ignore anything I might have uttered last evening, Ned. I hardly remember any of it anyway.”

The King’s behaviour though had made it obvious to Ned that the man had lied. Then Robert had put a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “I have made a resolution Ned. I will start anew. Take a beautiful wife, enjoy siring lots of heirs and make an effort to become the kind of King my new family can look up to. And how can I not succeed with my very best friend at my side.”

The King who apparently hadn’t suffered any physical repercussions of his drunken evening had enjoyed Ned’s surprise and had thumped his Hand’s shoulder again, this time with some force.  
“Come on, Lord Hand let us break our fast and start governing our realm. I vaguely recall you mentioning some ideas at the beginning of our trip.”

Robert had indeed stayed sober for the rest of the trip and together they had drafted several royal decrees they could put before the small council. With Robert this decisive and with his Hand’s support the small council’s input was a mere formality. They would just inform them of their decisions, explain their reforms and be done with it.

First and foremost the King had finally formally acknowledged his brother Stannis of House Baratheon as the Lord of Storm’s end and as the heir to the Iron Throne provided the King sired no male children. Ned had intentionally left the word ‘true-born’ out of the decree to have the loophole of legitimising one of the King’s bastards. 

Next Ned had convinced Robert to refuse the right of a trial by combat to anyone accused of conspiring against the Crown who had been found guilty through irrefutable proof. A jury of nobles who swore upon their honour to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms had to agree unanimously that the defendant was guilty without a sliver of a doubt. Ned had used the argument that no interference of the Gods was necessary if for example a murderer had committed his deed in front of several witnesses. 

Ned was glad he had also gotten the King to agree on another reform. Robert had put up some resistance at first. A new law decreed that a knight of the Kingsguard, a member of the City Watch or any armed man in the service of the Crown could be held accountable if he murdered someone without just cause or if he used his position to harm the weak, accept bribes, steal from or blackmail anyone. To neutralise Robert’s objections, Ned had added a paragraph that stated that no one would be convicted without irrefutable proof, and that every knight was proclaimed innocent until proof of his guilt was deemed undeniable by a jury of at least three nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the law.

They had also reviewed the evidence that they had gathered against Littlefinger. Ned really looked forward to that trial. He had asked Robert if he wanted to preside over the jury but Robert had told him to go ahead. Since Ned had masterminded most of the man’s downfall, the King gladly relinquished his right to his Hand. He would make the effort of attending but it would be as a spectator who only showed up to watch an amusing play not to take an active part in it.

 

***

 

Littlefinger made extra work of his appearance that morning. He checked if all his buttons were polished just right and attached the golden chain to his coat. He checked his looks in the tall mirror before him. His small pointed chin was cleanly shaven. The few threads of grey hair were camouflaged. His new tailor-made coat lent an aristocratic air to his slender build. Yes, he was ready. Ready to finally witness the demise of his long-time rival. Today was reckoning day for that bald headed upstart of a eunuch. 

After years of his schemes being thwarted, somehow the feared appointment of Eddard Stark as Hand of the King had been the best thing to happen to his campaign in years. Even before the inexperienced man arrived in King’s Landing, Petyr had already profited from the change in power. Dearest Catelyn had almost begged him in her last scroll to help her ignorant husband with the unfamiliar politics of the capital. She had described how Ned had nightmares about his new role and she had only been able to calm him down by reassuring her husband that he had an ally in the capital in Peter Baelish who was a dear friend of hers and by extension of House Stark. After reading her plea, he was confident he would be able to rule the capital through Eddard Stark. And sure enough, only days later an official decree had arrived that gave Lord Petyr of House Baelish the authority to temporarily preside over the small council in the absence of the King and his Hand. 

Varys had walked around with a dejected expression ever since and had avoided Baelish’s company as much as possible. The Master of Whispers however could not avoid the small council meetings and there Littlefinger had made him cower before him. Never before had Lord Varys been so deferential to him. Yes, Petyr had won the fight. And it had gotten even better. The first order of business of the new Hand once he had settled in at the Tower of the Hand had been to summon Lord Baelish to a private meeting. Lord Stark hadn’t hesitated to ask Petyr to make him familiar with each member of the small council’s strengths and weaknesses. Baelish had taken the opportunity to cast suspicion of treason on Lord Varys and here they were. The Master of Whisperers had been apprehended and his trial was today.

 

***

 

When Petyr Baelish entered the throne room at the very last moment so he could make a grand entrance, he was astonished to see how many people had turned up to witness the downfall of the Master of Whisperers. It appeared that every noble who had been close enough to reach to capital in time for the trial had shown up. He hadn’t realised Varys was so hated by the population of Westeros. That knowledge would have made him much happier during all those years of doubting his ability to best the man.

Eddard Stark greeted him with a nod of his head and subtly pointed to a witness stand that faced the high table and was conveniently located in the center of the open space. It would be the ideal place to sway all the jurors of the King’s Court with his carefully prepared statements. Only the day before, Lord Stark had once more emphasised in a short private interview that the entire case hinged on his testimony. He was the Crown’s most important witness. This was his moment to shine. He straightened his shoulders and like a bride entering the isle of a sept, he strode slowly but confidently to the spot where he would put the final nail in the coffin of his rival. When he arrived at the witness stand, he ignored the chair and stayed upright. He put his hands on the bannister that stood before the chair and looked expectantly at the six noble Lords that were seated at the high table. The Hand of the King rose from his chair and theatrically unfolded an unusually long scroll. 

“Lord Baelish you stand before the Hand of the King and the jurors of the King’s Court all sworn to uphold the King’s justice to answer to the charge of murder and treason. How do you answer those charges?”

Lord Baelish looked at Lord Stark embarrassed by the man’s enormous mistake. Surely he had meant to say Lord Varys when he addressed his accusation. Eddard Stark was obviously very nervous and had been confused by the sight of Petyr who stood right before him. When he saw the unwavering stare the Hand of the King fixed on him, doubt entered his mind. He turned his head left and then right frantically searching for the corpulent figure of the eunuch. He blanched when he saw the man next to the King, sitting up straight, a slight smirk on his face that was clearly meant for him.  
_‘No way in hell?! I have been played! I have been played with such brilliance that I never saw it coming. How in Seven Hells is this possible?’_ He swallowed and tried to focus his mind.  
_‘All is not lost. I am after all a master conniver, the very best at manipulating people. I will play these jurors like puppets on a string and have them apologise to me profusely afterwards. I will guilt trip them into giving me at least a Lord Paramount’s position to make up for the dishonour they are bringing down on me by their ill-fated accusations.’_

“My Lord Hand? I do not understand. Have I not always served my King to the best of my abilities? I know not of what you speak, so I can only plead innocent.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Varys’ smirk only grow more pronounced. He needed to focus. Lord Stark had started to answer and he had already missed his first words.

“... well, Lord Baelish your plea will be noted. However, to make this official, I would have you state your innocence to each of the separate accusations I will lay before you. I want you to swear upon your honour that your answers will contain the absolute truth and that you will not conceal anything from us deliberately.” 

Petyr Baelish had scrutinised Lord Stark’s stern countenance but couldn’t detect the slightest emotion. The man hadn’t blinked when he pleaded innocent. Sweat started to appear on his forehead. He abstained from the urge to reach for the very fine handkerchief he had so carefully selected for this important day. He would not show weakness. He ignored the whispers from a treasonous crowd who seemed to take pleasure in his predicament and straightened his posture even more.  
“I swear upon the honour of my house and my faith in the Seven that I will only tell the truth before the jurors of the King’s Court and will not lie by omission.” He was satisfied when he heard his voice rang firm and knew he had sounded sincere, when he heard doubts being expressed by a few voices behind him. The reaction of the crowd strengthened his belief that all was not lost.

“You stand accused of falsely implying that the Kingdom of Dorne was planning a rebellion with the help of a full grown dragon. How do you plead?” Lord Stark read the first accusation from the scroll.

“Innocent. My Lord Hand, jurors of the King’s Court, I made a grievous mistake based on reports manipulated by the Master of Whispers who is the real traitor. It is his trial we should be holding here.” He spoke each word slow and articulate. _‘This trial is nothing but a farce. They have no solid proof. I just need to stay calm and refute their stupid accusations. Casting the blame on someone else is always a good strategy, one that I master very well.’_

“These are serious charges, Lord Baelish. Do you have solid proof to put before the jurors of the King’s Court today?” Ned Stark’s reaction was clear and concise.

“No, my Lord Hand. No more than you have of my alleged nefarious intent. I acted on the best intentions and wanted to warn the King about the situation in Dorne as soon as possible. I concede that I acted a bit hasty and did not verify the rumours before speaking up but that is my only crime.”

“Noted”. Lord Stark indeed made a short inscription on the scroll. Before holding it up again and reading the second accusation. “You stand accused of conspiring with the Houses Frey, Bolton and Greyjoy to weaken the position of the Northern Kingdom.” 

“Why ever would I do that my Lord Hand? Lady Catelyn has always been a true friend to me.” Pearls of sweat appeared on his forehead.  
_‘This was unexpected. However had they gotten wind of this?’ He needed all his strength to keep the shock from showing on his face._

“A true friend you wanted to marry long before my brother appeared on the scene. My Lords of the Jury, I am not impartial here. May I ask that Lord Royce as Master of Laws takes the lead in presenting the evidence?”

Nobody objected. Soft murmurs from the audience could be heard when Lord Royce rose from his chair and accepted the large scroll from Eddard Stark.  
“May I state for the record that Lord Baelish has neither denied nor affirmed his guilt.” After a theatrical pause he read from the scroll. “The evidence consists of several messages that were intercepted before they could reach Lord Walder of House Frey and Lord of the Twins. They reveal that the accused promised House Frey the position of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands if they could weaken the position of House Tully and lure part of the Northern army that Lord Eddard Stark would surely send in support of his good family to the Riverlands. In these messages he reveals that the Ironborn will also distract House Stark by attacking the shores of the Riverlands and the North and that House Bolton will perform its part to distract House Stark as well.”

“Messages can be falsified, honourable jurors of the King’s Court. I have never written such drivel. I am true to my King and a long-established friend of the Northern Kingdom. Somebody is plotting my downfall and I already know the culprit.” Petyr turned his head towards Lord Varys who stayed eerily calm. The crowd really seemed to be on his side if he interpreted their shocked murmurs right. Petyr took heart in that.

The old Grand Maester Pycelle who was one of the jurors spoke up with his old wavering voice. “I have examined these scrolls and compared them to other writings of Lord Baelish I had in my archives. He has a distinct way of writing his capital letters P, B and L. I am convinced that these messages were written by his hand. Several turns of phrases he often uses are repeated word for word in these messages. Upon my honour of Grand Maester I proclaim with absolute certainty that these messages are written by Lord Baelish.”

“Or by a master forger.” Petyr Baelish objected immediately.

“That would imply that you accuse the Grand Maester of being incompetent.” Lord Royce was as unflappable as Lord Stark it seemed. Baelish listened with growing trepidation to his next statement.  
“We have also intercepted a scroll containing a cry for help from Lord Walder of House Frey when your messages stopped reaching his stronghold. I am sure that we can summon the head of House Frey to the capital to tell us in his own words what promises you have made him and on how many different occasions.” Lord Royce countered.

“A man will tell anything if you pay him enough gold.” He tried once more to refute the charges.

“That is certainly true of Lord Frey.” Eddard Stark interrupted. “I suggest we do not waste the time of the Crown’s Court any more than necessary and move on to more serious accusations.”

The ominous tone of Lord Stark’s voice and the intentional pause captured the imagination of the audience. You could hear a pin drop as the audience held their breath to hear what was more serious than treason. Baelish swallowed and prayed the man would get on with it so he could discredit his next ridiculous charge that was probably dreamt up by Varys anyway. 

“You also stand accused of conspiring to murder Jon Arryn, the late Hand of King Robert. How do you plead?” 

_‘Seven Hells, they had gotten to Lysa.’_ Petyr looked around and saw several men from the Vale but no sign of Lysa Arryn. He had been slightly worried she might be in the capital as soon as he had noticed Lord Yohn, of House Royce was one of the jurors. “Not guilty, my Lord Hand.” He kept his voice even. He needed to keep the crowd convinced of his supposed innocence. He saw Lord Royce hand the long scroll back to Lord Stark who immediately started to read from it.

“We have the confession of Arryn’s widow. And I quote: I murdered my Lord Husband urged by and with the help of Lord Baelish. He provided the poison ‘Tears of Lys’ that I then administered to my husband. My motives were a future marriage with Lord Baelish and the promise that he would help my son on to the Iron Throne by marrying him to Shireen Baratheon. end quote. According to Lysa Arryn, Lord Baelish somehow knew long before any of us that the royal children were not fit to succeed their father.” Lord Stark looked pointedly at him now.

Petyr swallowed. “Ravings of a mad woman. She has always wanted to get her claws into me.” He made sure he remained the picture of calm and confidence. The sweat however was now pouring down his face and soiling the shirt of his new outfit.

“And I presume her two loyal servants are mad as well according to you Lord Baelish? They confirmed everything Lady Arryn told us when we questioned them even though they were not present to hear Lady Arryn’s original confession. Even her son, the young Lord Arryn told us how you would not leave his mother alone and were always whispering in her ear when you visited.”

“All lies. Everybody knows that woman is unstable and her simple-minded son has apparently inherited his mother’s madness, the poor lad.” This time some of his panic was noticeable in the tone of his voice. Petyr felt the muscle of his face getting sore from the effort it took to keep a blank, benevolent expression on his face.

An ear-piercing shriek made everyone turn their heads to the left entrance. Lysa Arryn stood there between two guards of House Stark easily recognisable by the direwolf sigil on their gambeson. “Liar! My Sweetrobin is the kindest boy that ever lived and smart as hell. You tricked me and made a murderess out of me. I should never have believed you. You are a false snake, always polite and smiling to everyone’s face and then besmirching their reputation as soon as they turn their backs. I haven’t told my good brother and the other Lords half of what you have mentioned to me.”

“My Lords, jurors of the King’s Court, can you make that woman stop screaming, please? My ears are hurting and her testimony has no value.” Things were not going well. Petyr was starting to get desperate. _‘How could I not have seen this coming? They have seen through most of my schemes.’_

“No value, no value? I have value all right!” Lady Arryn approached the high table where the jurors were seated. She was determined to make vile lying Petyr pay for his slight against her son. She tried to keep her voice level, knowing it was very important everyone believed what she was about to say next.  
“My Lords, jurors of the King’s Court, I admit that I made many mistakes and the only thing I can say in my defence was that I was played by a masterful manipulator. I am willing to pay for my crimes but I would like to have the opportunity to present new evidence to the King’s Court.”

Total silence fell over the room. Eddard Stark looked at his fellow jurors and then studied Baelish’s demeanour. The man was pale as a ghost and sweating profusely. 

“Lysa, dearest,” Littlefinger pleaded “I love you. I only said those things because I was desperate and could think of no other way to defend myself from these false accusations.”

“Silence, Lord Baelish. You will have a chance at rebuttal after Lady Arryn has presented her information to the King’s Court.” He addressed the crowd. “I ask everyone present to remain silent.” Next Ned Stark looked at Lysa Arryn. His stern features softened visibly to give her courage. “Go ahead Lady Arryn. The Crown’s Court can hear you out now.”  
Lord Stark and everyone else was keen to hear what the woman would accuse Littlefinger of this time.

“What I am going to tell you all is the absolute truth. I swear it on the wellbeing of my only son. I have lived with the burden of this secret long enough and that vile man is no longer worth another day of my protection.” She swallowed and kept her gaze away from Petyr Baelish.

“Lysa dearest, think about what you are doing, please.” Petyr gave up all pretence of calm and sounded desperate now.

“If we hear one more word out of you before you are given permission by this Court, we will gag you Lord Baelish.” Petyr stayed silent for now but wondered at Lord Stark’s composure. The man was the epitome of justice standing there all high and mighty at his high table amongst his puppet Lords who were somehow all dancing to his tune. 

Lysa Arryn turned to face the seat where King Robert was following the proceedings.  
“Your Grace, forgive me if I am causing you pain with what I am about to reveal here, but it cannot be helped. The truth is that on that fateful night when Lyanna Stark disappeared all those years ago, she gave me a letter to hand over to her brother Lord Brandon of House Stark. I read it together with Petyr, I mean the accused, Lord Baelish. He was already paying me a lot of attention at that time, you see. In the letter Lyanna Stark explained how she had fallen in love with Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and that she planned to elope with him.”

Shouts of dismay and disbelief could be heard from all corners of the hall. “Silence!” Lord Stark’s voice deep and resonant put a halt to the exclamations. “Pray, continue Lady Arryn.” He once more coaxed her into speaking.”

“As I said, she eloped with him.” Lysa Arryn repeated. “The letter also mentioned that they planned to marry in secret as soon as the Prince succeeded in getting his marriage annulled by the High Septon. Lord Baelish persuaded me to conceal the message. Back then I was really convinced we did a good deed by not hurting your Grace’s feelings as Lyanna’s betrothed by withholding the letter. I am so sorry, my King. When things started happening and I wanted to come forward, Lord Baelish burned the letter. He laughed at me and said nobody would believe me now if I spoke up. Recently, Petyr, I mean Lord Baelish confessed to me it was all a ploy to create chaos in the realm so he could benefit in its aftermath.”

Several gasps could be heard. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder once more. The jurors were visibly shocked. Lord Stark appeared to be the only one who kept his cool. Once more he ordered the room to be silent. He had to threaten to have the spectators removed before order was restored enough for him to addressed Lysa Arryn one last time.  
“Thank you Lady Arryn. Please take a seat and keep silent during the rest of the proceedings.” A discreet nod to his houseguard and they led Lady Arryn to a seat against the left wall. Then he fixed Littlefinger with a determined stare.  
“Lord Baelish, you stand accused of plotting the Rebellion against House Targaryen and are consequently complicit to the murders of Prince Rhaegar, Lord Rickard of House Stark ruling Lord of Winterfell at that time, of Brandon of House Stark and of thousands of nobles, knights and valiant soldiers on both sides who defended their bannermen and lost their lives in the process. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, my Lord Hand. I consider the testimony of Lady Arryn as false.”

Lord Stark noticed from the corner of his eye that the King was using a small door behind his chair to leave the courtroom without drawing attention to his person. He felt for his erstwhile friend. To him the revelation that Lord Baelish had indirectly caused the death of his father and brother had been unexpected and he still reeled from the shock. The King however had been proclaimed a spurned suitor in open court. This was not a good development. He needed to keep his wits about him though. If he was not careful, that slimy bastard could still wriggle his sorry arse from under their noses. He needed to put his personal feelings this revelation had caused aside. He used all his energy to fix Littlefinger with an unwavering stare.

“Lord Petyr of House Baelish, I would be inclined to believe you if there was just one person who conspired against you. But when several honourable men from all over the Kingdom come forth with compelling evidence against you, I would be considered a fool to still believe you. The word of one man against the many.” 

“You have no right to accuse me of anything. You are nothing. You are not even the rightful Lord of Winterfell.” Again horrifying gasps could be heard throughout the courtroom.

“Lord Stark is not on trial here, Lord Baelish.” Lord Royce had risen once again. Receiving a nod of approval from the Hand of the King he continued. “Please do tell. You are accusing everyone of lying or being mad. I am curious as to what you will lay at the feet of the most honourable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Pray continue.” 

“Lord Stark has stolen Winterfell from its rightful heir. Lord Brandon Stark sired a trueborn son before he died. The young man has reached adulthood and has currently been spotted in the North. He will soon claim his inheritance and he will succeed since he has at least one dragon at his command.” 

“Can you provide proof of this fantastic tale? Is there a Septon who married Lord Brandon? Are there witnesses or documents that can prove the young man is who you claim him to be? Has the young pretender come forward? Have any of the nobles present in the throne room today been approached to support this alleged heir’s claim to Winterfell? Has anyone present here seen a dragon with their own eyes? Can anyone link the alleged heir to Winterfell to this dragon?” Lord Royce’s voice boomed loudly so even the servants standing in the back of the room could hear every word loud and clear.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. “Now is the time to speak up.” Lord Royce tried once more when nobody spoke up. “Can anyone lend credence to the tale we just heard out of the mouth of the accused?”  
Lord Royce turned his head back to Lord Stark. “You can continue where you left off, Lord Hand.”

“Thank you Lord Royce. I believe I was just about to summarise before the King’s Court the list of the most prominent persons who have come forward to accuse Petyr Baelish. This in order to refute Lord Baelish’s claim that everything was fabricated.”  
Eddard Stark held up his hand to prevent Lord Baelish from interrupting.

“I, Eddard Stark can put before the King’s Court years of correspondence between the accused and my wife. In the early years he defamed my good name and urged her to get an annulment so he could propose marriage to her himself. During that time several attempts were made on my life and even on my firstborn son. He urged her to spy for him and used several revelations that my wife in her innocence revealed to him against us, information about our trade deals or issues the North struggled with at a particular time.

Prince Oberyn of House Martell is willing to testify how he found a dead raven by the road when he travelled across the Riverlands. Attached to the raven’s leg was a message from Lord Baelish to Lord Walder of House Frey. The Prince will swear how he then proceeded to actively intercept several communications between both Lords. The word of a Prince of Dorne and the testimony of Grand Maester Pycelle should be enough to convince the sworn nobles that the messages laid out before the King’s Court earlier today are indeed authentic.

Grand Maester Pycelle not only authenticated the messages, he can confirm that the symptoms of Lord Arryn’s short bout of illness before he died were indeed consistent with the known effects of the poison called ‘Tears of Lys’. He can also show you the entry in his diary where he noted that a vial of that particular poison went missing in his cabinet. The jurors of the King’s Court have been allowed to review the entry and can all attest that on that same page it is mentioned that on the morning of that exact same day Lord Baelish visited the Grand Maester to ask for a remedy against an itch he claimed to suffer from.

Yara of House Greyjoy a leading house of the Iron Islands can be called to testify that her Uncle, Euron Greyjoy loudly proclaims that he has been promised independence from the Seven Kingdoms by someone in the capital and will wear a Crown soon. She investigated the matter and has handed the jurors of the King’s Court a scroll written by Lord Baelish that proves he is the instigator. This scroll has also been examined by Grand Maester Pycelle who swears it is written by the hand of the accused.

Lord Yohn of House Royce of the Vale can attest to Lord Baelish effectively sabotaging the education of the young heir Robin Arryn and can showcase ample examples of the accused using his influence to rule over the Vale through Lysa Arryn and going against the Crown’s orders and the realm‘s best interest.

Lady Olenna of House Tyrell came forward with evidence of several promises he made to the Reach, promises of false marriage alliances, promotions and exemptions from trade taxes the King had not granted him the authority for.

Lord Tyrion of House Lannister of the Rock accuses Lord Baelish of siphoning off funds. He has spent the last moon revising copied pages of the book where income and expenditures of the Crown are recorded by Lord Baelish as the King’s Master of Coin and has found irrefutable proof of the accused falsifying figures to the effect that large quantities of gold rightfully belonging to the Crown are missing.

And let us not forget lady Arryn’s most serious accusations of instigating murder and treasonous actions even going so far back as nineteen years.

I can go on citing testimonies of tradesmen that were bribed, servants that were coerced in doing his bidding and so on but I will not take up more time from the King’s Court than absolutely necessary.

Lord Baelish, do you still claim all these honourable men from all corners of the Kingdom think you so important that they all worked together to create false evidence? That every single one of them would forego their honour and lie even under oath? Do you still plead innocent?” 

 

Never before had a room full of nobles been so enthralled by such a long speech. Usually their attention drifted at some point and murmurs would start up, throwing the speaker off balance. However this time, every last person had been riveted and even when the Lord Hand stopped presenting his case, the silence remained. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear how Lord Baelish, Master of Coin would respond to these enormous amount of serious accusations. 

Lord Baelish realised he had lost. They hadn’t even needed the testimony of Lord Varys. Eddard Stark hadn’t used half of the misdeeds the eunuch knew he had perpetrated. At one point, the King had looked ready to murder him and the crowd was no longer on his side. His mind was working overtime. There had to be a way out. It was not possible that everything he had worked on for so long, that all his clever plotting had only gotten him to this point.  
A sudden idea struck him. _‘Perhaps there was a way out. At the very least, it would gain him time and someone could help him escape. He could sweet talk a guard into letting him go surely.’_   
He tried to keep his voice steady but it rose higher than he wished when he shouted “I demand a trial by combat.” 

“First the jury must vote. If they find the proof irrefutable, a convicted traitor to the Crown has no right to a trial by combat.” Lord Stark explained in a calm voice.

Petyr looked astounded. He gulped and finally gave in and reached for his handkerchief. Appearances be damned, this trickling sweat was getting on his nerves. He wiped his face clean, put the piece of cloth away slowly and looked into the eyes of his tormentor.  
“I am sorry, my Lord Hand. Could you elaborate, please? I am not aware of the existence of such a decree.”

“I will gladly to do so after the vote. My Lords, sworn jurors of the King’s Court, I ask you formally to speak up and let us know whether you are absolutely sure that enough proof has been presented to the jurors of the King’s Court to convict the accused, Lord Petyr of House Baelish for the murder of Lord Arryn and for conspiring against the Crown and endangering the peace in the Seven Kingdoms on multiple occasions. I must ask you to search your conscience and only say ‘aye’ if you are convinced without a sliver of a doubt that the accused is a traitor and a murderer who should be punished accordingly.”

One by one the jurors called out a resounding ‘aye’ that could be heard by everyone in the large throne room. Lord Stark was the last one to do so.  
“Petyr Baelish you have been found guilty through irrefutable proof by a jury of nobles sworn to the Crown to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and in accordance to the ‘Traitor’s Law’ of which I will give you an official transcript, you are refused the right of trial by combat. This is a law ratified by the High Septon. When irrefutable proof is laid before men, they do not need to trouble the Gods to decide whether the accused is guilty.”

“Guards, take him to the black cells where he will remain in solitary confinement until the King decides whether he will commute the normal punishment of death for a traitor to the Crown to lifelong imprisonment or not. I hereby declare this case closed. The jurors of the King’s Court are officially dismissed.”

A dumbstruck Petyr Baelish left the room between the two Stark guards without actually registering what he was doing or where he was going. Not a single sign was left of the gleeful proud man that had entered with his head high at the beginning of the session. The crowd saw a crestfallen man leave the room with an empty gaze his eyes, his head bowed. He reacted neither to their sneers nor their insults. In fact he was in such a daze he probably didn’t even hear them.

When the doors of his cell closed with a loud bang he startled and looked up for the very first time. Taking in the empty space he decided to seat himself on the cold floor in a corner. He rested his head against the stone wall.  
_‘I have been defeated, entirely and irrevocably by players I have underestimated big-time. I have lost the Game of Thrones. Or perhaps not entirely. I have one tiny consolation left, one last play up my sleeve. There still is a small chance that Lord Stannis Baratheon will consent to the betrothal of Shireen Baratheon and Robin Arryn. My blood could someday sit on the Iron Throne. That oblivious Lord Arryn never suspected he has given a bastard his honourable name. My bastard!’_

 

***

 

Lord Eddard Stark left the great hall and went in search of Robert Baratheon. He still couldn’t afford to let himself feel. He still needed to keep himself together. He had seen the King sneak out of the room shortly after Lady Arryn’s confession and needed to confront him first. He found him in his bedroom staring at a pitcher of wine.  
“Robert?”

“Don’t worry Ned. I haven’t touched it yet. I am still debating who is the bigger fool. We all fought a war over a lie. Granted, King Aerys was mad, but we were all on the same side at one time. We all plotted to support Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we had a start of a plan in place but then the Mad King showed up at the tourney of Harrenhal and we had to delay. Did you know she didn’t love me, Ned?” His blue Baratheon eyes looked pleadingly at his friend. 

“Don’t answer me. I can read the truth of your face. But I would have made her love me. I would have worshipped the ground she walked on and given her everything she wanted.” He sighed and looked down at a drawing of Lyanna Ned didn’t know he possessed. “No, that’s not true. Not everything. She wanted Prince Rhaegar. I would never have let her go to him. I would have chained her to me against her will. I would have made her unhappy Ned. I do not know what aspect about all of this hurts me the most. I loved her wild spirit but I would have broken it. I can see that now. Why couldn’t I see it then?”

Ned didn’t think Robert really expected an answer of him. So he kept silent and tried to keep all his own memories of his sister from surfacing. He carried some of the same guilt. Benjen had realised she would never be happy with the marriage they were forcing on her. Ned who prided himself that he loved his sister above all else had been confident at the time that his father had chosen the very best of husbands for her and he had looked forward to their union with joy. Just as Robert, he had not had an inkling of the real reason of her flight at first. He looked at his friend and noticed Robert still sat in the same position and had started talking again.

“I never told you how Littlefinger was always whispering these vile stories about Prince Rhaegar in my ear. My younger self was too convinced of my own importance, of my looks and only too willing to believe the traitor. Baelish fooled us all, didn’t he? Did he fool you about Prince Rhaegar as well?”

“Littlefinger never approached me, Robert. You were the Lord of Storm’s End, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I was only a second son back then and of no consequence for his games. I hardly knew Prince Rhaegar before all of this happened. But that is no excuse. I knew of his amiable reputation, how the Prince was loved by the smallfolk. I should have suspected something was off. I might not have known Prince Rhaegar but I knew my sister. Lyanna would have resisted and raised hell if someone had tried to abduct her. To succeed in taking her against her will without alerting at least someone, Prince Rhaegar should have planned his move way in advance with lots of help from others. All these rumours about him were so outlandish, so out of character. We were all played masterfully by Lord Baelish.” Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Robert, this all happened so long ago and has no bearings on our situation now. You had just decided to start afresh.”

“I know, but please allow me to wallow at least a little bit. I had this dream, granted a tragic dream, but now that I know for sure that she never loved me, I don’t even have that dream any longer. All my memories of her have been compromised by this knowledge. Just leave me in peace for a while will you?” Robert couldn’t look the brother of his former betrothed in the eyes.

Ned however stayed right where he was. “I can’t. Not just yet. After you left, some accusations were levelled against me at the trial. I want you to hear them from me instead of from someone else who wants to use this to set us up against each other.” Ned needed Robert to hear him out. 

The King gave him a fleeting glance before he averted his eyes once more. “They would not succeed, Ned. Who is it that dares to accuse someone of House Stark at my court?” 

“Littlefinger.”

“Then why are you worried I would believe that vile person over you? Not a chance in hell!” Robert seemed revived all of a sudden. He was able to look Ned straight in the eyes and confronted Ned’s gaze. “I must admit though, you have made me rather curious. Now I really want to hear what this traitor threw at you in his hour of desperation.”

“He accused me of stealing Winterfell from its rightful heir. According to him my elder brother sired a trueborn son before he died. He claims the young man has reached adulthood and has been spotted in the North. According to Baelish he waited until he is old enough before claiming his inheritance.” Ned steeled himself for another outburst but knew it was better Robert heard it from him. If he was present when Robert heard this last titbit, he could immediately counter any irrational behaviour or action from him. “Littlefinger also implied that that young man and the alleged owner of the dragon are one and the same.”

Robert looked at his friend for a long time. To Ned’s surprise his expression was calm and steady when he finally spoke up. “If you vow before me that to the best of your knowledge no living son of Brandon exists, I will believe you Ned.” 

“That is an easy one Robert. I vow on my honour as a Stark and on the lives of all five of my children that I do not know of the existence of a son, true-born or bastard sired by my brother Brandon of House Stark. The Old Gods may strike me down this instant if this is not the absolute truth.” His words were true but he had to muster all his strength to keep the guilt that welled up inside him from showing on his face.

“Matter closed.” The King stated. “Do investigate the rumours about those dragons or dragon though. It gives me the creeps each time I hear someone mentioning these flying abominations. Perhaps that young man is just a sellsword of the Golden Company who has similar features to the members of House Stark, dark hair, grey eyes, you know.”

“I’ll go straight to the source of the rumours each time I hear about them.” Ned promised ambiguously and tried to avoid facing his conflicted feelings for now by finding something else to focus on.  
“Come on Robert. Get up from your bed. Let’s go hunt some boar or something. I need to get rid of all this pent up energy and frustration after being stuck the entire morning in that courtroom. Perhaps we can relax our minds and come up with an original way to punish Littlefinger.” Ned reached his hand out to pull the King from his bed.

“A boar hunt! Now that is the first sensible word I heard all day. “What do I always say: ‘shooting a boar and fucking a woman afterward, there’s no better way to leave this world’. Go get your weapons and change your attire. I will meet you at the stables. If we hurry we still have the better part of the afternoon to hunt down some nice specimens.”

 

***

 

Later that night, Ned was preparing for bed. He had spent a lovely afternoon in the woods. Over the last few sennights he had often caught glimpses of his old friend. It had started during the voyage to King’s Landing after the drunken incident. Still those had been mere glimpses and mostly of the man’s intelligent mind. This afternoon however, it seemed as if his long lost boisterous but warm-hearted friend from before the Rebellion was back to stay. Robert had not once uttered a statement that had rubbed Ned the wrong way. It was as if they had both been catapulted back in time and had resumed their old roles during the hunt. They had only needed a look or a small gesture to understand what the other was planning. After they had successfully killed a boar and a deer, they had joked about who had taken the cleaner shot, just like they used to do when they grew up together during their formative years at the Vale. He sighed, thinking about what lay ahead and removed his doublet. Suddenly he noticed a small movement in a dark corner and reached for the sword he had discarded only moments before. 

“I am no threat Lord Stark.”

Ned relaxed when he heard the sing song voice of Lord Varys. “Hells, you almost frightened me to death. Is it really necessary to sneak up on me that way? How did you get in here, by the way?” The guards at the door assured me they saw nobody enter the corridor.” He put the sword back on the chair.

“Come now, an accomplished warrior like you isn’t frightened by a mere shadow. I didn’t want anyone to think we were conspiring. They could get the right idea.” He winked. “I came via a secret passage. I’ll show you the entrance then you can block it after I leave. That way you will no longer receive surprise visits, not even from me. If you need to speak to me in private for some reason, leave a candle behind the doorway and keep it unlocked. One of my little birds will fetch me as soon as possible.”

“Make sure you show me.” Ned’s tone betrayed his annoyance at the unannounced intrusion. And then reassure me it is the only secret passageway that gives entrance to my quarters. Now what are we conspiring about tonight?”

“I wanted to keep you informed of the latest messages, the latest rumours, and my current worries, my Lord Hand.”

“It appears this will take some time. Please sit down Lord Varys. Can I offer you some refreshment?”

Varys took the time to install himself at the small table and adjusted his robe around him with deliberate care. “I have no need of refreshments for the time being, my Lord Hand. I am fine. Let me congratulate you on a well-orchestrated trial. I enjoyed watching him enter the room with a confident stride and look at everyone as if he was the most important person in the Seven Kingdoms. He looked so shocked when he realised he had been played by the honourable Lord Stark. He never saw it coming from you.”

“I am not at all sure if that is a compliment, Lord Varys. It just means I am an even more accomplished conniver than that despicable person.”

“Come now my Lord Hand, when you are doing the right thing, you are no conniver, you are just plain smart. He was guilty of everything you accused him of, was he not?”

“That he was. I can’t take all the credit for the outcome of the trial though. It was a joint effort. Everyone helped provide evidence. I did not mention several key players to keep them in the shadows, but you, Lord Reed, my brother, Jon and countless others helped us gather the evidence. Even the King helped.”

“Nevertheless you directed the trial in a theatrical fashion, my Lord Hand.” Fawning over people was something Varys did often. That and being obsequious were his trademark tricks to deceive everyone into thinking he was just a pleasant, pudgy man familiar with the pleasantries of court life. He mostly succeeded. People usually underestimated him and consequently didn’t see through his schemes. This time however it was no trick, he really meant to compliment Lord Stark.

“That was on the orders of the King, believe it or not. Again I can’t take all the credit. You coached the jurors and they all performed their role impeccably. Not one spoke before their turn, no outburst, they kept their faces blank. I am sure Littlefinger must have tried to read their allegiances from their faces, searching for the weakest link and came up empty.”

“They were all eager enough to witness his downfall and were only too happy to contribute to it. I never had more dedicated pupils. I was glad however that Lord Mace of House Tyrell had been delayed at High Garden due to the death of his castellan. I am not sure he would have kept up his role as impeccably as the rest. Did you watch Baelish’s face when you refused him the right to a trial by combat?”Varys couldn’t help but gloat.

“That was the sole purpose of creating that law so swiftly and getting the High Septon on board without delay. I have you to thank for that suggestion as well. I would have forgotten that combat by trial was a divine right and we needed the ratification of the High Septon. I am sure Littlefinger would have found that loophole and used it somehow to get out of his predicament against all odds.”

“It was in the realm’s best interest to rid the Seven Kingdoms of Petyr Baelish, my Lord. It motivated me to help you play the game. I must admit that you are doing an excellent job as Hand. You passed decent laws, have gotten the King to behave and restructured the small council so the realm is better represented. However did you get him to agree to give Prince Oberyn, or a representative of his choosing, a seat?”

“I simply pointed out to Robert that I represent the Northern most Kingdom and my good family trusts me to represent the Riverlands as well. Lord Royce who has accepted to be the Master of Laws represents the Vale. With Lord Tyrell representing the Reach and King Robert representing the Stormlands and the Crownlands that leaves only the Rock, Dorne and the Ironborn out in the cold. I told him he could insult House Greyjoy since, they don’t care one jot about a position on the small council, Lord Tyrion was not likely to complain to safeguard his niece and nephew, but that it was high time to repair the relationship with Dorne and it would not do to insult them further by not giving their Kingdom a voice in a reformed small council. The King gave me leave to try but bet me a horse that there was no way in hell that I could get Prince Oberyn to accept. Little does he know that Prince Oberyn has been a close ally to my house for years now.” Ned looked smug. “I will enjoy choosing one of his prized stallions when Prince Oberyn’s scroll announcing his acceptance arrives.”

“I repeat, Lord Hand, in the short time you are here you have done a tremendous job. I am only worried that you are doing your job too well.” Varys’ sing song voice sounded accusing.

“Do not speak in riddles Varys. I am a man of the North. We say what we mean without wasting time.”

“I am sure you do, my Lord. But that takes all the fun out of it. And I know you understand that at least to some small degree because you played a while with our accused letting him think he could worm his way out of his predicament before you laid out the more serious charges before him.” Varys kept his calm demeanour but his eyes twinkled

“Varys, you are trying my patience.” Ned was tired, not only physically tired from the hunt, but his mind that had finally released the strain of the trial during the pleasurable hunt was not in the mood to once more having to cope with the intricate political games of the capital.

“Well, I only meant to say that those reforms you instated shortly after arriving in King’s Landing, especially the one outlawing the abuse of power by the armed forces in the capital, have already had an effect on the smallfolk living here.”

“That is a good thing, is it not?” Ned felt uneasy suddenly. He had an inkling where Varys was going with this.

“It is Lord Stark. However combined with the fact that the King has been seen walking around sober, behaving himself in public and attending more meetings in two sennights than in the twelve moons before you became Hand of the King, well, the people are warming up to him and that is not good for our cause. I have been working day and night to redirect the people’s attention from the King to the new Hand who has a really good influence on his Grace and if that good man left, then surely the King would relapse and return to his normal habits of drunken whoring and spending the taxpayer’s money.” 

“But.” Ned started but actually didn’t know what rebuttal to offer.

“You are hurting your nephew’s cause considerably, Lord Stark. The smallfolk love a redemption story. The King is already looking much healthier. He has visibly lost weight and has been civil in public. I hate to imagine what will happen if he marries a beautiful wife and the Gods forbid she happens to be pregnant when everything goes down. If Jon deposes a beloved King, he will not be welcomed and the people will call him a usurper, an invader.”

“I don’t know what to say to this right this instant, Varys. I really don’t.” Ned frowned and averted his eyes.

“Do you know which ruler you want to serve?” Varys has dropped all pretence and studied Lord Stark’s reaction closely.

Lord Stark’s head snapped back and he faced Varys, all indecision had left his eyes. “Yes of course. Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name. That has never been in doubt. Robert on the other hand once was my best friend and he is changing for the better. How can I in good conscience steer him back to being a lazy drunk King?”

“You can at least hold off on passing laws the people appreciate but let our Targaryen Prince come up with them. I am almost certain the law you just passed outlawing misconduct of armed forces was at least partly if not entirely Aegon’s idea.”

“Way to take away all pleasure of our victory over a long-standing nemesis today.” Ned looked dejected and guilty. 

“Somebody must take up the difficult role of confronting his fellow conspirator when he is making a serious mistake. You will have to choose, Ned.” It was the first time Varys had been so informal with the Lord of Winterfell. Ned steeled himself knowing this meant the lecture was probably getting worse and he was right. Varys’ next words were even worse than he had expected. 

“You must face the consequences of your actions now or this won’t work. Robert Baratheon and Aegon Targaryen cannot live together in the realm. Banishing Robert to the Wall or exiling him from Westeros will not be an option. Better you come to terms with this now. Even if it is a restoration of the rightful ruler, this is a rebellion and the ones on the side that loses are traitors to the Crown. If you let Robert live, there will be uprisings. He must die and his legacy must be that he was an unfit ruler who took the throne unlawfully by slaughtering every member of House Targaryen that he could get his hands on, even the small innocent children.”

“I need to think on this. There must be a better alternative that we are overlooking. There simply must be.” Ned felt like he was living a nightmare. The day had started so brightly. He really thought he was handling this Hand thing and the politics in the capital with expertise. But one small conversation and suddenly he felt very naïve and incompetent. He startled when he heard Varys speak. 

“Please do my Lord Hand. I need to do some damage control right away. My little birds need to sing songs about the Golden Company and their dragon in Essos once more. It was not a good thing that Littlefinger was allowed to connect your house to the dragonrider. One day, Robert will put two and two together. It is just a matter of time before someone tells him the boy who rides a dragon is the spitting image of Lyanna Stark. Not to mention the effort I have already put in to nullify the rumours about a resurrected Sword of the Morning who is fighting by his side.”

“I needed to let Baelish defend himself at the trial. I could not silence him mid-sentence. The trial was fixed enough as it was.”

“Do not think of it that way or you will never again have a peaceful night. Prosecutors need to strategize before a trial to assure the guilty party can’t worm its way out of a conviction. Littlefinger was guilty of treason ten times over. It was a fair verdict. Now get some rest and leave the rumour mill to me. I have an idea on how to fix the situation with King Robert. The only thing I need you to do is stay neutral. Do not keep him from starting to drink again and making mistakes.”

“I’ll do my best. I’ll keep myself busy with trivial matters and avoid his company as much as possible. I hope no more will be needed from me in this regard.”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious. Jon still needs all the information and advice from us he can get. Davos Seaworth is doing all he can but the situation in the North is troublesome.”

“Varys, after all this I do not have any energy left to discuss the problems beyond the Wall tonight.”

“Not even to hear status reports from Ser Gerold at Dragonstone, never mind our other allies?” 

Ned just shook his head and didn’t meet Varys’ eyes.

I’ll leave you then, Lord Hand. Perhaps we can meet in the Godswood tomorrow afternoon? You will have to welcome lady Olenna and her son with his pompous entourage in the morning. My little birds told me the fair lady Margaery accompanies them this time. Best keep your King far from her. Anyway I’ll be in the Godswood the second half of tomorrow afternoon. Rest well.” He bowed and disappeared behind the hidden door he had pointed out earlier. Ned fastened the latch, pulled a heavy chair in front of it and sat down.  
What a pickle he had made of things. It had indeed been Jon’s idea to limit the authority of the armed forces in the capital. His nephew had come up with it after he had heard several horror stories from Sandor that had been confirmed by his three Kingsguards. And here he had thought years of scheming had made him a proficient player in the game of thrones. It seemed not. Varys had put him in his place with just a few sentences. He was a mere novice who had stolen his nephew’s thunder. He pushed the memories of his lovely afternoon with Robert to the back of his mind. He needed to get his priorities straight and the sooner he came to terms with the consequences, the better. Still, he couldn’t silence his inner voice that urged him to keep looking for a solution that offered a better fate to Robert.

 

***

 

Ned had been up since dawn and was dressed when he received an early summons from his King. Avoiding Robert would be harder than he thought. He was hardly through the doorway of the King’s sitting room when Robert burst out.  
“We need to carry out the sentences Ned. I do not see the need to tarry. The verdict was unanimous.”

“I agree Robert. But I could have sworn I heard you say sentences, as in plural?” The King sat at a small desk where several scrolls were arranged in a neatly fashion.

“The Freys and the Ironborn are guilty of conspiring against the Crown. The Boltons, well I am sure these sadists are guilty as hell as well but I am afraid we do not have a case against them. “

“The jurors didn’t condemn Walder Frey nor the Ironborn, Robert. What have you decided to do with Lord Baelish?”

“There is only one outcome Ned. The man is a traitor to the Crown and guilty of murder of the Hand of the King. He will be beheaded as soon as everything is put into place to make a big show of it in the yard before the Sept of Bailor.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” Ned was about to leave the room again when the King called him back.

“I have already spoken to the City Watch, Ned. They know what to do. This isn’t the first time a man has been executed in the capital. You just need to show up.” He seemed to consider something. “Maybe you will want to execute him yourself. Your way is the Old Way as I recall. Just let me know whether we will need Ilyn Payne’s services or not.”

“Best let Payne do it. Most of his crimes were not against my house but against the realm. I did not pass the sentence. The Crown’s Court did.”

“All right, suit yourself. Just show up on time then. You will need to read the official verdict and sentence out loud to the crowd. Now about not having the legal means to condemn the Freys, I am not talking about beheading them or even declaring them traitors to the Crown. I am thinking of taking away their privileges as Lords of the crossing. I will no longer allow them to ask a toll for every passage. Let’s draft a royal decree that grants everyone free passage. The only services I will allow them to charge travellers for are meals or overnight stays and that only if they are requested. Any violation must be reported to the Crown immediately. If enough proof is provided, the Crown will take measures and install another house as Lords of the crossing. If necessary a royal army will lay siege at the Twins.

“That sounds a bit drastic, Robert. Perhaps we should sit on this for a while. What if they revolt and make a pact with the Ironborn? Do you really want another Greyjoy rebellion on your hands?”

“You take away all my fun Ned. But okay. We’ll table this for a few days. Lysa Arryn though, any thoughts on what I should do with her?”

“She is a victim of a master conniver and she has a young son who loves her very much. What if we give her house arrest and foster the boy out to the eldest son of Yohn Royce at the Vale. We will let her see the boy regularly but always with a member of House Royce present. It is easy to keep her contained at the Eyrie. If ever you need a secure prison, that fortress in the Vale would do very well.”

“You are right, I should be somewhat lenient for Arryn’s widow. I fell for Littlefinger’s lies as well. Let her go home and be a prisoner in her own home. But at the first sign of trouble, she still faces the death sentence. She has committed murder after all.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that, your Grace. I’ll make sure she won’t be given free reign of the Eyrie. She will be confined to her quarters. They give access to a large balcony with some greenery.” Ned bowed formally and tried a second time to leave the King’s presence. “I have a meeting to attend to, something about the sewer system. I am sure you will not want to be present.”

A simple hand gesture gave Ned permission to retreat. He left quickly and mentally reviewed the rest of his day. First a few dull meetings, then meeting the newly arrived delegation of the Reach and keep them from forcing a betrothal on the King before his annulment is granted. No time to start his intended search for the Baratheon bastards today. Hopefully he would have a productive meeting with Varys in the Godswood. He needed all the guidance Varys had to offer. Yesterday he had still been full of the trial and had not asked for the status of things on Dragonstone. Now the not knowing plagued him. He estimated that Ser Gerold had already landed on Dragonstone. If he had calculated it right, even the Targaryen Princess could be living there by now. Somehow no rumours of her had reached the capital yet. They would someday though, any day even. He needed to be vigilant. Friend or not, Robert would have his head if he was not careful.

 

**Interlude 19: Revelations at Castle Black**

“Jon! What are you doing here?” Gendry dropped what he was doing. He cleaned his hands with a small cloth and embraced his friend. Jon returned his hug. He was glad to see his friend looked well fed and well rested.

“I came to check whether you were still alive or not. We have an ongoing bet as to the cause of your demise. Either you are withering away from loneliness or you are killing yourself by working non-stop to create the most beautiful weapons we have ever seen." Jon added that last bit when he spotted a stash of weapons on a table in the corner of the workplace.  
“Wow Gendry. These look amazing! Jon picked up an axe head. Are they as strong as they are exquisite?”

“O yee of little faith.” Gendry grinned. “Before I forget, I am very glad to see you.” He picked up an axe head while he spoke and rammed it into a wooden beam with all his might. “There, does that satisfy you, my Prince?” Gendry mocked, illustrating how much strength it took to remove the axe head. It was embedded rather deep into the wood.

“Jon looked with increasing wonder at the various ways Gendry tried to get the axe out of the wooden beam. “I think congratulations are in order. It looks even stronger than a steel one. Perhaps if you put a handle through the axe eye, you would have more leverage to pull it out?” Jon suggested when Gendry still hadn’t succeeded to free the axe head.

“It is not though. Stronger than steel I mean.” Gendry was now busy hammering a handle through the eye of the axe “But it comes close. Noye and I perfected the procedure while you were gone. It made me think of something else but perhaps it is too good an idea to discuss out here. It is only a theory, mind you but I can’t shake the idea.”

“You know, you are starting to sound a bit like Howland Reed. But I’ll let you keep your trade secrets for now. How are things here Gendry? Are they treating you well? Where is Donal Noye, by the way?” 

“Things are great, Jon. Noye is an excellent craftsman, perhaps not as skilled as Tobho Mott with the finer stuff. You know, like the badges I made for you or the hilt on Arya’s sword. But the man knows his steel. He showed me new ways to get the balance of a sword or a hammer just right. I am glad I stayed behind Jon. Noye asked me if wanted to repair Cotter Pyke’s sword. The hilt was crooked and the carvings worn away. You know by now how I take pride in creating hilts that are not only functional and feel good in your hand but at the same time are pleasing to the eye. Cotter Pyke was well pleased with the end result. He approached me personally to thank me. He tried to persuade me to become a brother of the Night’s Watch.” Gendry stumbled against Jon as he was catapulted backwards the moment he succeeded in pulling the axe from the beam.

Jon held on to Gendry and turned him around to face him. Gendry watched the raised eyebrow and the mock put out expression on Jon’s face. He grinned out loud. “Not a chance in hell! As if I want to miss out on all the fun. And I don’t speak merely of the ‘take no wife’ part. I want to be present when you kick King Robert’s ass and take his throne out from under him.”

Jon had released his grip on his friend the moment Gendry started grinning. “I am glad. Davos will be relieved to hear you are treated well and look content here for the time being. Just to be sure, you are still get along with Noye then? He is not envious of the interest Pyke takes in you?” Jon checked.

“I do, very well actually. Mind you we do not talk a lot. Not like the long conversations you are used to having with people. We just grunt and drop a few words to give instructions while we work on the material. Though there was that one awkward moment during our lunch break a few days ago. I think I hurt his feelings a bit.”

“What happened, Gendry? Did he pester you about being a bastard?” Jon wiped the metal dust of a chair and sat down.

“No, quite the opposite really. He knew I had never been to Storm’s End and also that I had never met either of the Baratheon brothers. He wanted to tell me about them. I listened well enough to the description of the mighty fortress that Storm’s End apparently is. How it endured many sieges but has never fallen to any attacker. One of your ancestor’s helped build it. Did you know that, Jon?” Gendry put the axe head back with the others and sat down facing Jon.

“Of course, Bran the Builder of House Stark, the same man that built the Wall. That was a part of my daily history lessons. I think I learned about every keep in Westeros important enough to house a noble Lord. Storm’s End being the seat of a Lord Paramount featured prominently in these lessons. But that doesn’t tell me what went wrong during that lunch break.”

“Nothing went wrong exactly. I just reacted badly when he started to talk about my father and his brothers when they were young. He apparently liked the younger version of Robert Baratheon and I just wasn’t ready to hear the man who ignored my existence and didn’t keep me safe from his wife’s family, be praised to the Seven Heavens. I shut him up rather abruptly. We have avoided the subject ever since.” Gendry looked at the dirt under his fingernails.

“But you still manage to work together?” Jon asked wanting to be sure Gendry would be okay if he stayed at Castle Black a bit longer.

“Yes, like I said, we just avoid the subject now. I regret my outburst though. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to know a bit more about the man who sired me. Perhaps I even inherited some characteristics from him.” Gendry’s eyes met Jon’s, a tentative look in them.

“Well we all know how you resemble him and that you both prefer a warhammer. Just apologize to Noye and tell him you were caught off guard and overreacted. I am sure he’ll understand. He probably keeps silent not to hurt your feelings and will tell you about him again if you just ask. Speaking about Noye, is he not around? Is there nobody lurking close by that can overhear us?”

“Noye is with the new recruits in the training yard to assess what they will need for armour and weapons. He said he would not be back till lunch. I have the place to myself.” Gendry studied his friend closely. “What’s up Jon? I can see you have something on your mind. We are alone here. Out with it.”

“Did you happen to encounter Jaime Lannister or Renly Baratheon yet?” Jon asked him avoiding eye contact.

“I haven’t seen them personally. I have heard a lot of gossip though. They apparently arrived five days ago. Jaime Lannister has been in solitary confinement in the cells beneath Castle Black ever since. Prince Renly on the other hand has been given chambers in the same tower the Maester normally resides in. I hear he always takes his meals in solitude and has only been seen on the rampart a few times to catch some fresh air but our noble Prince hasn’t mingled with the commoners yet. Why do you want to know?”

“I am worried about their reaction when they hear of a dragonrider’s presence north of the Wall.” Now it was Jon who was fiddling with his hands.

“Really?” Gendry looked sceptic at his friend’s atypical behaviour. “Jaime won’t have the opportunity to tell anyone soon and Prince Renly can be heard muttering under his breath about how he detests his brother. Is that the only reason you brought them up, Jon? Truthfully?”

“I want to confront Jaime Lannister, all right. I just saw Cotter Pyke when I picked up some messages and asked permission for a quick visit to his cell.” Jon’s defiant attitude didn’t seem to bother Gendry.

“I won’t stop you if that is why you were reluctant to reveal this to me.” His friend simply stated. “Hells, I’ll even come along to taunt him. How about ‘Hi Jaime dear, I am the King’s bastard and have come here to harass you for cuckolding my dearest father. Better sleep with one eye open from now on’.” Gendry grinned but Jon stayed serious.

“Be my guest. The fact that Bran lives, makes him no less a child murderer. I thank the Gods every day for putting the idea of that climbing harness in my head. I never told you that it came to me in a dream? Ever since I heard of Bran’s fall, I am certain the Gods are on our side.”

“On the side of innocent children, more like it.” Gendry nudged Jon’s shoulder. “What about it? Shall we go and harass a Kingslayer, child murderer and sisterfucker?”

Jon immediately started for the door. “You coming?”

“And here I was fooled for an instant into thinking that you loved me so much that you had come all the way to see lonesome me.” It was meant as a joke but Jon could hear a faint disappointment in his friend’s tone.

“I would have checked up on you, even if it was too soon for these two to have arrived. I also did it for Davos. For some unimaginable reason that man cares about you. I want to stay in his good graces.” Jon joked but put his arm around Gendry’s shoulder to emphasize his sincerity. “Still doubting you are one of my best friends? It is me who should feel insulted.”

“Sometimes it is hard to believe, Jon. Besides, you have so much going on in your life.”

“Stop right there Gendry.” He took back his arm only to face Gendry, put his two hands on his friend’s shoulders and forced him to look straight into his eyes.  
“Whether we see each other every day or only two times a year, we will always have this unbreakable bond. At least that is how I feel about it. And not because you are a skilled blacksmith or can use that warhammer of yours frightfully well. Not even because you are speaking like a literate man these days, ‘o yee of little faith’, where did that come from? No, it is because you are a kind person who happens to have struck a chord with me. Haven’t you ever met someone and known right away that you could get along with him or her and that you could trust that person implicitly?” 

Jon paused when he heard footsteps. Going over to the window he saw a brother of the Night’s Watch cross the far corner of the court. When the man was out of sight and his footsteps could no longer be heard, he turned away from the window and returned to his original spot facing his friend.  
“Have you ever considered the fact that we are actually family as well as friends? Your father’s grandmother was Princess Rhaelle of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aegon V, aunt to King Aerys II. That makes us third cousins, Gendry. You have a rightful claim to being a member of my very small Targaryen family.” Jon’s mouth curled upwards but his eyes stayed serious, his unwavering stare not permitting Gendry to look away.

“Come on Jon, or should I call you cousin now? You are getting all mushy on me now. Quit already, or you are going to make me feel stupid all over again.” He said in a rather brusque manner to avoid showing too much of the warm brotherly feelings Jon’s words engendered in him.

“You get it, though?” Jon dropped his hands but both youths stayed rooted to their spot, both struggling to suppress their slight embarrassment. Men didn't talk about feelings like women, they acted upon them.

Gendry swallowed. “I get it. And to answer your question, yes I have met such people before that I felt an immediate bond with. Two persons fit that bill, Davos Seaworth and”, he paused only to continue using a mocking tone and feigning a doubtful expression, “I think there also might have been some obscure Prince who hides his real identity and who happens to be an obscure member of my bizarre family.” 

Jon however stayed serious. “Can I count on you to have my back in there? I’ll try to contain myself but it will take all of my self-control not to do something stupid when I look into the eyes of the man who attempted to murder my little cousin.”

Gendry nodded, looking serious once more. “I will always have your back Jon. Let’s get on with it.”

 

***

 

It was a fortunate coincidence that the two brothers of the Night’s Watch guarding Jaime Lannister were part of the contingent of Targaryen supporters that had helped Jon leave Castle Black safely the day after Maester Aemon’s funeral. They immediately led Jon and Gendry to Jaime Lannister’s plain but clean cell and chained the man to his bunk bed to safeguard the Targaryen Prince before letting both young men enter.

“Can you give us some privacy please?” Jon asked the guards who just nodded and told them they would be in the room at the beginning of the corridor where the guards usually took their meals. 

The rusty sounds of the cell doors closing behind his visitors enticed Jaime Lannister to look up.  
Two male figures kept the largest distance possible from him by staying with their back against the bars that kept him imprisoned. Fortunate for him it was also the spot that caught the bit of daylight that filtered in from two small windows that were too high up for him to be able to see what was happening outside. He startled when he studied the faces of this unexpected company.  
“I do not believe I have had the pleasure? Nevertheless, I am almost certain that a Baratheon and a Stark are honouring me with their company.” Despite his shabby appearance Jaime Lannister still managed to look arrogant sitting upon the modest bed.

“I do not believe it is a pleasure.” Jon’s harsh tone immediately put the prisoner on the defensive.

“Perhaps I should have called you two a Waters and Snow instead? Am I talking to two bastards by any chance?” Jaime went for his most snobbish articulation.

“The only bastard in here is you, child murdering kingslayer.” Jon retorted quickly to prevent Gendry from reacting to the insult.

“I didn’t end up murdering him in the end.” Jaime sighed and hunched his shoulders all sign of arrogance gone. “I admit, that was not my finest hour. I am deeply sorry for succumbing to the impulse of the moment, thinking that I had found the only means of protecting the lives of the ones dearest to me. It was a rash act in a moment of panic. Is the Stark boy all right?

“He is. That doesn’t help your case though. It was sheer luck he survived.” Jon did not allow him to be swayed by Jaime Lannister’s tardy apology.

“Will you at least tell me who you are? You look like a Stark, even more than Eddard Stark’s heir one might say. Oh, are you perhaps this alleged son of Brandon Stark that wants to steel Winterfell from noble Eddard Stark? Have you come to avenge your cousin? Please, don’t let me stop you. It will prevent me from slowly freezing to dead after I have lost my mind in this small cell. I am not made for a solitary life in miserable circumstances. And here I thought I would stand out at the Wall and in no time would command this ragtag band of misfits.” Jaime chose his words and tone to be as provocative as possible. It was the only real human contact and distraction he had received in days and perhaps one of these youth’s would do him the favour of ending his misery.

“Jon!” Gendry held him back when Jon advanced on the Kingslayer.

“Yes, even your voice sounds like Robert Baratheon.” The Kingslayer now turned his attention to the other young man trying to get under his skin. “Are you perhaps one of the many male bastards that will miss out on a royal inheritance, you poor thing? You are his spitting image, you know? Everyone who knew Robert Baratheon when he was young will know who sired you, boy.”

“If I am a bastard, at least I am not an incestuous one. Be careful, Kingslayer. Tommen and Myrcella are not safe yet. I am closer to being legitimized than they will ever be.” Gendry bluffed and watched with glee how the man blanched. 

Jaime gave both young men another once over. “Why have you two green boys taken all this trouble to travel to the end of the world to visit me? You clearly are not sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch. Will you at least tell me that?” Even though he was rattled by the threat to his children he tried to brave it out.

Jon sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall next to the bars sending the message he was not leaving anytime soon. “I want to hear exactly what happened in the throne room the day you stabbed King Aerys II.” Jon stared deep into Jaime Lannister’s eyes, conveying his intent. He would not leave the man in peace before he obtained this information

Both men looked at him with wide eyes. Gendry looked even more shocked than Jaime Lannister.  
Jon silenced his friend with a small gesture. 

“Why does that matter to you?” Jaime Lannister reacted finally. When no answer was forthcoming he sighed deeply and looked down at the ground. “Nobody ever asked me with enough insistence to get past my first refusal to talk about my motivations. They all just assumed the worst.” He looked up again and tried once more to gauge his interrogator’s motivation. “This all happened such a long time ago. Why do you want to know so badly? I bet you weren’t even born yet.”

Jon was surprised himself that the Kingslayer had it right. He hadn’t realised that he wanted to know this so very badly before he had asked the question out loud. Although he knew almost everything that had happened at the end of the Rebellion, nobody had been able to tell him what had driven a seventeen year old Kingsguard sworn to defend his King with his life, to break his sacred vow and cowardly stab the old man in the back.  
“It matters to me.” His simple statement and his entire demeanour betrayed to the two men present that he spoke the absolute truth.

A nagging suspicion entered Jaime’s mind. He dismissed it offhand though. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed when he looked at the young man who sat there clearly with no intent of dropping the subject. Well, what did it matter anyway? He was doomed to die here in this cold land, far away from all he held dear. This was probably one of his last meaningful conversations. For the rest of his life, his future companions - or should he say ‘brothers’ - would be illiterate people at best, common thieves and murderers at worst. 

For the first time in eighteen years he described the horrors of that fateful day. He started haltingly but it all came pouring out of him. Even in the midst of his turmoil, he saw the Stark lookalike cringe when he told him how King Aerys’ final orders were for Ser Jaime to kill his own father and for his pyromancers to burn down the keep and the entire city including its entire population with wildfire. He deliberately mimicked the Mad King’s shriek ‘burn them all’ several times to make an even greater impact on his strange audience. The young man’s Stark eyes narrowed when Jaime sneered that the honourable Eddard Stark had judged him guilty on the spot without giving the young knight he was at that time a chance to explain.

Absolute silence reigned when Jaime stopped his tale. Overwhelmed by the memories he just relived, Jaime’s eyes were once more trained on the ground to avoid looking at both young men.

Jon had never suspected he could feel empathy for any of Jaime Lannister’s deeds. He struggled with the idea that that one deed could possibly have changed the entire course of the promising young knight’s life. He wondered whether the incestuous affair with his twin had started before or after the Rebellion. Then the thought of a crying and shaking Bran flittered through his mind.  
“He was my kin but I absolve you of his murder.” Jon finally said. “However, I do not absolve you of standing by and letting them murder Princess Elia and her children. You were sworn to protect her as well. You did nothing when they were put to death in such a gruesome way. Nor do I absolve you of the murderous act that almost killed my cousin Bran Stark. I hope you rot in this place for that last deed and that death will come slowly and painfully.” 

The Lannister’s mouth fell open. “Kin to the Mad King, cousin to Bran Stark? Are you the dragonrider that has been spotted over the Narrow Sea and in Westeros? Are you really the alleged son of Brandon Stark? I can’t for the life of me come up with a plausible candidate with Valyrian blood to have birthed you? I didn’t know the Mad King sired female bastards? Will you at least tell me who your mother was?” He tried once more to make sense of his strange visitors.

“Come on, Jon.” Gendry who had stayed upright the entire time held out his hand to help Jon up. “Don’t you think it is time we leave before you regret anything you might say or do to that despicable man?”

“A Baratheon defending a dragonrider, wait until King Robert hears about that.” The surprise of Jon sharing a kinship with the Mad King had temporarily put aside all the old feelings that had welled up during his agonising tale of his kingslaying act.

Meanwhile Jon had accepted Gendry’s help to get up and towered over Jaime Lannister. It lent extra credit to his next threat.  
“It certainly won’t be you who will tell him that. Nobody would believe you anyway. I heard a little bird tell me that King Robert will make sure you suffer an excruciatingly painful death if ever he hears your name mentioned again.” 

“Hey,” Gendry interjected. “I thought it was my line to tell this vermin that he should sleep with one eye open from now on.” 

Jon ignored Gendry’s statement and went on to threaten Jaime’s children.  
“Just know that I control Eddard Stark and through him I control the fate of Tommen and Myrcella.”  
“I can arrange for them to be treated so badly, they will wish they were dead every moment of every single day in their incestuous lives. I can even oblige them in that and order someone to push them off the top of Casterly Rock.” 

He paused and changed the tone of his voice significantly adopting a beguiling tone. “But if you are a good boy and help fight the enemy beyond the Wall, perhaps I will wake up some day in the future and happen to be in a very benign mood for once. So benign that I might even be willing to use my substantial influence to get Tommen and Myrcella legitimized as Lannisters.” 

He stepped closer to the chained man. Towering over him he made sure that the tone of his voice matched his intimidating stance. “Better stay quiet about both of us and keep me as a friend, sisterfucker. Now ponder that for a bit but don’t overwork your tiny brain. Until we meet again.”

Jon turned around and left the cell not bothering to look back and see the multitude of feelings cross Jaime’s face. He heard Gendry’s steps behind him and that was all he needed to know.

 

***

 

“Jon, was that wise? I get that you wanted to torture him a bit for pushing Bran but you revealed an awful lot in there. What if he speaks to Prince Renly or some other Baratheon supporter? And what about those threats against Tommen and Myrcella?” Gendry had barely contained himself long enough until they were outside in a secluded spot where nobody could overhear him to vent his frustration.

“It wasn’t my best idea.” Jon admitted. He looked drained and very guilty. “I hardly know how I will face Davos and the rest now. So please give me some respite and spare me your sermons for a bit.”  
Jon now looked beseechingly at Gendry. 

When his friend didn’t give an inch and kept staring him down Jon exclaimed. “I was bluffing Gendry. I would never hurt innocent children. Don’t you know that about me by now? At one point, I even felt sorry for Lannister. Just imagine, he was hardly our age when he saved an entire city from being burned alive and instead of being heralded as a hero he has had to live with being called the Kingslayer because of it. ”

Gendry relaxed his stance. “I just wanted to hear you say it, Jon. You looked so guilty just now that I thought you really believed yourself to be a monster. You did nothing more than threaten a child murderer who had it coming. I only wished you hadn’t revealed your shared blood with the Targaryen King. That is all. I enjoyed seeing him rattled though. Perhaps you haven’t done that much damage. I am sure you stating firmly that you are ‘controlling Eddard Stark’ will have convinced him he was right in thinking you are the rightful heir to Winterfell. He will never make the connection to your real father now.”

“Nor to my real mother. Come with me to visit your half-Uncle Prince Renly now that I am on a roll?” Jon baited his friend.

“Jon!”

“Just kidding. Come let us find us a pint of ale each. I want to wind down a bit and spend some time with my friend before I fly off again. Any chance you will let me take some of those newly crafted dragonglass weapons along?”

“By all means. They are meant to be put to use. What are the plans once Noye and I have used up all the material you brought, Jon? Should I come find you at the Free Folk settlement?”

“I will send someone to fetch you if I am unable to come myself. Do you know how long before you are ready here?”

“The day after next. I look forward to more of the material arriving. If there really is a ship’s hold load full of dragonglass at my disposal, I can take the risk of ruining some of it to try out my new theory.”

“About that? Will you tell me now instead of just making me curious?”

Gendry looked around first and then whispered. “Dragonfire, Jon. Dragonfire burns hotter than any fire I have ever seen. The hotter I stoke the fire in the forge, the better the quality of the weapons. Imagine what I could do with dragonfire at my disposal. I could perhaps come close to creating something as strong as Valyrian Steel.” 

Jon shared his excitement. “What a smart thing to come up with!”

“Sam might take some credit as well. I’d like to say we came up with it together.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed Gendry. I think Viserion is the one most likely to accommodate you. I will have to ask him though. Perhaps we can try that at East Watch? The dragonglass will arrive there soon enough.”

“The men here told me there is a forge over there but nobody really with the skills to achieve much.”

“We’ll ask Cotter to give you exclusive use of the forge at East Watch for a while. I think it is best you keep these experiments a secret.”  
Jon looked up and noticed that the sun had almost reached its peak. “It seems we have a plan. Come on, all that talking has left me thirsty.”

Gendry smiled and followed his friend. He still worried a bit about the possible repercussions of their talk with Jaime Lannister but he was glad he had been able to distract Jon for now by making him excited about something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is called ‘Home at last’. Jon needs to take care of a few things first but then can go and reunite with Dany. Finally!


	20. Home at last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited reunion of Dany and Jon is about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up immediately after the events of chapter 18. The trial in King’s Landing hasn’t happened yet at the start of this chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr.

His first morning back at the Free Folk settlement, Jon woke later than usual. He was alone in the tent. Even Ghost had abandoned him. He closed his eyes and sensed the direwolf roaming the nearby woods. He gently severed the connection and concentrated on his dragons. Rhaegal and Viserion were following a herd of wild horses. He nudged Rhaegal’s mind and was welcomed with alacrity. Together they searched for landmarks so he could inform Tormund where they could find this herd. Horses were not only valuable tools for the Free Folk, they were also a source of meat when food was in short supply. He said goodbye to Rhaegal and Viserion and quickly dressed himself.

Almost ready for the outside world, he focussed his hearing. Apparently this area of the camp was deserted. He tried to remember what had happened last night. He had been exhausted when he arrived. He distinctly remembered handing over the results of his sennight of scouting the Lands of Always Winter to Davos but was almost sure he in turn had received no news about the situation at Craster’s Keep, King’s Landing, Dragonstone or Winterfell. This realisation made him jump into action. In no time he finished his morning ablutions, answered the call of nature and was ready to go in search of Davos. In his haste, he bumped into Orell when he made the short turn to circumvent his tent. 

“Where are you off to in all haste?” his fellow warg asked him after regaining his balance.

“Sorry for that. I am looking for my companions. I am eager to receive news from my friends south of the Wall. Did you happen to fly over Craster’s Keep and see something of significance?” Jon asked eager to hear about that as well.

“The Night’s Watch made camp there a few days ago. Yesterday I witnessed them readying themselves to move out. I also saw a scouting party of four crows keeping track of the dead that were approximately two days away from reaching Craster’s Keep. Depending on the speed they are able to travel, Jeor Mormont and his men could reach the White Walker and his wights this evening. I overheard your people and Mance Rayder arguing about whether they should interfere or not.” The tone of Orell’s voice made it clear he wanted to ambush the enemy, probably to protect the baby and the women.

Jon frowned. “With all their arguing and delaying, they are out of options. If both parties clash today, nobody can get there besides you with your eagle or I on my dragons.” “Fortunately Jeor Mormont was smart enough to take enough men along. Even without dragonglass, if they remember to use fire they should be all right. Any chance you know where I can find my people?”

“Look for them in the big tent near the south pasture. That is where they gather when the sleeping tent is occupied. But Dragonrider, the small army of wights heading towards the keep has grown considerably since you last saw it. I saw lots of undead animals and even several large bears had joined their ranks. The White Walker certainly did his best to grow his army along the way. It is at least double the size of your last count.”

“Then Mormont is in trouble. Thanks for the heads up, Orell. You’re a big help to me and the Free Folk. I’ll let you know if I decide to fly towards Craster’s Keep in case you might like to join me.” He tapped the man’s shoulder as a goodbye gesture and went in search of his entourage.”

In the south pasture he noticed Rykker and Stokeworth and waved at them. The two men were helping the small folk care for their horses and sheep. He found Davos and Ser Arthur in the tent just as Orell had told him. Ser Arthur and Davos took their eyes off the game of dice they had apparently been engaged in and got up to greet him. When Jon enquired about the news that had arrived during his absence, Davos invited him to sit down with them and was quick to get him up to speed. 

“Varys has sent a message describing Littlefinger’s delight in presiding over the small council and how he keeps the traitor busy with insignificant issues like tavern brawls, increased food prices, sewer problems and other minor matters most of which Varys has created himself just for this purpose. According to the Master of Whisperers, King Robert and his Hand still need a few days to reach King’s Landing. I have received a message from them detailing an encounter with Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed before they reached White Harbour. The Prince apparently handed them additional evidence that he collected in the Riverlands to use against Littlefinger. 

More importantly, Ser Gerold has sent word that they have arrived safely at Dragonstone and have met with minimal resistance. Only a few people are currently kept imprisoned to prevent them from alerting the mainland. They are mostly servants and former guards of House Baratheon that opted to stay at the island because they married into families living on Dragonstone. Most of the smallfolk are happy with the changed circumstances and are looking forward to the arrival of their Prince and Princess. A small percentage doesn’t care either way as long as they are able to live in peace. Ser Gerold stresses nothing prevents you from claiming your seat in person”

“So they succeeded! Excellent! Let’s hope they can keep their presence at the island secret for a while longer. This really is good news, Davos! Please send a message to Ser Gerold that the men he imprisoned are to be given normal rooms, no dark cells. I agree they have to restrict their movements but I want them to be given decent food, adequate sleeping arrangements and fair treatment. As soon as I openly claim the Seven Kingdoms, they will get a chance to swear allegiance and become my subjects. I do not want to alienate them further by treating them like murders or rapists.”  
When he saw Davos’ consenting nod he asked eagerly “What about Ser Barristan’s mission?”

Ser Arthur and Davos exchanged smiles. Both men were glad to see their often too serious Prince so excited. Davos was quick to answer his question aware of how keen Jon was to hear about that part of the plan. “Ser Barristan is scheduled to arrive in Pentos ….” Davos calculated the days between the sending of the scroll and the timeline stipulated in the message. “If I have this right, Ser Barristan will arrive in Pentos on the morrow. They estimate it will take him the better part of three days to get everything organised. He expects the Princess will arrive at Dragonstone approximately ten or eleven days from now depending on the wind.”

“Let us hope for smooth weather.” Jon commented trying to keep his face blank so he would not be teased too much later. “Has other news reached you here?”

A scroll from Robb informs us about the arrival of Prince Oberyn and Lord Reed at Winterfell. Both have departed again by now. Prince Oberyn and his daughter are on their way to the Wall. Lord Reed has taken Bran with him and is headed back to Greywater Watch. The Tyrells are pressing Willas and Loras to return South but Robb writes that Loras wants to stay in the North a bit longer. Edric also opts to stay at Winterfell for now but promises to meet us at Castle Black well before we need to leave for Dragonstone. Another personal message from Edric was included for you. I did not open that. As far as I know you haven’t responded to his first one?”

Jon ignored Davos’ raised eyebrow and just accepted the tiny scroll. “What else?”

Davos hesitated but decided to not to pry. It was probably a personal issue between the two young men. If not, he was confident Jon would confide in him when the time was right. “Yara Greyjoy reports her uncle, Euron Greyjoy is attacking the shores of the Stepstones but encounters resistance from pirates. Oh and I received a scroll…” He searched his pockets and held out a rather thick scroll. “Here I didn’t open this one. I think you were expecting this?”

Jon’s eyes lit up when he looked at it. “From Daenerys? Finally, I was starting to worry.”

“As we all noticed.” Davos chuckled.

“Nothing else?”  
When Davos shook his head, told him that these were the more important matters and gently urged Jon to find a quiet spot so he could read his personal messages in private, Jon scowled and asked in a rather brusque tone, “What’s happening at Craster’s Keep? Do you know the position of the large scouting party led by Jeor Mormont and what news about the White Walker and his contingent of wights that are headed that way?”

He noticed Ser Arthur who had let Davos lead the conversation for now turn his head and exchange a significant look with Davos which Jon translated as ‘I told you so Davos. Just spill already.’

Still Davos hesitated. Jon turned to Ser Arthur. “Would you perhaps care to enlighten me? And where are Sandor and Tormund for that matter?”

Another look passed between Ser Arthur and Davos. It was Ser Arthur who provided Jon with the requested information. “Jeor Mormont and his large group will leave or have already left their encampment at Craster’s Keep and are on their way to intercept the small army of the dead. According to your warg friend…”

“Orell.” Jon helped him recall the name.

“Orell,” Ser Arthur nodded gratefully, “the contingent led by the White Walker you described has doubled in size. The Lord Commander’s group still outnumbers them but they will not realise what they are up against. Tormund and Sandor along with a few volunteers have left a few days ago as soon as your warg friend first brought the news of the increased enemy numbers. They plan to keep out of sight and will only interfere if Jeor Mormont makes a colossal mistake such as not using fire to fight them. I do not know if they will reach them in time though. They have taken most of the dragonglass with them. According to Orell, Mormont’s group and the dead will encounter each other tonight after dark or the next day at the latest.” Ser Arthur turned his head to the side and seemed once more to communicate with Davos. 

Davos took over. “Orell warned Tormund and Sandor that the White Walker had recruited some fierce animals. Big bears and shadow cats I think he mentioned amongst other creatures I have forgotten the name of.”

“And why did you keep that information from me? Am I not your Prince and future King? You were not with me at the time but surely you realise I did pass my seventeenth nameday some time ago. What do you expect me to do? Sit around a cosy bonfire tonight? Tell some funny stories and charm a few spearwives while at that exact same time hundreds of brothers of the Night’s Watch face an unknown, exceptionally lethal enemy?” Jon tried to keep his voice down but neither of the men missed the passionate somewhat exasperated tone of his voice.

“We want you to stay safe. I feared you would fly off before we had a chance to discuss strategies.” Davos argued. “I would have told you, I just ...” Davos’ hesitation gave Jon the opportunity to interrupt.

“I distinctly recall myself promising Ser Gerold I would not do that if it the situation allowed it. In this case, there still is most of the day to talk this through. I would only have to leave a bit before supper. I put my trust in you to keep me informed and let me be a part of the decision making, Davos.” Davos had the decency to look a bit guilty. Jon wanted to know why his normally so reliant adviser had such a differing opinion on this matter. Normally they understood each other almost without words. “Are you really of the opinion that it is the wrong move to fly out before dusk and lend my support if I notice they are in trouble?”

“Jeor Mormont put your life in jeopardy,” Davos started but this time Ser Arthur interrupted.

“No it is not stupid. It is a good strategy. Ser Davos knows this as well. Only, you will need to be smart about this and keep in mind that after you have saved their dumb, stubborn arses, it will remain dangerous to mingle with the brothers of the Night’s Watch. It only takes one vindictive crow to pierce your heart with a sword, a dagger or an arrow.”

“Thank you Ser Arthur.” Jon smiled gratefully at the knight noticing his language had got coarser over time. “It truly is the smart, the humane thing to do.” He turned to his Hand. “Davos, have you thought about the worst case scenario? Suppose these few hundred brothers of the Night’s Watch are caught unaware and are swarmed by the enemy. What if they panic, lose the battle and are recruited by the White Walker who then marches to Craster’s Keep and takes the baby for some nefarious reason we haven’t figured out yet. If somehow they leave Craster and his daughter-wives unharmed, they will still have grown their numbers significantly. Even if you do not care about the lives of hundreds of men of the Night’s Watch, it is imperative that we keep the enemy from recruiting more soldiers. It will be difficult enough to beat them with their current strength.” Jon watched Davos’ frown grow deeper while Ser Arthur nodded his assent. The knight clearly had come to this conclusion as well.

“That stubborn man!” Davos burst out. “He delays all of our carefully prepared plans. He doesn’t respect you enough to keep his men in line when they threaten your life. And you are willing to jump headlong into danger at the first mention of him being in a self-inflicted predicament. I do not like it. I do not like it at all. Even if you have a very good argument to help him and I know you have to go, I still do not have to like it.”

“Davos, please. I will take every precaution. I will focus on the White Walker and not let him out of my sight. I will anticipate his ice spear. Did Tormund leave a few dragonglass arrowpoints or some spearheads behind? Perhaps this time I can surprise him with a spear of my own. If he is as vulnerable to dragonglass as his wights, perhaps one perfectly aimed arrow will make his entire army powerless. Also, I want you to recall events at the Stony Shore. You witnessed with your own eyes how destructive a single burst of dragonfire can be. Rhaegal and Viserion have only grown more powerful since then. The three of us make a good team up there and we watch out for one another. My presence tonight may be the only thing that will save the brothers of the Night’s Watch.” Jon watched Davos’ frown disappear as the man mulled over Jon’s words.

Ser Arthur got up and fetched something from the far corner of the tent. “Tormund ensured me it is one of his best bows and you are already familiar with it.” He handed Jon a bow and a quiver filled with five arrows with dragonglass tips. “He asked me to tell you he would keep his eye out for you on the battlefield. That man knows you better than Davos.”

“Davos knows me well enough.” Jon and Davos exchanged a wan smile. “He just isn’t as eager as Tormund to send me into the fray. But thanks, Ser Arthur. This bow may be just what we need to defeat the entire army. The enemy has a very prominent weakness aside from fire and dragonglass. Take out their general and win the battle.”

“I pray you kill him first then.” Davos told Jon. “It seems I am in for another sleepless night. “

Jon touched Davos’ upper arm. “I’ll be back before you know it, Davos. I promise.” His next sentence was addressed to both men. “If you have any useful ideas, now is the time to come forward. Keep it short though, I am eager to read these messages.” 

They talked about possible strategies though they had to accept that since they did not know the exact terrain where the confrontation would take place, it was difficult to decide on anything but some general safety measures. Jon promised once more to be very vigilant and not to act on impulse but oversee the situation from up high. He would only make his presence known to the enemy after he had crafted a decent plan of attack. Soon Jon determined the subject had been exhausted for now. He eyed the dice in front of him. “Who was winning this time?”

“Young man, you will not succeed in distracting me.” Davos used a mocking tone but his expression was serious. “You have stalled long enough, son. I want you to tell me exactly what happened at Castle Black. Your reaction yesterday made me fear the worst. What have you said or done over there that made you act so guilty last night?”

Jon lowered his head in shame. “It is not something I am proud of Davos. But it will not harm our cause if that is what you are scared about.” And he proceeded to tell Davos and Ser Arthur all about his encounter with Jaime Lannister in the cell at Castle Black.  
Jon expected the mixed feelings on both men’s faces when he passed on Jaime Lannisters motives for stabbing King Arys in the back. Ser Arthur paled considerably. Jon knew from his own experience that the knight wondered how much this one misunderstood deed had affected all the bad choices Ser Jaime had made since then.

To Jon’s relief as soon as he had finished his confession as truthfully as his memory allowed, Davos granted him absolution saying nobody could be perfect the entire time and that things could have gone a lot worse. Jon promised to try and avoid similar confrontations in future before he left to read his personal messages in private. 

 

***

 

Jon still had ample time to himself before he had to leave. He retired to the sleeping tent and took out the two scrolls. He stared at them in indecision. Would he open Dany’s missive first or would he save it until after when he had dealt with the other one so he could give it his undivided attention and savour her words? His mind made up, he opened Edric’s message first. He had a good idea what it contained anyway. His friend indeed petitioned him once more to put in a good word with Lord Eddard Stark before he formally asked the Lord of Winterfell for a betrothal to Sansa Stark. Edric would be willing to wait twelve moons or more before making it public but he wanted Lord Stark’s promise she wouldn’t be betrothed to anyone else in the interim. He swore it was Sansa’s dearest wish as well as his own. Robb had given him the advice to enlist Jon’s help since he feared his father might have another betrothal for his sister in mind. Edric ended by reminding him of his lack of reply to his previous letter and pleaded him to at least send one this time even if it would not be the one he’d hoped for. 

Jon was hesitant to interfere. Lord Stark was still Sansa’s father. Jon should only overrule a father’s wishes for crucial political reasons, not to help a friend out however much he was sympathetic to his plight. He had been stalling with formulating a response, hoping the right solution would manifest itself. It would be cruel to leave Edric’s plea unanswered for much longer though. He resolved to write an answer today. He would suggest that Edric address Lord Stark directly leaving out that he had asked for Jon’s interference before approaching him. Jon could always attempt to subtly influence Lord Stark later should the man’s reply not be the one they wished for. He would also caution Edric not to use Sansa’s wishes as his strongest argument when he approached Lord Stark with his request. Sansa had only recently celebrated her fourteenth nameday and Lord Stark might wave away her feelings as nothing more than an imaginary infatuation of a young girl. Edric should build his case on his own merit.

He eyed the scroll from Daenerys eagerly anticipating the content of the long awaited missive. He swallowed and broke the seal in a determined fashion. He sighed when he saw the words made no sense and was reminded he needed to decode the message first. A bit later he put the message down disappointed with its content. The only thing it contained was a generic explanation why she hadn’t written to him sooner. She had no news to relate since her life was boring and nothing happened that was worth mentioning. She could only tell him once more how impatient she counted the days until it was safe for her to sail to Westeros and she hoped he was well and that they would meet soon. The reason the scroll looked thicker than usual was because she had included a drawing of a beautiful sigil that intertwined a dragon and a wolf. 

He closed his eyes and reached out to Ghost. Soon enough his loyal companion entered the tent and Jon hugged him until the wolf whined and readjusted his position to a more comfortable one. Jon laid his head on Ghost’s flank and forced his disappointment to subside. Contrary to her, he had so much happening in his life. He probably would go mad being forced to wait around for years to be allowed to go home and to have no real purpose to fulfil until that happened. Well she would be in better spirits on the morrow when Ser Barristan arrived in Pentos. Jon decided not to answer her message for now. Next time he contacted her she would be at Dragonstone.

 

***

 

At least half of the settlement had come out to wave Jon off. They cheered him on as the dragons made and extra circle over their heads before flying in the direction of Craster’s Keep. Orell for some reason had decided not to accompany him. No clouds hindered the cool light of the moon which meant he would be visible flying in. He might still have the element of surprise his first moments on the scene but it would be difficult to keep out of sight if he was too early. Jon decided to stay high up in the air and use his spyglass. That way he might see them before they noticed he was something more than a large bird. He hoped to have time to determine whether the Night’s Watch was able to deal with the situation on their own or not before deciding to show himself.

All his deliberations were in vain. When he arrived on the scene, the dead were attacking the Night’s Watch and had them cornered already. The army of the living were flanked by a mountain on their left and a half frozen lake at their backs. The enemy attacked from the front as well as the right side of Mormont’s formation. 

Jon didn’t spot the White Walker right away. He persuaded Rhaegal and Viserion to hold off the attack and shared a mental image of a White Walker with an ice spear. Viserion immediately answered with an image of his own. Jon checked and congratulated the silverwhite dragon. The White Walker sat atop his horse on the mountain flank close to the top overlooking the battlefield from up high. 

Both dragons immediately grasped Jon’s entire plan as soon as he sent an image of the first phase. Viserion waited until Rhaegal had circled around. The green dragon approached the White Walker from behind hovering just above the peak of the mountain. When Jon reached for his bow, Viserion provided the necessary distraction. He dove over the enemy and breathed fire over the entire length of their ranks. He circled back and repeated the same manoeuver over the other flank. All eyes were on him which gave Rhaegal the perfect opportunity to fly close enough to the unsuspecting White Walker. Rhaegal and Jon both were aware of the risk they were taking. Once they were spotted, Rhaegal’s large body would be an easy target hoovering at close range. They would be sitting ducks. For now, they were safe. The ice creature had its ice spear at the ready and was aiming for Viserion. The silverwhite dragon was taunting the White Walker by flying random figures while ascending slowly to give his human more time.

Jon’s first arrow hit the White Walker in the head. It stuck out of the back of his head but the creature stayed upright. It turned around and faced Jon who was hovering on Rhaegal a small distance separating them for the enemy. Jon’s second arrow was nocked and ready to fire. Jon urged Rhaegal to flee the exact moment he discharged his second arrow. This time he aimed for the ice creature’s heart.  
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself and watched the arrow fly straight to its mark. A large ice spear passed his arrow heading straight for his dragon. Rhaegal tried to evade the weapon with Jon holding on to the spikes on Rhaegal’s back for dear life, fearing they would not get away in time. Best case scenario the large spear would hit Rhaegal’s wing and not a vital part of his body. 

Suddenly fire lit up the sky before them. Viserion showed how smart and fast he was by targeting the spear and the icy thing never reached Rhaegal. The ice spear just kind of evaporated? Viserion had changed course as soon as the White Walker had turned its back to him, knowing the creature’s next spear would now threaten his brother and human. Having melted ice and snow several times before in order to help his human and his companions traipse faster across this godsforsaken winterland, the dragon had not hesitated to try and melt the spear.

When the smoke lifted the White Walker was no longer on the mountain flank. Jon still reeling from the events preceding their narrow escape soothed Rhaegal and asked him to fly over the spot where the Walker had stood only moments ago. Viserion joined his brother and together they discovered a small heap of ice crystals with Jon’s two arrows sticking from it and the decayed remains of what once used to be a big horse. He heard joyous shouting and turned his eyes to the battlefield. The men of the Night’s Watch were cheering with their weapons raised in the air. All around lifeless bodies of their enemy littered the battlefield. Not a single wight had survived. 

Jon saw Tormund, Sandor and a bunch of others wave at him from the rear end of the former enemy lines. A field of carcasses stood between them and the Night’s Watch. Jon waved back and signalled toward the direction he would land. Knowing he had time before they crossed the plain, he flew over the main host of the Night’s Watch to assess the number of casualties and look out if anyone down there required urgent assistance. He landed as close to their ranks as possible and waited for Tormund and his companions to arrive before sending Rhaegal back up in the air and approaching the brothers of the Night’s Watch. 

Jon searched the crowd when the battlefield fell silent. He noticed Tormund and Sandor weaving their way through the rotten remains of their defeated enemy in an attempt to get to him. Jon watched Edd Tollet hold his men back when Tormund burst into the open space and enveloped Jon in a bear hug. “My friend the Dragonrider to the rescue once more!” His voice boomed over the crowd on purpose, claiming Jon as his ally loud and clear. Sandor just nodded a greeting his face sporting a content expression for a change. Jon nodded back sensing the man was as least as happy as Tormund to see him. Only someone who knew Clegane well would be able to discern the relief in the big men’s eyes, relief to see that Jon was well and not in the process of being threatened by stupid crows again.  
Tormund released Jon and looked around to assess the situation. He sobered when he saw a few seriously wounded men. “Zalter here is a healer. Perhaps he can have a look at them?”

 

Jon’s hand was near the hilt of his sword when Edd Tollet and two of his ‘brothers’ crossed the small distance to come out to greet him. He soon learned that Jeor Mormont had been one of the first to fall. An undead shadow cat had jumped him and the man had fallen from his horse only to land on a discarded weapon of a fallen brother. It was too soon to have a reliable body count. Putting their information together, Jon and Tollet estimated that at least fifty brothers had perished.

This time nobody sneered at him when Jon walked past numerous men to reach the wagon where Jeor Mormont lay unconscious. Two men braved the fierce scowl of Tormund Giantsbane and enthusiastically thanked Jon. A third one started to clap his hands. Mere moments later that small gesture of appreciation had swelled into a loud applause accompanied by elated cheering. Jon had to worm his way through a sea of men to finally get to the Lord Commander. The man was unconscious and someone was awkwardly trying to dress a nasty looking abdominal wound. Jon reminded him to clean the wound first and encouraged them to transport their Lord Commander and perhaps a few other gravely injured brothers to Castle Black with only a small party and take the fastest horses. It would not do the Lord Commander any good to let the entire company slow them down. He assured Edd Tollet that the rest of the enemy was very far north and that they needn’t fear an attack from the Free Folk since they all fought on the same side now. A few men approached Jon and apologized for their previous behaviour. Jon accepted their excuses with grace. He stressed once more that they were all on the same side now and that was all that mattered. He promised he would fly to Castle Black to alert them of what happened so they could send for a healer from the nearest town south of the Wall.

 

***

 

At first light a wagon with three seriously injured men started its journey back to Castle Black. Jon had counselled Edd Tollet to burn the bodies of their fallen brothers. A large funeral pyre was lit as soon as all the names of the fallen had been recorded. Jon took his leave of Tollet promising him they would see each other again at Castle Black. 

Jon walked alongside Sandor and the Free Folk back to the place where the small party had left their horses. An eagle waited there for him. Jon smiled. He was glad he could now fly directly to Castle Black. He needn’t fly to the Free Folk Settlement first to reassure Davos. He quickly scribbled a short message for Davos. A few words to state he was okay, they had defeated the enemy and Sandor was on his way back and could provide more details. He tasked Sandor to request Davos to travel back to Castle Black where their Prince would await them. They should not worry about finding Ghost. The wolf was already on its way to Castle Black. When Sandor asked if that was wise what with Renly Baratheon and Jaime Lannister there, Jon just shrugged his shoulders and told him nobody was allowed to send messages south of the Wall for now.

 

***

 

This time, he did spot his Uncle Benjen when he flew over the white landscape. Despite the fact that the heavily loaded wagon with dragonglass weapons, Gendry’s figure on a horse next to his uncle and the two brothers of the Night’s Watch also on horseback increased their visibility from up high, it was the niggling feeling of the nearness of his four legged friend that had alerted Jon to the party below. It frustrated his uncle to no end that now that he was finally headed for the Free Folk settlement, Jon was flying in the opposite direction to warn Castle Black in all haste to fetch a healer. An irritated Benjen Stark practically forbade Jon to leave Castle Black and fly off on a whim before Benjen could return from his journey to the Free Folk settlement. Jon was not to go anywhere before they had a chance to spend some quality time together. 

Gendry grinned and told Jon he was grounded, literally. On Gendry’s urging however, Benjen Stark explained to the young blacksmith once more how to reach the Free Folk settlement before abandoning him. He turned his horse around and followed Ghost, galloping through the woods at great speed back to Castle Black to reunite with his nephew who of course would arrive there long before he could.

 

***

 

**A sennight and a half later**

Jon’s heart was beating so loud that he felt Rhaegal’s nervous reaction to it. Viserion screeched loudly next to him clearly affected as well. Jon made an effort to reassure his dragons. What image did you send them to explain to both dragons he was just excited to finally meet his aunt again? He smiled reassuringly at Viserion who was flying as close as possible leaving just enough room for their large wings not to hinder each other. It always amazed Jon how in sync both dragons were.  
An image of him embracing Daenerys did the trick. He felt their teasing reply but also their joy at finally meeting the other member of their small family. 

Jon estimated they were flying over the Driftmark now. The heavy cloud cover did not help his still developing navigating skills. It would have been more sensible to wait out the storm before starting the last phase of their journey but being so close had been too tempting. The three of them braved the storm and dove below the clouds. Jon was soaking wet in no time but he ignored it taking in the sight of the exotic build of the castle. 

This was Dragonstone! He had admired drawings before and has seen it from afar through Rhaegal’s eyes when he lived at the Driftmark but nothing had prepared him for the majestic sight from close by of this stronghold his Valyrian ancestors built when they first came to Westeros. It looked nothing like any castle he had ever seen. He saw with his own eyes what the books had told him about the advanced Valyrian design and the strong stonemasonry techniques used to make it a virtually impenetrable fortress. It would be the perfect refuge, the perfect outpost to start his campaign from. When he finally was able to tear his eyes away he noticed a large number of ships that danced on the waves sheltered in a bay a few miles from the beach. He strained his neck and saw another bay filled with anchored ships on the other side of the island. Matters had progressed nicely here while he had been stuck in the North.

As soon as he landed on a cliff near the castle he encouraged his dragons to seek shelter in the caves that were exactly where he had read they should be. Not long after, he regretted he had not asked Rhaegal to drop him off at the top of the long winding stairs. He was winded and even more soaking wet when he finally reached the large gate that provided entrance to the fortress. Either nobody had seen him descend from the clouds or they were all waiting safely inside so they could greet him without getting as wet as he was by now. Apparently it was the latter. Barely two steps inside Jon got pulled in to a strong embrace only to be released and pulled into another one and another one. Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam greeted him as if he was the long lost son returning after countless years of exile instead of it being less than two moons since they had parted ways at Sea Dragon Point.

After he had been hugged senseless by the three men that had gotten slightly wet in the progress and had enquired after their wellbeing, a servant approached carrying a few pieces of cloth he offered to the Targaryen Prince. The servant helped his new master discard his wet cloak and waited patiently for the young man to wipe his face and hands before making place for another servant who put a dry cloak over Jon’s wet clothes.

As soon as both servants left the hallway, Jon burst out. “Sam! I am so glad to see you. What are you still doing here?” 

Sam blushed. “Well, I … I found some books here that had been buried in a storage room under a pile of discarded Targaryen banners and ornaments and I just couldn’t resist. As soon as I started to read some of the older scrolls I was hooked.” His enthusiasm now made way for nervousness. “I did not disappoint you too much, I hope?” When Jon shook his head he continued once more with growing excitement. “I have been hunting specifically for hints on how best to forge weapons from dragonglass and I think I might have perhaps, possibly, eventually, but I am not sure, it is just a theory…”

“Sam, slow down, speaking so fast is making me dizzy. A theory of what exactly?”

“A long shot but worth trying out though, a theory on how to forge Valyrian Steel!” Sam waited with eagerness for his reaction.

“Wow! Sam, should you succeed in that endeavour, that would be the most important find in a thousand years. If there is even the slightest chance of creating something in the vicinity of that, I give you leave to postpone your Maester studies indefinitely. But let us talk about this later this evening. I need to change out of these wet clothes before I meet the Princess Daenerys.”

Ser Gerold who had not taken his eyes of his Prince relishing his safe return, interfered before Sam could butcher this delicate reply with his stammering. He scraped his throat to draw Jon’s attention back to him. “The ship carrying the Princess home has not arrived yet. They left a day later than planned and the storm will probably have delayed them a bit as well.”

“Let us get you out of these wet clothes, my Prince. You will want to greet your new household staff after you are a bit more presentable. I’ll alert the cook to prepare some hot soup as well as a hearty meal.” Ser Oswell spoke up seeing his Prince shiver. “Come on, I’ll escort you to the room that has been prepared for you.”

Upon entering a large room on the first floor of the castle, Jon looked around with amazement. He admired a wall covered with large Targaryen banners. Two beautiful dragon statues adorned a large crate in a corner. Every direction he looked, he spotted some exotic looking ornament most of them containing some reference to Valyria or House Targaryen. Even the furs on the bed were dyed in the colours of his father’s house. ‘My house,’ he mentally corrected himself.  
“I bet this chamber was not in this state when you arrived here.” Jon looked at Ser Oswell who clearly was enjoying his Prince’s approval of his new quarters. 

“As a matter of fact, it was. Or at least it was halfway through its transformation. The servants started redecorating it as soon as our first scouts spread the rumours of your imminent arrival after Stannis had left. This only shows how welcome you are at Dragonstone, my Prince.” Ser Oswell’s eyes were moist when he finished this sentence. 

“I want to meet every single person who has helped to achieve this result. I want to thank them from the bottom of my heart. I presume these were my father’s quarters, as Prince of Dragonstone?” 

“Yes, my Prince. And they are once more the quarters of the ruling Prince of Dragonstone. The servants wanted to help you change but I held them off for now wanting to clear this with you first. I know you are not used to being attended at all times of the day. You will need to adapt a little, my Prince. But I have given you a brief moment of respite and they will adjust to your habits. But please consider that they need the employment so allow them to do some things for you. It will make them happy as well.” 

Ser Oswell moved to a door to his left side. “Through that archway there is a cosy sitting room and study. Sam found a beautiful colour drawing of Prince Rhaegar and the servants hung it over the fireplace in there.” Jon followed Ser Oswell to the appointed spot.  
Both men contemplated the likeness for a long time. Ser Oswell swallowed several times to keep his tears at bay. 

That only heightened Jon’s emotions. “I look nothing like him.” He remarked softly after some time, regret apparent in his tone when he finally found his voice. 

“You do look like him, my Prince. Perhaps not at first sight what with your dark curls and Stark eyes. Look again. Compare your high cheek bones and delicate chin. Add to that the way you hold yourself, the way you move and almost dance while you are fighting. You are your father’s son, without a doubt. With Rhaegal and Viserion beside you, nobody will be able to deny you have the blood of the dragon. They alone are proof enough to convince even the most sceptical people in Westeros. If need be we have written proof as well.” 

“I am not talking about proof, Ser Oswell. I’m well aware that we have that in abundance. Lord Stark and Ser Gerold made sure of that. It is just that I want to be a true, a good Targaryen. I want to make my father, my family proud and I can’t explain why exactly I am plagued by this feeling that it would somehow be easier if I looked the part a bit more.”

“Those are just silly notions we grew up with, images that get stuck in our minds.” Ser Gerold made both of them startle with his surprise appearance in the doorway. “Just like you were taught the Free Folk were Wildlings, savages who didn’t matter and were to be kept contained with lethal force. I’m sorry if I scared you, my Prince. I just came to warn you that the servants are all gathering in the great hall and want a chance to greet their Prince. More specifically they want to see with their own eyes how the Prince and future King Aegon Targaryen Sixth of his Name ascends the ceremonial stone throne where the Prince of Dragonstone normally holds court for his very first time.”

“Then I will make quick work of putting on some dry clothes. I want to grasp this chance to oblige and thank the people that made me feel so welcome. Can someone show me where they put the finer outfits I left on the ship for you to bring here?”

“At least let him eat bit first, Ser Gerold.” Ser Oswell pleaded with his Lord Commander. “Our Prince has flown for the most part of the last two days.

“I’ll tell the servants our Prince needs a bit more time to recover from his long journey and will come as soon as he is able.” Ser Gerold immediately complied. 

 

***

 

The great hall was packed with smallfolk. The moment Jon entered the room from a side door behind Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell who had donned a new cloak for the occasion, a silence fell over the room. Ser Gerold motioned for Jon to stay put for a moment. The Lord Commander of his Kingsguard approached the steps before the throne and addressed the people.  
“Please welcome Prince Aegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Lady Lyanna formerly of House Stark. He is future King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Dragonrider.” He motioned for Jon to come forward. The Lord Commander kept his sharp eyes on the people in the front rows. He had ordered the new guards he had recruited amongst loyal families he knew from before and were still living on Dragonstone to search everyone for weapons and not to allow the smallest dagger inside the room. But still you could never be too sure.

Ser Oswell kept himself between his Prince and the smallfolk until Jon ascended the steps before the throne. Only then did the knight position himself before the steps to his Prince’s left. Ser Gerold mirrored his position at the right side of the throne. It was the first time Jon laid eyes on the beautiful room. To do so in front of at least a hundred witnesses made the experience even more surreal. He was aware that everybody was waiting to catch their first glimpse of his face. It intimidated him even more than the sight of the throne before him, the throne of the Prince of Dragonstone. 

The small drawing in the book on House Targaryen did not do this seat justice. The sight of this throne, and the entire majestic feel of the room, took him by surprise. He was overwhelmed by the righteous beauty of it all. The throne was carved out of a large piece of volcanic rock in such an artistic way that it looked as if the rock’s sole purpose for existing had been to put the Prince of Dragonstone into the spotlight and to exhibit the power of House Targaryen. Jon noticed the carvings had the form of dragon scales. A triangular shaped window behind the throne filtered the sunlight that fell on the seat to make the ceremonial chair look even more magical. In some places the warm rays of the sun lit up the neatly polished rock so it looked as if numerous silver leafs were seamlessly embedded into the dark grey rock. With difficulty Jon tore his eyes away from this symbol of Targaryen power and finally turned around to face his people who had stayed silent while they waited for the first real glimpse of their Prince. Jon swallowed and turned around praying fervently that his predominant Stark features would not disappoint them. 

To Jon it felt as if the crowd was stunned by his sight. His nervousness grew. Then, one person in the front row kneeled, a few others followed and soon the entire audience paid their respect to the newly arrived Prince of Dragonstone in a similar fashion. Jon needed all his mental strength to conceal how out of his depth he suddenly felt. He hadn’t done anything yet to deserve the subservience of these people but still every single one of them granted it to him without prejudice. He felt overwhelmed and the feeling of belonging, of homecoming only got stronger. He stared at his subjects who had kept their kneeling position. Ser Gerold smiled encouragingly at his Prince when Jon ventured a look his way.

“Please rise, people of Dragonstone.” Jon was glad his voice somehow still sounded firm and didn’t betray the myriad of emotions warring inside of him. He waited patiently until everyone stood once more and the low murmurs had dimmed somewhat before continuing.

“I thank you all for the warm welcome I received from you. I will treasure the memories of this day for as long as I live.” He paused to take in the sight before him. His eyes swept over the crowd. He wanted to give his loyal audience the impression he noticed each and every one of them. He also observed Sam standing unobtrusively next to the side door Jon had come through. His friend held a flat wooden tablet and was scribbling fervently. Jon guessed an empty scroll not visible to his eyes lay on top of this makeshift portable desk and Sam was recording things for posterity.  
He would have a word with Sam about this later. 

For now he focused his attention on the crowd before him. He took heart in the devotion he witnessed in their demeanour. This time he knew his voice would be firm and loud enough so that his words would find their way even to the people standing against the main door at the back of the room. The sight of the three headed dragon carved in the wood of that large door visible above the crowd distracted him for an instant. Somehow the Targaryen sigil inspired him and all of a sudden he knew what he was going to say to the crowd that was waiting patiently for their Prince to continue his address.

“Tomorrow my kin, Princess Daenerys, daughter of King Arys and Queen Rhaella will arrive from Pentos where she was forced to live in exile all these years. I hope you will give her the same warm welcome as I have received when she finally comes home to the place where she was born. Dragonstone belongs to House Targaryen once more and by the grace of the Gods, we will never have to give it up again!” His voice had risen in volume at the end of this declaration. A loud spontaneous applause followed his words. Jon waited for it to lessen before he continued.

“Not only did I bring two powerful dragons with me, I am fortunate to have the support of three loyal knights, members of the Kingsguard that once served my father, Prince Rhaegar. Many of you will recognise to my right the Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower and to my left Ser Oswell Whent. Ser Arthur Dayne who is currently helping our allies in the North, survived the Rebellion as well and will join us later. I owe my life to these three excellent men. Together with House Stark, my mother’s kin, they have protected me from the first moment I was born until this very day. I hope to have their loyal support for years to come.” Loud cheers erupted as soon as Jon paused once more. He let them run its course enjoying the fact that Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell for once got their time in the spotlight. When the cheers had almost died down, he held up his right hand to silence them so he could continue his speech. He felt empowered by their response and knew this was his opportunity to cement their loyalty and support. 

“All around the realm, allies are working together to help House Targaryen regain its rightful place as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. And I thank each and every one of them. Their silence and discretion have kept me safe for seventeen years. An important part of our strategy to restore the Iron Throne to House Targaryen is stealth and surprise. I beseech you all not to endanger our campaign by sending word of our presence here to the mainland. If we can keep this knowledge from reaching King’s Landing for the time being, our plan to …” Jon faltered. _‘Could he really do this? Be so brazen as to claim the throne so publicly, tempt the Gods?’_

He swallowed and tried once more. “If the Gods are willing, we will depose Robert of House Baratheon with a minimum of bloodshed, and I, Aegon Targaryen vow to you that I will rule the Seven Kingdoms, protect the realm, make it prosper and will do my utmost to keep the peace for as long as I shall reign. So I urge you once more not to send word neither to friends nor family outside of Dragonstone. I count on you all to keep us safe.”

The crowd cheered very loudly now. Someone shouted “All hail King Aegon, Sixth of his name! Long may he reign!” This shout was picked up by others and soon the hall was filled with similar chants. This time Jon’s hand gestures didn’t incite the crowd to stop making noise and listen to him once more. He looked over to Ser Gerold for guidance. The man shrugged his shoulders slightly only perceptible to Jon and smiled proudly. Jon waited a while longer. He turned his head slightly to study the throne. It seemed to lure him in, stronger even, its magnetism seduced him into sitting on it. He stayed upright however, knowing his speech would make a greater impact that way. Finally the cheering lessened. 

“Some of my allies have already reached these shores. For the next sennights more ships carrying loyal men from the North, the Riverlands, the Driftmark and from Dragonstone as well will arrive. They will bring food and other resources with them. Also merchant ships with grain will arrive from Pentos. I urge you all to work closely together with these men who are ready to defend our shores against an attack if need be. Help them organize shelter and prepare meals. Together we will ensure Dragonstone will once more become an impenetrable Targaryen stronghold and a safe haven for all who live here. Let me thank you all again for this amazing welcome.” 

During the standing ovation he received Jon lowered himself gracefully onto his ancestral throne. The happy wide smile he showed the crowd came naturally. The feeling of belonging and homecoming grew stronger than ever. Never in his short life had he been more certain than at this exact moment that what he was doing now was what he had been born to do. His destiny lay here, on these shores. Fuck the Iron Throne. Once Robert Baratheon was gone and he was officially proclaimed the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, he would rule the Seven Kingdoms from Dragonstone. King’s Landing could be the capital in name but he would not sit upon that cursed throne. Jon realised his feelings were not rational but were coloured by this experience. He perceived everything through a drunken haze, not due to alcohol but encouraged mostly by the admiration of the crowd and the sight of this imposing stronghold. In this state, nothing, nobody could persuade him that the much fought over Iron Throne would inspire the same feelings in him. When the cheers died out of their own accord, he was at a loss for what to do next. 

Ser Gerold sensing his Prince’s indecision dismissed everyone by stating that their Prince had just arrived after a long journey and that they would have plenty of opportunity to see him around now that he resided here. Slowly but surely the crowd poured out of the Great Hall.

“You did well, my Prince.” Ser Gerold praised him when they were finally alone.

“He did exceedingly well,” Ser Oswell said with obvious approval. “If you can make such an inspiring speech when tired and taken unawares, we should have used your words as our weapons earlier. A few rousing speeches like this in every corner of the Seven Kingdoms and the people will carry you to the Iron Throne upon their shoulders.”

Jon blushed scarlet. “Do not exaggerate please. This was just a happy fluke. The audience was on my side before I uttered a single word. The smallfolk here loved my father and I am fortunate they accepted me as his son despite my looks.” 

“Do not be so humble my Prince. That attitude won’t win you the Seven Kingdoms. “This hearty welcome was not solely because of their love for Prince Rhaegar. The people of the Driftmark that came here to help prepare for your arrival have spread word of your personality, your deeds, the way you control your dragons and have told stories about your loyal exotic looking direwolf.” Ser Gerold was quick to point out.

“I am very fortunate,” was Jon’s only answer.

“As soon as you feel up to it, we need to hold a strategy meeting. I have received updates from the capital written by Varys but containing things Eddard Stark asked him to write. I also want to know what mess you got yourself into at the Wall. The few reports that reached me are probably incomplete, not telling the whole story and dated by now. Still, some of them have me worried.” Ser Gerold was quick to get back to business.

Jon looked around but Sam appeared to have left as well. Probably to write everything down now it was still fresh in his mind.  
Perhaps we can reconvene after lunch? I only ate a few spoonfuls of a delicious soup. I presume there is a meeting room somewhere in this impressive stronghold?”

“There is, my Prince.” Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell spoke at the same time. Ser Gerold signalled Ser Oswell to proceed.

“If you so desire, I will show you around later today, my Prince.” The knight offered and bowed.

“Not so formal when in private, please.” Jon smiled at the two men. “I thank you, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell but if Princess Daenerys arrives tomorrow, I want to discover the sights of Dragonstone together with her. If you can show me where to find the meeting room then that will be sufficient exploring for today.”

“We both will escort you there after lunch, my Prince.” Ser Gerold promised.

“Oh and I will want Lord Samwell Tarly to be present at our meeting as well. He will become a fixed member of my small council as soon as he is a Maester in his own right. We might as well profit from his wisdom now that he is still with us. Even without formal training he has already proven himself a valuable asset and I consider myself lucky to have his counsel.”

“As are we, my Prince.” Ser Gerold affirmed.

 

***

 

After supper, in the formal meeting room of his castle with the beautifully carved table, Jon learned that his uncle, Eddard Stark together with the King and his retinue had arrived at the Red Keep a few days before. Apparently they had not wasted any time. Two new laws had been put before the small council and Littlefinger would stand trial any day now. The King appeared sober and according to Varys’ account he had also lost a bit of weight. 

Jon received this news with mixed feelings. “Uncle Ned passed the law about limiting the authority of armed guards already? I thought this would be one of my first reforms when I became King. It was my idea to improve the lot of the people in King’s Landing and garner their goodwill in the process.” He shook his head. “What is Uncle Ned thinking?”

“He is being his honourable self and putting the well-being of the people first and our cause second.” Ser Gerold’s tone was disapproving. “If it is any consolation to you, my Prince, I do not think he did so with the intent to harm you. I am inclined to believe he got carried away. I suggest you write a diplomatic letter to him through Varys. Perhaps Sam can help you with that?”

Jon looked at Sam who tried to stay inconspicuous. His friend smiled back at Jon as soon as their eyes met. “Sam, perhaps we can address this issue tonight if I am not too tired.” 

“Of course, Jon. I mean, my Prince.” The young man stammered.

“Jon in private is still allowed, Sam.” Jon sighed. “Please everyone. I am not a King yet. Nothing has changed.”

“This is where I politely contradict you, my Prince.” Ser Oswell interjected before Ser Gerold got the chance. “Moments ago, you became the ruling Prince of Dragonstone and publicly announced your future role as King. “People perceive you different now and that includes us as well.”

“Not to mention to us Targaryen loyalists, you have always been our King but we adhered to your orders and addressed you as our Prince for the time being. We will need to start calling you Aegon instead of Jon as well.” Ser Gerold added in an unwavering manner.

“But in private ...”

“We will still treat you with the respect you are due.” At Jon’s exasperated expression he relented. “But we will try to be a bit less formal than we need to be in public.” His words were supported by consenting nods from Ser Oswell and Sam.

“You cannot escape your destiny, Aegon. Besides you are embracing it just fine even if you are struggling with the formalities of a royal court. You are a born leader. The slight increase in formality in our address is just our way of showing you how much we love and respect you.” Sam looked apologetic but still made his point by calling his friend Aegon for the first time.

“Our young Tarly has a wonderful way with words. Do we really need to send him to the Citadel?” Ser Oswell remarked half-jokingly.

Jon however considered this last question in all seriousness. “I have been struggling with this as well. Sam however needs to decide for himself what his priorities are for the moment.” He smiled wryly at his friend. “Perhaps we can talk about this, the two of us at some time in the next few days? I trust you will stay with us for at least a few more days?”

“Of course, Aegon. But I am curious to hear about your adventures at the Wall. Did you meet more White Walkers? Did you encounter Jaime Lannister or Prince Renly Baratheon at Castle Black? I think I can speak for all three of us when I say we are bursting with curiosity.”

“Sam, at least in private, please don’t call me Aegon. It sounds strange coming from a friend who has known me as Jon. If you do not want to use that name anymore, can we agree on my Prince for now? I have gotten used to that appellation over the years.”

When Sam didn’t respond, Jon launched in an uncensored detailed chronological account of everything that had happened since they had parted at Sea Dragon Point. Even though his audience knew much of the first part of his story from reading his messages already, they were riveted and Jon was interrupted a few times by curses or requests for more specifics, the latter mostly from Ser Gerold. Sam was scribbling fervently. Jon explained Jeor Mormont had perished two days after returning to Castle Black. His nasty abdominal wound had become infected and the man had succumbed to a fever. 

“Lord Reed had it right again.” Sam remarked. When Ser Oswell looked baffled he explained. “Can’t you see? Jeor Mormont perished by obtaining a deadly wound when he fell on a friendly sword of a defeated ally. But he fell because he was pushed by an undead shadow cat. Don’t you remember the vision he revealed to Jon at Greywater Watch? The one that we tried so hard to make sense of? _‘Lion trumps bear without either one using their claws’._ A large shadow cat can easily be mistaken for a lion.” 

Jon nodded gravely at Sam and then continued to describe how according to Edd Tollet the gravely wounded man had been conscious during large parts of their return journey to Castle Black and that once there he had apologized to Jon. Shortly before he died he had gifted his Valyrian sword Longclaw to Cotter Pyke after Jon had politely declined the gift himself excusing his refusal by showing him Blackfyre and hinting that a worthy purpose for the sword could be to become the Valyrian Sword of The Wall. If Mormont agreed, it would be handed down to each new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch from now on. 

Jon described how the Night’s Watch had trouble dealing with their injured now that they no longer had their own Maester. He had asked Cotter Pyke to search for a volunteer amongst the brothers of the Night’s Watch who was intelligent enough to send to the Citadel to start a Maester’s training. That way, if the Citadel didn’t want to condemn a Maester to serve at the Wall for the rest of his life, they only needed to send a temporary replacement until that time that the Night’s Watch recruit had forged his chain.

Cotter Pyke was still interim Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch back then and had promised to do his utmost. Upon Jon’s request he would also release Jaime Lannister from his solitary confinement as soon as Jon and most of his retinue had left Castle Black and would encourage Prince Renly to give up his self-inflicted isolation.

“The Watch still needs to elect a new commander?” Sam asked.

“Two days after Jeor Mormont’s funeral, Cotter Pyke was formally elected as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. It was fascinating to see how everybody gets a vote to elect their leader. It gives even the lowest recruit a say and makes him feel he can make a difference. It made me question some of our appointments.” Jon looked at his audience and saw Sam was the only one who nodded. The others looked rather sceptical at this unfamiliar concept.

“Anyway the new Lord Commander faced his first challenge mere moments after he was elected when he was forced to welcome Prince Oberyn and the exotic looking Nymeria Sand, one of the Prince’s beautiful young daughters to Castle Black. I witnessed the strict orders he gave his men when Prince Oberyn and his daughter were escorted to their quarters by Rykker and Stokeworth. The brothers of the Night’s Watch were to keep their distance and not engage the lady in conversation if they could avoid it. He threatened with harsh punishments if disobeyed.”

“I bet his popularity took a dive.” Ser Oswell remarked. 

Jon ignored this interruption and continued. “Prince Oberyn received his orders as well. His daughter was not allowed to wander about by herself, she had to be chaperoned by at least two trusted men at all times. Pyke even instructed her to conceal her feminine features by dressing in male clothes and cover up her long hair.”

“I would have liked to witness that scene.” Ser Gerold was the one that interrupted him this time.

“I found something to take their minds off that and separate the two slightly insulted Dornish from Cotter Pyke immediately.” Jon said matter of fact. 

When he noticed two raised eyebrows, one of Ser Gerold and the other of Ser Oswell, he explained.  
“I invited the Prince and his daughter to accompany me the top of the Wall and asked Uncle Benjen to come along within earshot of Cotter Pyke. Now follows the scene you should have liked to witness, Ser Gerold. Once they exited the wooden elevator Nymeria as well as her father fell silent, awed by the sheer magnitude of the ice structure combined with the amazing winter landscape that stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Uncle Benjen and I shared a secret smile, acknowledging this was the first time ever we had been able to successfully shut Prince Oberyn up for a substantial amount of time.” 

He paused to check whether his audience appreciated his tale as much as he did remembering it. Everyone smiled but stayed silent eager to hear the next part.  
Jon continued his report by relaying they had enjoyed each other’s company for two days before Jon needed to leave for a scouting mission. Nymeria had sparred with him but this time her father hadn’t taken the bait, not even after Jon’s teasing that he was afraid of losing against a green boy.

What he didn’t tell them was how Prince Oberyn had expressed his worries about Robb Stark handling the affairs of the Northern Kingdom. The Prince had described Robb’s worn out demeanour, Maester Luwin’s illness, underlining the fact that Robb didn’t have as many loyal advisors as a certain Targaryen Prince. Jon didn’t want Robb to be humiliated in the eyes of others and immediately after thanking the Dornish Prince for informing him, he had entreated Prince Oberyn to keep this information to himself, promising Prince Oberyn he would personally see to it that Robb got the necessary support.

He did tell Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Sam that Prince Oberyn and his daughter had been disappointed that he could not spare them much time since he needed to abandon them for a scouting mission two days into their visit. Fortunately Uncle Benjen and Prince Oberyn had renewed their easy going relationship and Jon had left secure in the knowledge that Uncle Benjen would keep an eye on the impulsive Prince and make sure he didn’t get in too much trouble before Jon was able to return. He returned to Castle Black sooner than expected much to the relief of Davos Seaworth. Jon focussed his eyes on Ser Gerold now.

“I can report that the enemy was still stationed in the far North be it a bit closer to the east side where I spotted a special encampment of the army of the dead in a large open space flanked on all sides by a ring of imposing white mountains. I stayed at a safe distance and used my spyglass. I could clearly sense Rhaegal’s and Viserion’s reluctance to fly closer. I must confess I am still none the wiser as to what the enemy’s next move is going to be. It is impossible at this stage to determine a time schedule. The only thing I can safely conclude is that we have a respite of at least a moon most likely even several.”

Spotting Ser Gerold’s dejected look, Jon was quick to point out the positive sides of this situation. “Time will work in our favour, Ser Gerold. The Night’s Watch and the Free Folk can start strengthening their defences. Gendry and his assistants will have ample time to provide the brothers of the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk with sufficient dragonglass weapons. I made sure both parties were convinced of the need to prepare defensive traps around the fortresses along the Wall and the Free Folk settlements.” Jon coughed. He was getting hoarse from all the talking and looked around for something to drink. Ser Oswell was the one to hand him a cup of water and Jon took it gratefully. He drank half of the contents quickly and filtered through his news deciding not to tell them about his conversation with Sandor Clegane or Benjen Stark just yet. 

He put the cup down and continued his account.  
“I do not have to explain how disappointed Prince Oberyn and Nymeria were when they learned that almost immediately after returning from the scouting mission not only I but the rest of my loyal group were planning to leave Castle Black. Prince Oberyn took me aside and complained the journey had taken so long and he hardly got to spend some time with me.” 

Jon looked at Sam when he continued. “I suggested he could travel to King’s Landing now and accept the position on the small council that had recently been offered to him by the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark. The Prince immediately jumped at the chance now that things were developing quickly. He even winked at me and told me he wanted to be at the center of the action when everything went down. He mockingly ordered me to wait for him before staging my coup. “

 

If everyone left Castle Black aside, then where are they now?” Ser Gerold asked, perplexed that Sandor and Ser Arthur would abandon their post.

“The ship with dragonglass arrived on the east coast, Ser Gerold. That is why Davos, Ser Arthur, and Gendry have left for Eastwatch the same day I started to fly south. They have taken Ghost with them. Rykker and Stokeworth were allowed to come along as well and will act as my protection detail when I join them at Eastwatch. Prince Oberyn and his daughter eventually decided to accompany them and sail to King’s Landing from Eastwatch.  
Gendry will put the old workshop at that fortress back in working order and will immediately start the enormous task of forging weapons from the large quantity of dragonglass that ship has brought north. I urged him to train more men to assist him and not to overdo it. I assured him we have more time than expected before the dreaded confrontation. Lord Commander Pyke has written an order to the current garrison commander there to facilitate the new arrivals as much as is reasonable and to assign men to assist the young blacksmith in every way they can.”

“Davos, after long deliberation, decided to board the same ship escorting the Prince and his daughter that left for White Harbour. Once there they will split up since Davos will assume command of one of our five ship formations leaving White Harbour with destination Dragonstone and the Prince will find a ship that sails directly to King’s Landing. It took me a little effort to convince Ser Arthur to join Davos on this voyage south. I argued I would not be with them the first few sennights and when I do return to Eastwatch, I will be safe enough there. The Night’s Watch doesn’t pose a threat any longer. Rykker and Stokeworth will be there with me. Sandor will help coordinate the defences between the Free Folk and The Night’s Watch at Castle Black.”

“Does that mean you will not return to Castle Black at all?” Ser Oswell had trouble keeping up with Jon’s fast changing plans. 

“I plan to use Eastwatch as a base of operations once I return to the Wall. I estimate that will be after a stay here at Dragonstone of probable two or three sennights. Coordinating with the leaders of the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch will be easy for me since the distance between Eastwatch and Castle Black means nothing when travelling on dragon’s back. That way Jaime Lannister and Prince Renly needn’t be confined for my sake. Besides, Sandor is still my direct contact over there.”

“Before they could ask further questions he explained that Jaime Lannister had been imprisoned beneath the castle and that Prince Renly appeared to be on house arrest of some sort. The Baratheon Prince had not left his quarters who Jon had been reassured were quite luxurious for Night’s Watch standards. Cotter Pyke claimed that the Prince’s confinement was of his own volition. Jon noticed Sam’s queer look when he mentioned Jaime Lannister and he swiftly continued his tale so nobody could think to ask any questions. 

“Before flying south, I made a quick stop at the Free Folk settlement and gave them the newest information on the enemy’s position in person. I also provided some recommendations on building up their defences and assured Mance and Tormund that dragonglass weapons were being produced in abundance and they would get their share. More importantly, Orell has promised to check the position of our enemy every other sennight and Mance Rayder will send regular reports to Castle Black.” 

 

Jon concealed for now that during his goodbye visit to the Free Folk settlement, Sandor Clegane had asked to talk to him and had immediately come out and explained his dilemma. He was loyal to Jon to a fault and would uphold his vows but he was also very sure that after his time with the Free Folk, he would have even more difficulty to build some semblance of a normal life in the South. He had never fit in there before and he would even less now that he had discovered the Free Folk. They were his kind of people … blunt, honest, crude. He had even started to entertain the thought of starting a family here and perhaps even siring children, something he had never thought possible for him before. 

From a very young age he had come to understand that people abhorred his scars and that women not only thought him ugly but were actually scared of him, even before he approached them and was able to utter a single word, southern women would walk an extra mile in bad weather just to avoid having to meet him and being forced to offer a greeting.  
Here, beyond the Wall, the women loved his look, his attitude, his strength even his way of talking. Here beyond the Wall, he wore his scars as a badge of honour. Here he had friends, real friends that he could talk to and that understood him and he them. He confessed he had taken a liking to a fierce woman with red hair who would not hesitate to steal him the moment he subtly let her know he was partial to it.

Jon had listened attentively and had nodded a few times during Clegane’s tale. He didn’t hesitate with his response. “I need a representative here in the north, Sandor. You are actually solving a problem for me. Benjen Stark needs to return to Winterfell for a while and I would love to have my uncle visit me regularly or even stay in the South. You could become my official liaison, my representative here at the Wall with the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk. I would ask of you to visit Castle Black at regular intervals, the frequency of these visits depending on the situation at the time but that would not prevent you from living amongst the Free Folk. I am happy for you Sandor, truly.” Jon had refrained from touching the big man but he knew Sandor was moved when he noticed the slight shifting of the big man’s jaw.

He kept that conversation to himself. Neither would he divulge the details of his meeting with Uncle Benjen. They both had felt the strain on their relationship caused by Jon’s frequent absences. An open-hearted discussion had ensued and they had reached a consensus. Uncle Benjen would write a letter to Robb announcing his imminent visit. He would leave the Wall once he was sure Jon’s entourage had reached Eastwatch safely and Gendry needed no extra resources. Benjen Stark would then travel to Winterfell, help Robb set matters straight over there. After that he would be free to come south to become a fixed part of Jon’s inner circle there. Uncle Benjen had joked he had the best claim to be named grandfather to Jon’s children. Both men had said an emotional goodbye comforted by the happy prospect of a shared future.  
Knowing Ser Gerold’s rigid stance on the tasks of his Kingsguard he would wait until the situation at the Wall was resolved to inform him he was one Kingsguard short.

 

Ser Gerold’s discreet cough brought Jon back to the present. He quickly ended his account by relaying how the flight to Dragonstone had gone smoothly except for the last spell of bad weather. Soon after, they adjourned the meeting. The rest could wait since Jon would be with them for longer than they had expected. 

 

***

 

That night Jon slept in a bed fit for a king bed and dreamt of a future where things would be easier. The last part of his dream had been strange however. He had enjoyed the sight of three young children playing with the black egg. He woke up with a start remembering he had forgotten to ask Ser Gerold where they had hidden the third dragon egg. He planned to show it to Dany soon after her arrival. 

 

***

 

Dany stood at the bow of the ship and watched how the shoreline and the fortress grew bigger with each mile they sailed closer to the island. She had put on her best dress. It had taken Septa Moelle and herself ages to embroider it but it had been worth the effort. She knew she looked regal. The people at Dragonstone would immediately recognise her for the Princess she was. She hoped her nephew would be proud of her.

Ser Barristan had told her Prince Aegon most likely would still be at the Wall facing a mythical enemy but she was not so sure he was right. She could have sworn she had spotted a dragon earlier and had asked the loyal knight to procure a spyglass for her. As soon as he reappeared with the requested item, Dany awkwardly pointed it at the spot where she had been so sure she had spotted the silverwhite animal. Thoroughly scouring the green landscape with the spyglass didn’t make her any wiser. Disappointed she handed the spyglass back to Ser Barristan. The man however didn’t accept it right away. In fact he didn’t notice her holding it out to him. His head was lifted upwards and he seemed to be admiring something. Daenerys followed his gaze. Heavens be praised. There they were. The silverwhite dragon, Viserion she recalled, was flying towards their ship followed by his brother Rhaegal. Daenerys filled with relief laughed out loud. If both dragons were here, then her nephew was here as well. She waved enthusiastically at the dragons. Her heart sang with joy. She was here, he was here. They were home!

 

Daenerys almost forgot the royal impression she wanted to make on the large crowd who had gathered to welcome her home. She refrained herself at the very last moment from jumping out of the small rowing boat that carried her to the beach. Slowly she made her first tentative steps on the white sand, her eager eyes searching for the dark curly head of her nephew amidst the crowd.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. The crowd had split in two and were bowing to him as he strode purposely toward her, his head held high. If anyone looked regal, it was him. Despite his youth, he exuded leadership and had a charming personality that apparently already had won him devotion of the smallfolk here at Dragonstone. She hesitated, not sure how to conduct such a public greeting. Her nephew also faltered a fraction of a moment when their eyes met but then a welcoming smile lit his handsome features and he continued his approach. When he stood a mere step away, he took both of her hands in his and kissed her right cheek.  
“May I be the first to welcome you to our ancestral lands, Princess Daenerys? I wish only happy days will befall you on these shores.” A playful wink belied the formality of his words. 

“I thank you, Prince Aegon. I am glad to finally be home where I belong.” She played along for the benefit of the crowd to which she addressed her next words. “I thank you all for this nice welcome. It warms my heart to see House Targaryen still counts so many devoted supporters on this island that has been our family’s home for centuries and is our home once again. I promise the Prince and I will forever be grateful for your unwavering loyalty.” 

Happy cheers rose up. Jon exchanged a warm be it formal greeting for the sake of the crowd with Ser Barristan and thanked him for bringing Princess Daenerys home safe.

“I am glad to see you surrounded by the people of Dragonstone, my Prince. It warms my old heart to witness a trueborn Targaryen once more rules this castle.”

“Ser Jorah Mormont did not travel with you?” Jon asked the knight after acknowledging his statement with a nod.

“He volunteered to stay behind, close the villa and tie up other loose ends.” Ser Barristan hesitated before he continued. “You do realise that the pardon that was offered to him will have to be granted by a ruling King, so if you offer it to him now it will have no value until you are officially the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. King Robert can apprehend him the moment he sets foot on Westerosi soil and your father would be obliged to carry out the sentence he condemned Mormont to all these years ago.“

“He will be as safe on Dragonstone as the Princess. King Robert wants both their heads. Mine as well if he knew of my existence. Does Mormont not know that?” Jon countered.

“Rationally he does, the mind and the heart though are not always on the same side. He will rejoin Princess Daenerys’ entourage, my Prince, only with a slight delay. He is extremely loyal to her.”  
Ser Barristan smiled at seeing Daenerys mingle with the people. “The people see her and remember her brother.”

“The people seem to remember you too, Ser Barristan.” Jon looked pointedly at a group who was trying to get the knight’s attention. “Please take your time to greet them. I’ll escort the Princess to the great hall.” 

He held his arm out to Daenerys and when she took it, he firmly tucked her small hand under his elbow and led her to where Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell were discreetly keeping an eye on their Prince.  
“I believe you remember Ser Oswell from our visit in Pentos. That leaves me to present to you the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard, who once held the same position for your father and brother. This is Ser Gerold.” 

After a short polite exchange Jon took her arm again and proceeded to lead her towards the long winding steps she had read about in the beautiful bound book that always rested on her night stand ever since she had gifted it to her. The heavy tome was now safely packed in a trunk and had made the journey alongside her. It would soon find a place in her bedchambers once more.

“I hope your shoes are comfortable enough.” He whispered in her ear. “I haven’t counted the steps but they sure are numerous.”

“I’ll manage, besides I have your arm to lean on to.” She answered shyly and looked deep into his grey Stark eyes. They were the same intelligent, sensitive orbs she had so often dreamt of. 

“Always,” was his solemn reply and he returned the intensity of her gaze. 

Daenerys blushed but attacked the stairs with renewed energy. She was winded when they reached the top. “Amazing sight isn’t it.” Jon remarked when he saw her admire the large gate that provided entrance to the stronghold. Her cheeks were red from exertion, her breath a bit laboured. It only enhanced her attractiveness.

“Indeed. It is the first time I see the sigil of our house displayed so large and brazenly for all to see. I have only seen it in books and on some faded banners my brother had smuggled from Westeros.” Daenerys had just enough breath left to tell him.

“Is it really brazen to have your sigil decorate the door of your own stronghold?” he remarked in a slightly teasing tone.

“It is when it is that large and ostentatious.” She returned his smile feeling happy that he was so playful in her company.

He waited till her breathing had evened out and they both admired the view from up there. Then he took her hand in his again. “Come on, let me show you inside. I have only seen the throne room and the few rooms I used to eat, hold a meeting in and sleep. It was enough though to be mighty impressed with our ancestors who built this place.”

Daenerys stopped him the moment the large door closed behind the four of them. The two Kingsguard moved a bit to the side to give them some privacy. She turned to him with wide eyes. “You have only … Aegon, or do you still call yourself Jon? When did you arrive?” She saw the colour rise in his cheeks. 

“Yesterday. I had calculated you would arrive yesterday and I wanted to be there too to...” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Daenerys had embraced him. Her slim arms were hugging him fiercely. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ears. “It means a lot to me that you made the effort to come all this way. It means you still want me with you. I worried that I was just another duty for you, just another responsibility.”

“If you are, you are certainly the most beautiful one.” He teased but the light in his eyes betrayed he was flirting a bit with her. “You are not just another duty. You are my kin, the only kin of my Targaryen family.” He slowly entangled her arms from his neck and tucked her hand under his elbow once more. His eyes had lost a bit of their warmth and seemed more reserved all of a sudden. She hoped it was because he remembered the recent demise of their Uncle Aemon or the fact that they were chaperoned by his two guards who had averted their eyes when she embraced him and not due to the fact that her impulsive gesture had embarrassed him. Together they entered the great hall where the Targaryen throne caught her eyes immediately. She startled when he spoke up again.

“To answer your earlier question, I think that here at Dragonstone and when I start my campaign openly, I need to be Aegon. Don’t be mad though if I won’t always react to it at first. I still think of myself as Jon. I have learned to respond to ‘my Prince’ though.” He teased.

Daenerys didn’t reply. She didn’t look him in the eyes not wanting to betray too soon that his deep voice made her feel warm inside and she was once more very much in love with him. Just as she had been almost from the first moment they met moons ago in Pentos. She focused on the beautiful sight of the throne she had heard her brother talk about so often when he was still alive. 

 

 

**Interlude20: Ravens**

 

_To my adopted brother Jon,_

_When are you coming to visit Winterfell again? I miss you and want to spar with you. I have improved lots. Robb needs you too. He always sits at his desk looking serious and old. He never has fun like Theon and Ramsay Snow. These two are always together. I do not like either of them. They pester Robb as well as me. I once kicked Ramsay’s shin but lucky for him, Theon pulled the bastard away from me before I could hurt him some more._  
_Come visit soon Jon. I want to see if Ghost is as big as Nymeria. I’m sure they would like each other as much as we do._

_Arya of House Stark_  
_Your most loyal friend and adopted sister_

 

***

 

_To the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell_

_My Lord Hand,_

_On your behest, Yohn Royce sent me to the Twins to put things in order. I was glad to be allowed to support my family since my brother is ailing and my Nephew Edmure is somewhat ‘indecisive’._  
_Lord Walder of House Frey at first objected to pay the overdue taxes to his Lord Paramount. According to him income at the Twins has been more than cut in half since hardly any travellers have crossed the Green Fork at the Twins over the last six moons. He suspects many travellers are making the journey by ship these days._  
_A few words on my end however persuaded him to pay House Tully our due and made him promise faithfully to do so on time of his own accord in future._

_Your faithful servant,_  
_Ser Brynden of House Tully_  
_The Blackfish_

 

***

 

_To Willas of House Tyrell, heir to the Reach_

_Willas,_

_Come home this instant and bring your wayward brother with you! Your father and I are leaving for the capital and we will take Margaery with us. You are needed in Highgarden._  
_It will not do for you to weaken our negotiating position in King’s Landing should you both stay as guests in the North. People might get the impression that House Stark holds sway over House Tyrell and will not trust us to have power in our own right._  
_I expect you home as expedient as travel allows._

_Your grandmother,_  
_The Lady Olenna of House Tyrell_  
_Acting Lord Paramount of the Reach in the absence of her son_

 

***

 

_To the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell_

_My Lord Hand,_

_I heard of the successful conviction of the traitor to the Crown, Petyr Baelish. I trust the evidence I provided was helpful._  
_When can we meet to discuss the next phase of our agreement?_

_I remain at your disposal,_  
_Lord Tyrion of House Lannister,_  
_Warden of the West_

 

***

 

_To Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands_

_My King,_

_Beware of traitors in your midst. Even a dear friend close to you can prove false._

_A loyal subject_

 

***

 

_To Prince Oberyn Nymeros of House Martell, Prince of Dorne, The Red Viper_

_Brother,_  
_I heard of your appointment to the small council. As Head of our House I command you to accept this position. I realise this will be hard for you but I need you to be my eyes and ears in King’s Landing. You might even find some small justice in sabotaging the rule of this cruel unjust King._

_Did you happen to receive word of my son? He still hasn’t returned from his travels._  
_Prince Doran of House Martell_  
_Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear_

 

***

 

_To Jon Celtigar_

_Hope this missive finds you well. Due to certain rumours our assignments have tripled and we have doubled our fee. I might one day ask you to make a short appearance to lend us more credibility. As yet no plea received to take you out._  
_Strickland_

 

***

 

_To Harry Strickland_  
_Captain-General of the Golden Company_

_Find the knight who protected my aunt in Pentos. He can translate this message for you._  
_If you accept my proposal, I’ll let you know the exact timing._  
_Lliw t’noD kcatta deen Ekyp troppus htiw tub snogard dnes dna llams Aray tnegnitnoc Yojyerg fo noos nem.Tel Aray meht Yojyerg ekam lliw emos mialcorp sukcur raf os dna ouy ediw nac taht mialc rouy eht ynapmoc yrotciv depleh reh._  


_Jon_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry to cut Dany & Jon’s reunion short. But Jon had so many things on his plate before he could leave everyone to fly to Dragonstone and meet Dany. I promise, next chapters there will be more Jon & Dany interaction.  
> I hope you had fun decrypting the note to Strickland. If not, I’ll give you the decoded version next week.


	21. Disappointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany’s first day together on Dragonstone does not go according to plan.  
> In the interlude we see Robb struggle somewhat at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistake alert: Everyone who read the previous chapter immediately after it was posted needs to be warned I went back and changed a word in the letter Arya wrote to Jon. She mentioned Ramsay Bolton, but of course she meant Ramsay Snow. He is a bastard after all. I thank the attentive reader who was nice enough to point this error out to me. 
> 
> Chapter 21 once more turned out to be lengthier than I intended. Please enjoy.  
> My thanks once more go out to my wonderful beta Ravenousreadr, who helps and encourages me.

Jon glared at the wooden crate that contained the dragon egg and hesitated. Although he was curious to see whether the egg was meant for Daenerys or not, he was also worried of what it would mean to her if nothing happened when she held it. And how should he react then? Would it lessen her disappointment if he were to bring her outside and introduce her to his dragons or would that just be rubbing salt into an open wound? He wished Davos was here to calm him down with one of his down to earth remarks that would downplay the importance that Jon was attaching to this issue.  
He decided to take it one step at the time. There was no reason yet for negative thoughts. Who knew, over the next few days he could be teaching her to hatch the egg and they would laugh about his current indecisiveness wholeheartedly.

Dany had been pleased to meet Sam again when they met him in the hallway while Jon escorted her to her chambers. With the promise to have lunch together later, Jon had led her away from Sam to her new quarters to refresh herself. The rooms she had been assigned were the ones where her mother, the Queen at the time, had stayed the few times she had visited Dragonstone. The servants had shown the Princess’ rooms to Jon the day before and he had complimented them sincerely. Although the windows were narrow and didn’t allow for much sunlight to enter the space when he had visited them late in the day, the predominant light coloured furs on the bed and the chairs, combined with the tasteful decorations and tapestries that lined the walls lent the room a warm and cosy atmosphere. 

They had all enjoyed a nice lunch together. Everyone had done his share to make the Princess feel welcome. After lunch Sam had been the first one to excuse himself and had left the table. Dany had taken that opportunity to rise as well and had gone back to her room to unpack some of her personal items. Jon had promised to pay her a visit a bit later.

And now he stood here before her door, gathering the courage to knock. Ser Oswell was close behind him and carried the small crate with the black egg. Jon started to think nobody had heard him knock and was about to try again when the door opened and he was greeted with a delighted smile. Daenerys had answered the door herself and stepped aside to let Jon enter with Ser Oswell following his Prince. Daenerys’ septa made a formal curtsy to Jon and left the room.

Jon’s eyes widened when he took in Daenerys’ appearance. She had changed into a less formal gown and seeing the innocent, youthful picture she provided in it made the notion that she was technically his aunt rather ridiculous. Because his eyes were trained on her, he immediately noticed the change in her expression when her eyes wandered to the crate Ser Oswell had just put on a small table with a soft thump. Jon made a furtive hand gesture and Ser Oswell left the room closing the door swiftly behind him.

He approached the table and opened the box with care fixing his gaze on the beautiful black egg. It was a deliberate choice to prevent him from reacting to the nervousness that had appeared in her eyes the moment she recognised the box he had described to her in one of his first letters all those years ago. Even though he kept his eyes on the egg, he still was very much aware of her hesitant approach. He encouraged her with a short nod of his head and focussed on her small hands that carefully took out the shiny black egg. She cradled it in her arms and held it reverently against her bosom. His eyes that had followed the egg now shifted upwards to study the expression on her face with barely contained tension. Dany’s eyes were closed in concentration. 

Jon waited with bated breath and saw a small teardrop appear below one of her closed eyelids. The transparent pearl slowly made its way across her cheek, soon to be followed by a second larger one. He didn’t know whether these were signs of a positive emotion or whether they expressed her extreme disappointment. When she started to tremble, he reached out and carefully took the egg from her shaking arms before she dropped it and put the precious object back inside the box. The very moment he closed the lid, she fell apart in his arms. Immediately grasping the fact that she was heartbroken, he closed his arms around her and softly rocked her slim body that clung to his, desperate for comfort. 

“Shhh, it is all right. If nothing happened that is because it was not destined to be. We have two dragons anyway. Maester Aemon warned me there was a distinct possibility that the egg was not viable. He considered it a miracle two out of three were able to produce healthy dragons after all those years.” He had difficulty finishing his last sentence. A lump had formed in his throat.

“Perhaps the egg is still viable but it is destined for future generations?” Daenerys had stopped sobbing and lifted her head to look at Jon, her purple eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

“Perhaps,” Jon replied, thinking of the vows he had made as head of their house. He would not be able to share the content of them with her now. He would be forced to carry this burden, this responsibility alone, just as his great-great-uncle had been obliged to do for so long. He hid his own regret and disappointment. Reaching into his pocket, he offered her a soft piece of cloth he had brought along just in case his fears would prove true. She accepted it and used it to wipe her tears. She dropped her arms and ended the hug. He saw her walk over to a small mirror to check if she was somewhat presentable again. He didn’t care. Even with red eyes and puffy cheeks wet with tears she looked lovely.

“Would you like to say hello to Rhaegal and Viserion? The outside air will do you good and I promised them they would get to meet you.” Jon attempted to distract her in the only way he could think of. She turned around to face him again, her expression revealing interest and curiosity and he was relieved it had been the right move.

“I always wondered about that.” She said slowly, the reverence apparent in her tone of voice. “Your letters sometimes mention dialogues you have with them in your mind. I have never heard of something like that. The chapter on dragonlore in the book containing the history of House Targaryen mentions nothing of the sort. It only lists a few short commands in High Valyrian the dragonriders of old used. Like _‘soves’_ or _‘dracarys’.”_

“We can hear one another’s thoughts when we share our minds. If I concentrate, I can send images to them and they reply the same way.” He answered feeling a bit self-conscious. “Maester Aemon figured it is the warging ability of my Stark side that is somehow enhanced by the magic of my Targaryen blood that makes this possible. House Stark has the blood of the First Men and the Kings of Winter. The magic in the blood of my mother’s family might possibly be older than the magic of Valyria. Only it has been mostly dormant in recent generations. I suppose I am the first one ever to be born this way. I am sorry that it isn’t the same for you, Dany.”

“Sorry? Aegon, we should celebrate!” she countered, her eyes still looked a little red when they met his. “If you have read the sparse writings on raising dragons you know how difficult it was for our ancestors to control the predatory instincts of their dragons. You have the perfect relationship with them. You can prevent the tragedies that happened back then.”

“I know. I am fortunate. I just feel some injustice that I, who am only half Targaryen, somehow am the chosen one at the expense of you.” He was relieved though with her acceptance of the nature of his relationship with the dragons, sensing she was coming to terms with her disappointment to a certain degree already.

“House Targaryen is fortunate to have you, Aegon. You strengthen our blood and bring new power to our house. Without you those three eggs would be nothing more than beautiful ornaments to grace our quarters. I probably scared you with my tearful reaction but ever since I heard about the eggs in your first letter, expectations have been building. Give me a bit of time to digest this. Focusing on all the positive aspects and seeing our house thrive again will soon have me back to my charming self.” She opened the door of her room and with a watery smile at Ser Oswell she motioned him to follow her. Jon didn’t hesitate and hastened after her. He looked forward to introducing her to the dragons.

 

Together they walked out over the green cliffs of Dragonstone. Jon ignored Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan that followed them at a discreet distance. The view from up here was captivating. Dragonstone was a volcanic island. Thousands of years of waves crushing against the rocks had resulted in irregular slopes and worn away flanks with random carvings rising up from the sea. They admired how the sunlight played with the eroded lines up until the point where the shoreline curved away to the west. The ships that lay anchored in the bay filled him with pride. Out there was his fleet. Sometimes it all still felt unreal. He tore his gaze away from the large fleet that only grew more impressive by the day and turned his head to look at Daenerys when she started to speak. 

“The servants that helped me unpack my belongings told me about the speech you gave yesterday. That must have been something else. I’m sorry I missed it. You’ve been here hardly a day and already everyone worships you like some long lost hero that has finally come home.” She had stopped to better hear his answer. The wind blew from all directions out here on the cliffs.

“That was an overwhelming experience for me as well. I had hardly touched down on Dragonstone, and gotten a chance to freshen up a bit before I was ushered to the great hall where everyone wanted to see me literally take my place on the throne of the Princes of Dragonstone for the very first time. I only half remember what I told them. I don’t think it would have mattered much either way. I gather I could have counted to one hundred and they still would have cheered me on.”

“That is not what I heard, Aegon. You will need to learn not to be so irritatingly modest all the time and to accept compliments with grace if they are sincere. I asked them what they still recalled from your speech and from the fragments they repeated to me, I could gather that it was an eloquent discourse spreading an inspiring message.”

Jon was silent for a few moments not really sure how to respond to her praise. Then he cocked his head and looked up.  
“The dragons are on their way. Better step away for a moment. I will greet them first and then I promise to introduce you.” 

Jon was glad to have this excuse to change the topic. Somehow it still felt like he was steeling her limelight. He knew it was not a rational thought. His mind acknowledged he was worthy, trueborn and first in the line of the succession but the feeling was there anyway. This was her home, she had been born here. He was only the half Targaryen and of a later generation. He didn’t even look the part. She had the classic Valyrian features of silverwhite hair, a very fair, pale skin and exquisite purple eyes. She was also his Aunt. That last thought always filled him with unease. He shrugged his shoulders and loosened his muscles as if to shake these uneasy thoughts off by the physical gesture. Any moment now his dragons would come into view.

“You just felt that? Oh, there they are.” Dany had missed his inner turmoil her eyes had been trained on the sky. She stood back while Rhaegal and Viserion landed close to her kin. She witnessed him rubbing their scales next to extremely large, sharp looking teeth. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, Aegon put his forehead against Rhaegal’s cheeks and closed his eyes. She noticed a small movement and then both dragons were eying her curiously. Moments later Aegon opened his eyes and gestured her to come closer.

He stood right next to her and took her small hand in his to guide it gently along the scales of the silverwhite dragon’s cheek. He saw the pulse in her neck and knew her heart was beating wildly. “Viserion is pleased to meet you.” He translated the dragon’s thoughts to try to get her to calm down a bit. The dragon lifted his head to the left so his eye could study her more closely. That movement caused her hand to slip from his scales and put an end to their joint petting. Jon immediately released her hand. 

“I am pleased to meet him as well.” She responded the awe evident in her voice. “They are magnificent up close, Aegon, even more so than I could ever have imagined, even after seeing them up in the air when I arrived.”

“Come, Rhaegal wants to say hello too.” Jon guided her to the other dragon so they ended up right in the middle of the two enormous beasts. “Their scales are not hurting your skin, are they? Are you impervious to their warmth as well?” He was not really worried. He remembered that she had written to him that she didn’t suffer burns when she touched the flames of a candle. 

“No their warmth feels nice enough.” 

He was happy that she was confident enough now to pet Rhaegal without him guiding her hand.  
“If that is the case, then you could join me on Rhaegal. No one else can. They all get severe burns. The scales on his back run even hotter.” Jon warned.

“I would love that. Do you think Viserion would let me ride him?” She ventured.

“I don’t see how that would work. I would have to stay near you to guide him. Viserion follows me and either copies his brother’s moves or listens to my thoughts. When we fly we kind of open our minds to each other so we all know what the two other think and feel.”

He turned to look at her and took both hands in his to soften the message. “They are not like horses, Dany. They are not just a means of transportation nor are they pets. They are my partners and in the air we are equals. I have executed plans they’ve come up with just as well as they have executed mine. We share a bond as close as … I was going to say siblings but it is even more intense, more intimate than that.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking about what Jon had told her. Eventually she tried once more.“But Viserion,”

“Not even I ride Viserion.” He paused searching frantically for the right words to make her understand what nobody had been able to grasp yet. “My bond with Rhaegal goes much deeper than what I share with Viserion. Rhaegal and I, we not only read each other’s minds, we can share them completely. We kind of merge our minds. I never command him, neither of them. Everything we do is consensual and we feel it the very moment one of us has an issue, is overextending himself or is hurt. We look out for each other. I am sorry. It is difficult to put into words. It is everything that I just described but also much, much more. When I ride Rhaegal there is no him or me, there is just us, almost as if we have one mind, one thought.”  
He absently stroked Rhaegal. The dragon nudged him slightly, making him bump unceremoniously into Daenerys. He embraced her to prevent her from falling against Viserion. 

“Umpf! Are they always that playful?” She remarked. They were entrapped between the two dragons that each formed one half of the circle that kept them confined.

“It has happened once or twice.” He could sense her regret as he released her. Jon shared a long look with the green dragon and the circle opened. The dragons took a few steps and leapt over the cliff to soar through the sky.  
“Come let us seat ourselves on that ledge over there. I want to talk to you for a bit.”

“Isn’t that a somewhat dangerous?” She asked eying the steep cliff with apprehension.

“Isn’t talking to women always dangerous?” he teased, wilfully misunderstanding her. His dark eyes were looking at her, but his expression was more guarded than before.  
“I won’t let you fall. Trust me. We will have a beautiful view from up there and we can watch the dragons dance around each other in the air. At the same time you can admire our royal fleet. Come on.” He encouraged her to take his hand and guided her to the spot he had indicated. Ser Oswell had disappeared and Ser Barristan sat on a rock where he could keep them in his sight and at the same time be far enough away from the couple to give them some semblance of privacy. 

Once seated with their legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, she looked sideways at him. “You wanted to talk to me? What about?”

Jon hesitated and searched for the right words, glad that Daenerys waited patiently until he began to speak.  
“When I read what had happened with Prince Quentyn and Khal Drogo I realised you had not been treated fairly. For a man seventeen namedays is young to be married. For a noble woman however, it is not. Many ladies your age have already birthed more than one child. I only hope you do not hold it against me that I didn’t think of that before.” He kept his tone neutral.

“I don’t hold it against you, Aegon. I have not lived the life of an average noble lady. My goal has never been to marry young and have children immediately. My goal has always been to return to Westeros, to my home. All other wishes I had were secondary to that. That is until I met you and it looked like my dreams would all come true.” 

An awkward pause ensued. Jon grew uncomfortable. He avoided her gaze he still felt upon him and made a point of staring at the playful antics of his dragons up in the sky before him.

“It is not as if I am an old spinster who will never have a chance to marry. I have turned down many offers in Pentos.” She offered unable to take the silence that lingered over them any longer.

When the meaning of her words sank in, he finally turned his head her way and met her gaze.  
“You did?” When Daenerys faked an insulted look he stammered. “Not uh, not that I do not believe that. A man would have to be blind to pass you over. It is just, uh, I only heard of the two suitors I named just now. What have you been hiding from me?” His voice had a bit of an edge when he asked that question.

“Well I didn’t think you would have been impressed by most of my suitors. Or are you interested in a long list of Essosi merchants and a shorter one of impoverished, exiled nobles from Westeros who asked for a betrothal? There was the offer from House Tyrell almost two moons ago though.” She ended quietly.

“House Tyrell?” He held her eyes prisoner with a compelling look. “I distinctly recall reading your very tardy last letter that mentioned nothing, absolutely nothing. I never received a more disappointing missive than that one. You could as well have signed your name under an empty scroll. And now you tell me about a potential political disaster in the making by ignoring the request of a ruling house?” He made sure Daenerys couldn’t miss the disappointment and bitterness in his voice. 

“I am sorry. I was afraid you would react like this.” Daenerys looked up at him, frowning at the expression of dismay on his face.

Although he felt slightly guilty seeing her pull back a little bit he didn’t give an inch.  
“React like what exactly? I haven’t reacted yet since I haven’t heard their exact proposal yet. Why didn’t you tell me about this, Dany?” The accusation in his tone made her lower her head a bit.

“Because I was frightened you would jump at the opportunity to get rid of me, all right.” She bit back. “Scared to death that you would use me as just another cyvasse piece you offered up to your opponent to gain you the alliance of a Kingdom to further your cause in one stroke of a quill. I truly feared that I was just another burden, another responsibility for you.” She abruptly turned her head away from him.

He guessed that she had done that so he wouldn’t notice the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes for a second time that day. He decided not to let her know that he had already caught a glimpse of the small teardrop dangling from her left eye and changed tactics. He spoke in a more gentle tone.  
“Didn’t we have this conversation already? You will never be a burden to me, Dany. You are my only Targaryen kin now that uncle Aemon is no longer with us. I am only concerned that by not offering them a reply, by not even making the effort of sending them a kindly formulated refusal or even an alternative to their offer, we will have endangered the possible alliance we have so painstakingly been building with the Reach for such a long time now. I have written to you of all our manoeuvring with Loras Tyrell, the betrothal proposals from Lord Stark, the hints Varys and Nymeria Sand have been giving them. Robb is entertaining the Tyrell heir and his brother as we speak. Not to mention the seventeen years that my Stark family has been trying to gain their favour in every way possible.”

“I do not think the delay will endanger all these efforts that are so important to you, Aegon,” she replied slightly offended that he thought her stupid enough to endanger his tentative relations with the Reach. “Lady Olenna explained in her letter how she learned from Prince Quentyn’s failure and has given me an open offer stating and I quote _‘that the ball is in my court’._ Besides she only wants to align herself with me because she thinks the dragon that has been rumoured to fly over the Narrow Sea is mine. I couldn’t in good faith entertain her proposal without telling her about you.” 

He saw her regain somewhat of her confidence when her purple eyes found the courage to look straight at him again.  
“I fully accept that you are the head of our house and I would not have replied to her without your consent. I just wasn’t happy to discuss this with you in writing and figured it wouldn’t be long before we saw each other anyway.” She defended her actions her voice firm once more.

Jon considered her reasoning for a time. When he was sure he was calm enough and had found the right words he spoke gently. “Dany, will you let me read that letter? I promise you I will not decide your fate before talking it over with you first. I will never give you to a man you have an extreme aversion to. I want you to be happy. But we must both be realistic. There is a big chance that one or both of us will have to marry to ensure the peaceful annexation of a kingdom. I cannot ask my Stark cousins to adhere to my wishes in that regard if we are not prepared to do the same. Political marriages can turn out to be very happy ones if both partners are entering the relationship with an open mind.” 

He sighed when he saw she once more avoided his gaze and made an attempt to lessen the impact of his unwelcome message.  
“There are many options to bring the Reach into the fold. Robb would not be averse to getting to know Margaery Tyrell. She is an acclaimed beauty. Willas Tyrell is an option Lord Stark is considering for Sansa if for some reason Robb can’t marry Margaery. We just need to send some sort of reply to Lady Olenna. I wished Davos were here. He might have some platitude up his sleeve that would make both of us feel better.”

“What are the betrothals you are considering for yourself then, Aegon?” She was wondering how far along his political plans actually were.

“None yet. I have the advantage that no one outside of our own circle really knows about my existence and future position. It is best it stays that way a bit longer. Lady Olenna will not be satisfied with catching Robb Stark if she hears about me. I happen to know that Lady Catelyn, I mean Aunt Catelyn at one time considered me almost an acceptable suitor for her most excellent daughter Sansa, even before Prince Joffrey’s disgrace.”  
This time his teasing tone felt flat. Her question had reawakened the familiar guilt each time he considered a betrothal for one of his Stark cousins and left all options open for himself. He should have anticipated her next question, but he hadn’t considered she would dare to be so direct. As a consequence he was taken by surprise.

“Hasn’t it crossed your mind that we could marry? It would be a good solution to avoid the demands of the Lady Olenna’s of the realm. Or perhaps you want to keep the prized lady Margaery for yourself?” She looked straight at him not hiding her disappointment, challenging him to reveal what he really felt.

“Dany, I” He was taken aback by the fierceness she portrayed in her entire demeanour.

“No don’t answer that. I think you know my wishes. You would be blind and deaf not to.” She put her hand on his mouth to prevent him from speaking. “Please, you have said your piece. It is my turn now. You can at least do me the courtesy of hearing me out.”  
She released his mouth when he nodded.

“I will perform my duty to my house. I will always be loyal to you and support you in any way I can. Even if you do not consider yourself a sovereign yet, to me you already are my King. I only hope that you will choose with some consideration for my wellbeing when you order me to marry someone. But please know I would be content to simply live here and become an adviser to you. I do not need a husband and children as such. Perhaps you could allow me the opportunity to prove myself? I have been told I am a fast learner. I am confident that given time I will be knowledgeable enough to fill an official position on your council. I already read all I could find about the houses of Westeros, of their alliances, strengths and weaknesses. Being new to politics could bring a fresh perspective, new ideas to your council. Or are you one of these men that believe a woman is only capable of producing the next generation?” These last words came out a lot bitterer than she had originally intended.

Jon forgot his resolution to stay calm and rational at all cost. His nerves had been tested by everything that had happened these last few days and he exploded. “That is a low blow! You know I don’t think like that, Dany. I have written you repeatedly about all the reforms I want to instigate once I have the power to do so. I, contrary to you, did put real information in my letters. I revealed my dreams and ideas, my thoughts and struggles. You should know me better than that by now!” Jon stood up. He needed to get some distance from her so he could control his rising temper. It would not do to have a serious quarrel on her first day here.

Dany however had risen as well and taken a few steps away from the ledge. Since she was significantly smaller than him, she needed to look up to him. She didn’t back down though her voice as loud as his when she countered. “And you think you are fair? I wrote frequently but at some point I had said all I could about me and I did not lead such an eventful life, thank you very much. What should I have written? _‘Hi Aegon, I went to the market and bought some peaches, again, just like the previous sennight, only there was more choice and the ones I picked this time turned out to be juicier.’_  
That is what was happening in my life. While you were fighting Ironborn and were looking for magical ice monsters, I strolled around the market once a sennight and the rest of my days I sat by the window until I had to eat or go to sleep. The only excitement I had in my life over there was when someone visited and asked to marry me.”

“And when that happened you concealed it from me.” He refuted sharply but not a loud as before. “Let us stop this discussion right here. I do not want to fight with you on our first day together in our ancestral home.

“Well then you failed miserably, my Prince, because we just did.” She turned around and started to walk with big steps toward the castle. 

“Dany!” He called after her. “Dany don’t leave yet. Let’s at least broker a truce before you run off.”

“Too late, another failure, my Prince!” She shouted over the wind looking over her shoulders to see him rooted to the exact spot where she had left him. Not watching were she was going she bumped into something she could have sworn wasn’t there before and was catapulted back. Nothing hurt but her pride as she sat up. Still in a daze she stared uncomprehendingly at a green blurry mass in front of her.

“Rhaegal, what were you thinking?” Jon appeared next to her and admonished his dragon. He had not believed his eyes when Dany, not looking where she was going, had run straight into Rhaegal’s flank. It was rather obvious that the dragon had wanted to help his rider by forcing his wayward female kin to obey him.  
“Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” He scanned her small figure that just sat there staring at Rhaegal’s large belly.

“Only my pride.” She ventured sheepishly when she finally got her bearings.

“I’m sorry.” They both said simultaneously. The dragon puffed. Jon put his forehead against Rhaegal again and stayed there a long time. He realised Dany would be wondering what they were telling each other but he needed to have this lengthy conversation with Rhaegal to avoid him from intervening in a similar fashion ever again. It took some time before the green dragon joined his brother in the sky and Jon sat down next to her.

“We are making a mess of things, aren’t we?” He tried to get her to look at him but she didn’t move a muscle. He released a deep breath and made another effort. “Give me time to think on all we spoke about this afternoon. I am sure somehow we will come up with a workable compromise. We will find a way to make things work. We both like each other. That is more than some family members do. Let’s take two steps back and start over. Okay?”

Dany hesitated but eventually nodded. She kept her eyes on the dragons up in the sky the entire time. They lapsed into silence again. After what seemed like ages to Jon, Dany finally turned her head his way and looked cautiously at him.  
“I will go inside now. I shall fetch that letter from Lady Tyrell and put it on the desk in your quarters. Then I will take an early supper and retire. I am somewhat tired. I only arrived this morning and then the rollercoaster with the eggs had me off balance. I may not have been as diplomatic as I should.”

Jon looked worried at first then guilty and was about to apologize once more when she reassured him.  
“I will be fine Aegon. You are right. We each have a lot to think about. What do you say about meeting each other again tomorrow after lunch on these cliffs if the weather permits it?” 

“Thank you, Dany.” He tentatively brushed the curve of her cheek with his thumb for a short moment before pulling back.  
“Perhaps, we can also use the opportunity to take a short flight, together on Rhaegal’s back?” He looked hesitant now. He would give everything to be able to turn back time and have the afternoon start over again or to somehow erase her memories of their quarrel. Where had it started to go wrong? Had he caused their fight or had she? He would analyse their argument later. For now his worried eyes were waiting for a response to his suggestion.

“Tomorrow afternoon then.” She confirmed. “Let us hope Rhaegal will still like me enough to allow me on his back.” 

Jon was relieved beyond measure to hear her slightly teasing tone.  
“Don’t worry. It was me he was scolding just then.” Jon confessed and turned red. He cursed his inability to control the colour of his own cheeks and feared he had ruined the initial impression he knew he had made on her back on the beach the first moments she arrived on Dragonstone that morning. She would no longer think of him as a strong leader but see him for the green young boy he sometimes still was. 

He wished he had more knowledge on how to deal with women. He had mostly grown up between men. His foster grandmother only raised him for a few years and even then he had spent most of his waking hours with the three knights. He promised himself he would stop by for another short visit at the Driftmark before he was needed again at the Wall.

“I will see you tomorrow then, Aegon.” She interrupted his musing and he watched her turn and walk away from him. This time she was able to reach the castle without bumping into wilful dragons.  
Ser Barristan hesitated but then decided to follow the Princess.

 

***

 

Princess Daenerys was halfway up the stair leading to the entrance of the castle when she stopped to look at Aegon still standing at the exact same spot. She guessed he had his eyes closed and shrugged her shoulders. He was probably having a long conversation with his dragons. Daenerys perhaps wasn’t able to talk with them like he could but she understood some of their body language just fine. The green dragon had hardly met her and already he was playing matchmaker. The dragon could maybe fool his rider but not her. 

 

***

 

Jon stayed out on the cliff a while longer. He established a bond with his dragons to clear his mind. It didn’t work right away. He clearly felt their disapproval. In their eyes it was simple, male and female mate and make little dragonriders. How did you start explaining to a dragon the concept of incest and the risk of madness through inbreeding? How did you explain the necessity for political marriages? How did he explain that he needed to concentrate on the war against the dead and the claiming of his rightful throne first? He had tried but they had rejected each image he put into their minds. He couldn’t shrug off their unwavering belief that it was simple and that their human was needlessly complicating a simple matter. He caught himself hoping they were the ones who had it right.

He severed the connection disappointed that he didn’t achieve the relaxed state of mind his dragons normally could give him. He needed Davos to help him make sense of it all. Davos could surely prevent him from making an even greater mess of things than he already had. Or perhaps Uncle Benjen would be the one the make him feel better. His uncle had a way of simplifying matters, sifting through the bullshit and attacking the problem at its very core. But he just had his three Kingsguards here and Ser Barristan was probably on Daenerys’ side. The only thing he could come up with right now was to switch off his feelings and approach this problem with a rational mind.

He saw Ser Gerold approach. Ser Barristan had probably asked him to look after his Prince. But then he recalled that he had asked his Kingsguards for a strategy meeting later this afternoon. Yesterday they had only talked about the situation at the Wall. They still needed to exchange the latest news they had gathered about the other territories. Perhaps ravens with more news had arrived today as well. He also hadn’t found the right time to talk to Sam yet. Yesterday evening he had almost fallen asleep over his plate and had retired earlier than initially planned. So much to do, so much effort put in already and it felt as if he was making hardly any progress. 

 

Ser Gerold greeted him with a nod and together they walked back to the castle in silence. When he entered the meeting room, Maester Pylos who served at Dragonstone was there to hand over the newly arrived messages addressed to the Prince of Dragonstone. Jon was still a bit wary of the man although he had served Stannis Baratheon only for a few moons. His predecessor, Maester Cressen that had been with Stannis Baratheon for years had broken his hip, fallen ill and had died a few moons before Stannis left for Storm’s End. The young assistant-Maester Pylos who had helped Maester Cressen during his illness was named the official Maester on Dragonstone by the Citadel upon receiving Prince Stannis’ request for a new Maester. Although the learned man reminded Jon that a Maester always served a keep not the house that currently resided there, Jon was not yet ready to share their secret strategies with the unfamiliar Maester. There was too much at stake.  
Therefore he thanked the man when he accepted the scrolls and politely dismissed him.

Sam entered the room the same time the Maester left it. Jon smiled at the symbolism. “Thank you for joining us Sam, will you ask Ser Oswell who is probably guarding the door to fetch Ser Barristan and then have them both join the meeting?”

Moments later the five of them were installed around the large table that had a map of Westeros carved on it. When his ancestors did something, they certainly didn’t hold back. He had admired the carvings in detail with Daenerys earlier and aside from a few small errors in scale he could not find much to criticise.

They each had taken a scroll and read the contents to speed up matters. Jon was reading the message Ser Barristan had handed him with a knowing look in his eyes. Lady Olenna had indeed given the Targaryen Princess the initiative to do with the missive whatever she saw fit. He swallowed and put the scroll to the side. When he looked around he saw that everyone was looking at him to open proceedings. He scraped his throat.  
“Let’s go by geographical order. That should be easy with this amazing map before us. We already discussed the Wall. The North is not an issue, the Riverlands then.” 

“You already told us how Prince Oberyn solved that issue. Is there other news from that front?” Ser Gerold asked.

“Actually I just read a missive from Varys. King Robert proposes to withdraw the right of House Frey to charge a fee for travellers passing through the Twins. With the help of your uncle Ned he has been able to stall him for now.” Sam was quick to interrupt.

“That shows once more that the King is attempting to govern his realm and is not bad at it when he makes the effort. This is not a good development, Aegon.” Ser Gerold shook his head.

“We discussed this yesterday, Ser Gerold. Sam and I will write a diplomatic letter to my uncle through Varys. We must trust Varys and Uncle Ned to handle things in the capital for now. So we can conclude that the situation in the Riverlands is peaceful for now and the Tullys are on our side. What about the Ironborn? Did you receive anything more recent? The last intelligence I received was a report from Yara Greyjoy that her uncle was meeting some resistance from pirates while attacking the Stepstones. I am glad our warning to the Reach was taken seriously and the region was smart enough to make all their defenses and reinforcements very visible. Euron Greyjoy has proven himself a coward when he sailed right past in search for weaker targets.”

“The scroll I just read is from Yara Greyjoy.” Ser Oswell entered the conversation for the first time. “She writes her uncle has suffered some losses and is contemplating moving up the coast. There are rumours a red priestess has asked him to parlay with Stannis Baratheon but knowing his contempt for other religions, his niece is betting that he will sail the other way, perhaps towards the Arbor? However, this information is not the main reason she sent you this message today. She asks for your assistance when she attacks Pyke.”

"When she attacks, not if?” Jon asked taken aback by the brazenness of the woman.

“Yara Greyjoy claims a lot of the Ironborn are dismayed by Euron Greyjoy’s practices. More in particular they abhor how he is quick to have his subjects’ tongues cut out to turn them into mutes at the first word of criticism or at what he perceives as disrespect. Many have joined her ranks. She boasts entire crews with ships have shifted their alliance. Her fleet has grown substantially. And even though she has acquired additional ships by other means, she has more men than her vessels can carry and asks if you can loan her a few. She also requests the help of your dragons when she attacks. She estimates that with help from the sky, Pyke will surrender in less than half a day. You could fly in and out of there on the same day. She is willing to adapt the timing of her attack to your availability.”

“How nice of her.” Ser Gerold sneered.

“Jon, such action will be certain to garner King Robert’s attention.” Sam cautioned. “Sure enough it would weaken Euron Greyjoy even more and the Iron Islands would be your ally but is it worth the risk?”

Jon showed no hesitance when he replied in a determined fashion. “Write back to her and tell her that she has proven a faithful ally these last few moons. Add that I am willing to offer her five ships right away. Send word to Seagard that Yara Greyjoy may take possession of five crewless vessels for now. They have trouble finding enough crew to man the new ships there anyway. Make sure these are not our newest ships though.  
Tell her I am in the middle of planning my campaign but that I am certainly willing to support her attack on Pyke if she puts in writing all the promises she has made regarding the more civilised rules that the Ironborn under her command will adhere to. She will also add to this document that she swears not to attack any shores on the entire continent of Westeros as long as she is the ruler of Pyke. In turn, upon receipt of this complete, unequivocal and officially signed document, I promise to help her attack Pyke and send timing proposals for a joint attack.”

Ser Gerold nodded. “A wise tactic, my Prince. You save valuable time and once she has control of Pyke, Euron Greyjoy will have difficulty upholding his authority. The Ironborn will all flock to her like sheep.”

“We will need to advise Lord Manderly of this decision as admiral of the royal fleet.” Jon added as an afterthought. “Sam, will you remind me of that later?”

“I second Sam’s worry about a hostile reaction from King’s Landing.” Ser Barristan fixed Jon with apprehension. 

Jon met his stare realising full well the man still felt uneasy to address his Prince after witnessing his altercation with Princess Daenerys. He managed a weak smile before turning his head towards his friend again. “Sam, inform Yara Greyjoy that we need to keep the rumours of a dragonrider under wraps and will spread the story that she enlisted the help of the Golden Company and their dragon to defeat the usurper who murdered her father and took Pyke away from Balon Greyjoy’s heirs. We will want the assistance of every Ironborn on her side to collaborate our story. Another condition we place on helping her.” Jon turned to Ser Barristan. “We will also send a message to warn Varys and ask his assistance to discredit all unwanted rumours before King Robert can get wind of them.

Sam nodded not lifting his eyes that were trained on his writings. He was scribbling down as much as he could of what was said.

“Then I think it is time you tell us what happened at the Vale. Your message was quite succinct. _‘Stalemate resolved, Vale neutral or on our side’._ I think all three of us would like to hear a bit more about that.” Ser Gerold moved on to the next Kingdom on the map.

Jon proceeded to tell them how it had simply been a matter of separating young Lord Robin Arryn from his mother and how everything fell into place after that. He also explained to them that encouraged by Howland Reed’s detailed visions, he had revealed his origins to Yohn Royce who in response had promised him at least neutrality. The man was in King’s Landing now and had hinted that a talk with Eddard Stark whom he trusted unconditionally might persuade him to declare for the side that Eddard Stark chose in the coming conflict.

“Does anyone have any doubts that this will not go our way?” Ser Oswell looked gleeful. “You and your dragons are a force to be reckoned with, my Prince. Little Robin Arryn is on your side and Lord Stark need only say two sentences and you can count on the might of the knights of the Vale to have your back. 

“Eddard Stark had better not mess this up. Gods know how much trouble he has caused us with his all too honourable influence on Robert Baratheon.” Ser Gerold couldn’t resist voice his frustration once more.

“We already agreed to table that subject and let Varys and Uncle Ned handle it, Ser Gerold.” Jon patiently reminded his Lord Commander again.

“What news from the Stormlands?” Ser Oswell tried to steer the discussion away from the source of discontent. 

“Howland Reed informed me personally that he has retained the services of two new allies, Ser Beric of House Dondarrion and the red Priest Thoros of Myr. Lord Reed is concerned about the information they volunteered. Strange things are happening in the Stormlands. Allegedly Prince Stannis Baratheon has become a religious fanatic who burns people alive in the name of the Lord of Light. What is troublesome is that some sort of magic from a red priestess blocks Reed from having visions about the things happening in that region. All we have to go on is the information these two men brought personally to Greywater Watch. Lord Reed hopes to hear from them soon. The situation worries him greatly.” Jon sighed. Talking about the red priestess brought back the uneasy reminder of the Lord of Light and prophesies about a Prince Who Was Promised.

“According to Varys, the King has gotten wind of this and has asked Lord Stark to send a royal emissary to Storm’s End to investigate matters.” Sam told them pointing to the scroll he had read.

“Perhaps things will settle down in the Stormlands now Stannis is officially proclaimed Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and recognised as next in the succession for the Iron Throne?” Ser Oswell suggested.

“We will not know for sure until Varys’ birds, uncle Ned or Lord Dondarrion and his priest send us more information. Let’s move on shall we? Dorne is next.” Jon moved the meeting needing a distraction to keep his mind from dwelling on troublesome prophesies.

“I talked to Prince Oberyn when he arrived at Castle Black. He is frustrated as hell with his brother. The man still finds excuses for his son’s abysmal behaviour. He doesn’t think it will be easy to bring Prince Doran around to our side. He has been playing with the notion of deposing his brother but only as a last resort. He has talked to Ser Arthur about the possibility of getting the more important bannermen of Dorne to support us if need be. His brother would lose a bit of face but not his position as ruler of the Kingdom. Prince Oberyn doesn’t want to be encumbered by the burden of ruling a Kingdom. He prefers his freedom. He is a born adventurer.” Jon almost verbally repeated the Prince’s words.

“A resourceful adventurer, I am glad he is on our side.” Ser Barristan remarked. 

“Did I already mention how he gloated about ridding Winterfell from Roose Bolton?” Jon looked amused now.

“You did not. How in Seven Hells did he accomplish that?” Ser Oswell voiced what they all wondered.

“He told him the Ironborn were disappointed by their failed attack on the Stony Shores and were blaming House Bolton for not doing its share to weaken the position of House Stark and destabilizing the region. Having heard from Robb Stark that Domeric Bolton was in hiding, Prince Oberyn made Roose Bolton believe that the Ironborn held his precious heir a prisoner and threatened to skin him alive in true Bolton fashion if the Lord did not show his arse in person soon to negotiate a truce. Allegedly negotiations between the Ironborn and his half-brother are stuck and they are losing patience. Oberyn hinted that it would be child play for the Ironborn to apprehend Ramsay Snow when he went on one of his disreputable outings and that having his two sons in enemy hands would make Roose Bolton’s negotiating position even weaker.”

“Roose Bolton didn’t wonder how Prince Oberyn could possibly know any of this?” Ser Gerold asked his eyes big as saucers.

“I have no further details, only that Roose Bolton and his small retinue were gone at first light the next morning. The Prince gleefully told me Robb’s attitude towards him warmed up considerably after that.” Jon finished his tale.

“Well, let us leave the matter of Dorne in the scheming hands of the Red Viper. He has proven he is more than willing to help us, or perhaps help Prince Aegon would be a better way of phrasing it. If I didn’t know of his relationship with his paramour, I would think he had a crush on you, my Prince.” Ser Gerold apparently had chosen to believe in their good luck and was eager to move the meeting along.

“That reminds me.” Jon looked deep in thought. “I promised the Prince to send word to Dorne to ask Ellaria Sand to be in King’s Landing by the time he is expected to arrive there by ship.”

“That is not an urgent message. We can send it out one of the next few days and she will still have plenty of time to organise her travels, it will take the Prince somewhere between thirty or forty days to sail from Eastwatch all the way to King’s Landing. Davos could be more precise.” Sam remarked.

Jon sighed. “It will take Davos as long to reach Dragonstone. I really miss his advice. No offence.” He added quickly looking at all four who were present and doing their utmost to help him.

“No offence taken, we understand, my Prince. Davos Seaworth has a unique way of putting things in perspective.” Ser Oswell reassured Jon. “I miss his wise advice as well.”

“That leaves the Reach?” Sam was the one now to get the meeting back on track.

“Yes, they are still on the fence. We will need a strategy to keep Lady Olenna’s ambitions in check. She will reject Robb in favour of King Robert or perhaps in favour of me.” Jon added self-consciously.

“With Loras and Willas in the North, she will have to play nice to Lord Stark. Can’t we use that as leverage? I think the way to go is to use the little birds of Varys and keep spreading rumours. Perhaps a rumour of how King Robert is no longer capable of siring children due to a hunting accident. Or that he has caught a sexual disease? Create just enough suspicion do to make Lady Olenna uncertain and stall a bit. In the meantime Lord Stark and other allies can once more sing the praises of the young handsome, virile, capable and most honourable heir to the Northern Kingdom, Lord Robb of House Stark. If Lady Margaery visits the capital with her grandmother who I am told is already on her way there, Lord Stark can get to know Lady Margaery and find out whether she would suit his son?”

Perhaps we can approach her most important bannerman and military commander, Lord Tarly to sound out the allegiances of her more important bannermen?” Ser Oswell proposed.

“Do not mention me if you do that. It might ruin all chances to get him on your side.” Sam’s bitter retort startled the men. “I’m almost sure my father won’t help you unless you are willing to give him something substantial in return. I believe only the offer of the position of Lord Paramount of the Reach would be enough of an inducement for that heartless, calculating man to help you.

“Don’t worry Sam, this plan is still a hypothetical one, we are just discussing all options.” Jon reassured his friend.

“Ah, brainstorming!” Sam’s voice showed relief. “That means I have still a chance to change your minds.”

“We are racking our brains for sure. Not certain if there is a storm though.” Jon smiled.

“Perhaps we should leave it at that and discuss the one area that is left, the Rock?” Ser Barristan offered.

“Lord Tyrion should have arrived by now. He had to travel very far overland. I do not foresee trouble on that front. We have him cornered. He owes us much already and we are the only ones who are still willing to offer him more. King Robert will think twice before granting the Lannisters a position of power ever again. We can offer him that plus a normal future for his niece and nephew.” Jon pointed out.

“If we are all in agreement, can we agree that we are finished for now? I must admit I am starting to have trouble focusing. We are juggling on so many things at once.” Ser Barristan sighed pressing a hand to his forehead. 

“Well there is this little trick I learned from…” Jon started but his slight teasing tone betrayed him.

“Do not start about that ridiculous notion about dividing your brain in tiny boxes.” Ser Oswell stopped him with a fake exasperated look.

“All right, I won’t,” Jon laughed at the familiar banter. It was not the first time he used it to relax everyone.

“I think the cook will be waiting on supper. Have we covered everything?” Sam tried to close the meeting officially.

“Most of it, there are still the domestic matters though. I wanted a status report on the new staff, your take on the quality and trustworthiness of the Maester, the houseguards, how you plan to arrange the protection of Princess Daenerys, how the village is handling the increasing demands for food and shelter, what to do about Ser Jorah Mormont..” Jon didn’t get to finish his list.

“Stop right there and let us agree to resume this meeting tomorrow afternoon.” Ser Gerold knew he needed to gather some information on some of these issues before he had a relevant reply for his Prince.

“Why not take the entire day tomorrow to prepare for this meeting and visit the village. I happen to have other plans for the afternoon. You see, I plan to take Daenerys flying.” Jon inadvertently gave his Lord Commander the necessary respite. He got a bit embarrassed when he saw the knights exchange significant looks. He looked over to his friend in an effort to ignore them.  
“Sam, do you have time after supper for me? We can draft some of these messages together and I am still waiting for an opportunity to catch up with my friend.”

“Of course, Jon. Perhaps we could take supper in your quarters. There are several urgent scrolls to send out and formulating them right will take time.

 

“My Prince, if I may ask,” Ser Barristan remarked formally. “I wondered if you forgot to mention something yesterday when you told us of everyone’s movements. Did I hear correctly that you did not mention your Uncle Benjen Stark?”

“That’s correct. I indeed did not mention that he will travel back to Winterfell soon to deal with family matters. It doesn’t have an impact on our cause so I didn’t think it important. My uncle will join our cause once more when the matters he needs to attend to have been handled.” He nodded at Ser Barristan and moved to the door sending the clear signal he would not elaborate further.

“Time to find something to eat. Sam, are you coming?” Jon asked when he had reached the doorway.

“Right behind you.” Sam said and quickly gathering the scrolls from the table to join Jon who waited for him to leave the room together.

 

***

 

Sam had been right. Drafting the messages had taken up a lot of time. They would have taken even longer if Sam had not already made concise drafts of some of them during the meeting. When they finally finished the most important ones it was already dark outside. Jon lit a few more candles. “Come Sam let’s leave it at that for now. Come sit with me by the fire. The chairs there are much cosier.”

Sam was glad to leave the hard wooden chair. His hand had started to cramp as well. He must have broken a record today. Ever since Jon had arrived it felt like he had not stopped scribbling one thing or another. He stretched the fingers of his right hand one by one and slowly got up from the table. “Shall I bring the pitcher of wine and some glasses?”

“That is an excellent idea Sam, please do.” Jon waited patiently until Sam had filled their two glasses and installed himself in the soft chair. “How have you been, Sam, truthfully?”

“I’ve been all right. Perhaps a bit lonely but I had the books to comfort me, if that is what you’re asking, Aegon?”

“I can’t get used to being called, Aegon, especially by you. To you I have always been Jon. I feel like Jon. Doesn’t if feel strange to you to use my Targaryen name?”

“Not really. See I address you, the person sitting in front of me, my friend, one that I really like, admire and respect. Whether you are called Jon, Aegon, Aero, Zuzor or any other name you can come up with, I am still talking to this nice guy with dark curly hair. I think the problem is that you see Jon and Aegon as two different people. They are not Jon. They are one and the same.”

“How did you become so smart, Sam? Now that you explain it that way I think I understand the problem. I think of myself as Jon, a guy who has been fortunate to have a lot of friends and support. I admit he is not a normal guy since he has a direwolf and rides a dragon. People seem to listen to him and respect him most of the time. Jon is also a guy who has a cause he believes in. But he is not Aegon. In my mind Aegon is this mystical King everyone kneels before and is larger than life. Aegon is the one who has to live up to the expectations of his ancestors and is under a lot of pressure.” Jon looked at Sam to check if his friend understood what he meant.

“Still I maintain, there is only one person that is sitting before me. This one person is indeed the one who has a lot of friends, dragons, and a direwolf but he also has a big destiny to live up to because of who his ancestors were.” Sam looked at Jon willing him to believe what he was about to say.  
“In my opinion, as much as you think you have embraced your heritage, you still haven’t done so completely. And all the aspects of your parentage that you are okay with, you connect to fortunate Jon and all the things you are afraid you will not be able to accomplish you attach to poor King Aegon Sixth of his Name.” Sam paused a moment because he had forgotten to breathe being focussed too much on convincing his friend. After taken a few deep breaths he was ready to give his advice.

“Forget the name bit and think about your goal. As far as I can see, you were magnificent as Aegon, the Prince of Dragonstone the moment you set foot on this island and I assure you, not a single soul thinks you come up short. I have written down that speech you gave, so thousands of years from now, people will still be able to read about that brilliant young man of only seventeen namedays that was cornered into giving a speech without being prepared for it and came up with the right thing to say on the spur of the moment. I will add the entire context when I write the book. “

Seeing Jon’s raised eyebrow he continued his attempt to boost Jon’s confidence up to a kingly level.  
“Then I see before me this intelligent young man that just led a meeting as complicated as meetings will ever get in the Seven Kingdoms. A youth that kept his cool, came up with creative ideas and holds his own in a group of men with twice, almost three times as many namedays as him. You said you missed Davos Seaworth, but I think even he couldn’t have handled that meeting any better than you did. Just think back to the resolve with which you handled Yara Greyjoy’s demand and the sheer tactics of your solution. Davos would be proud of you. Hells, we are all proud of you.”

“Stop it Sam. I am not that perfect guy you make me out to be. I make mistakes, just as everyone else. The trouble is that my mistakes might have bigger consequences. I have messed up at Castle Black. I have messed up with Princess Daenerys. How can I ever become this perfect King Aegon?” Jon sighed in exasperation and raked his hand over his face.

“No King is perfect, Aegon. You do your best and learn from your mistakes. You ask for help when you need it. No King has ever ruled alone. No King has ever ruled without making errors in judgement either. If you do not believe me, you should read the book again about your much praised ancestor King Jaehaerys I. Although he was a wise King he made a few lapses in judgement as well. Nobody is perfect, Aegon.” Sam tried his best to reason with his friend.

“I certainly must be learning a lot then judging by the number of mistakes I make. And even though the incident at Castle Black in the end will prove to be a minor one, I still learned from it that I need to work harder not to let my feelings control my temper.” 

“What happened at Castle Black, Jon? Do you want to tell me?” Sam reverted to the familiar appellation appealing to his friend now and not to his future sovereign.

“Short version: Blinded by my disgust for the man I almost revealed too much to Jaime Lannister. But that is a story for another time. Perhaps when your hand isn’t cramping?” 

Sam blinked, taken aback.

“I am not blind, Sam. I noticed. I am sure you will want your hand in good working order when I tell you what drove a young Kingsguard to stab the King he had vowed to protect in the back.” Jon revealed a bit of the contents and relished to see the shock on Sam’s face increase.

“He told you?” Was all Sam got out.

“He did.” Jon resolved to save the story for another time. He needed to tackle another subjects with Sam tonight.

“Then I will hold you to that. Promise me not to leave Dragonstone before you do though. These days you are always flying off to somewhere. I am sure Davos is frustrated as hell. His last missive was rather eloquent.” Sam pleaded.

“I’ll try not to. But I wanted to talk about you tonight. You make it rather difficult for a man to do that, you know? You are always full of questions and wise advice. Now it is my turn. What are your plans, Sam? And with that I mean what would you really want to do? Set aside all the things we have ever spoken about or wishes I might have uttered. Just here and now, just between us two good friends, knowing what you know now and having experienced all you have these last few moons, what would Samwell Tarly want to do? What do you want to accomplish in your live? What are your most fervent ambitions?”

“You do not want me to go to the Citadel and become a Maester any longer?” Sam looked out of his depth now.

“That was not the question, Sam. Do YOU want to go to the Citadel to become a Maester?” Jon tried once more.

“I might, uh I think so, but perhaps not, uh perhaps not right away? I know you say I should do what I want and not think about you but that is impossible. You see, what I want most to do for myself is to help you. Like how I helped you by searching for dragonglass or of thinking of ways with Gendry to make it stronger. How we write all these letters together. I thrive on how you seem to welcome my advice. With you I feel I can make a difference. If you change the course of history, I’d like to think that may I played a little part in that. You listen to me an make it feel as if I have a purpose, as if I am perhaps uh somehow uh important as well?” 

Sam looked at Jon a devoted expression in his eyes. When Jon stayed silent waiting for Sam to be more concrete he added talking quickly, “I am certain that leaving now for the Citadel is not the best way to help you. The coming moons you will need all the help you can get. You do see the historical importance of what we are about to do, don’t you? These are important times. I can always go the Citadel later.” Checking Jon’s reaction and seeing his friend was hanging onto every word he found the courage to elaborate even further.

“The only thing that is making me doubt is that in not going I will miss out on a few resources, books I mean, that contain knowledge that can probably only be found in the Citadel. But when I think of going there now, I hesitate. First of all a novice will not have access to the more advanced topics that I will want to research. Second, if I leave now for the Citadel, you will not see me for moons on end. I know a Maester’s training is rather restrictive, certainly at first. I used to talk a lot to the Maester at Horn Hill about this when I was younger. He told me his first ten moons as a novice were an utter waste of his time and energy. It got slightly better after he forged his first link and became an acolyte but even then it only got significantly better after he had forged almost half of his links.” 

Suddenly aware he had been conducting a rather long monologue he apologized.  
I’m sorry. I have been rambling, haven’t I. Did you find the answer to your question somewhere in there?”

“I did, Sam. You still want to become a Maester but prefer not to leave me before things are settled at the Wall and in the Seven Kingdoms. I appreciate that you want to stay by my side and I love you for it. I also understand we need to find a way to give you access to the Citadel’s library one way or another and perhaps even find a means, some loophole that permits you to forge your first links almost immediately when you do leave for the Citadel. If you study up on a few of the simpler specialties, with your extraordinary memory, you should pass their tests with flying colours. If you wait till I am this famous King Aegon Sixth of his Name, perhaps I can use my royal influence to speed up the date of your tests.” Jon’s voice got more enthusiastic as possible solutions popped up in his mind.

“I didn’t tell you all this to get royal privileges, Jon.” Sam had gotten nervous when he heard the lengths his friend was willing to go to, to help him.

“I know you didn’t, Sam. That doesn’t mean I cannot reward loyalty of my own free will. Besides, I am going to instigate some revolutionary reforms. Perhaps I can influence the Archmaesters at the Citadel to change some of their old ways as well? If I give them enough hints and incentives - there must be something they need, or something we can help them with - they will perhaps modernise their educational system a bit?” A thought struck him.  
“Have the books here at Dragonstone provided you with new information? I recall Gendry mentioning the idea of performing some tests with dragonfire? Will you need Gendry here for the practical side of your research?” 

“Ideally, yes. But I have given him a list of fake words to replace real ones so we can write each other about ideas and hopefully also about the progress we make. I reckoned a version of the code you use was too complicated. Gendry only recently learned to write.”

“Fake words, now you are making me curious. Tell me?” Jon was always a stickler for puzzles and riddles.

“For example we use the word soup instead of fire and when Gendry writes ‘the soup needs to be colder’ well I should perhaps mention the adjectives are antonyms.” Sam explained.

“Antonyms, Sam?”

“Opposites. Colder means hotter, you see. That way we can write each other and no one who reads our message will figure out that we are trying to unravel the secret of Valyrian Steel, or want to make dragonglass weapons stronger than ever before.”

“And what are your theories, Sam?

“I have several. Your words are ‘Fire and Blood’. I think that might have something to do with it. Dragonfire burns hotter, that is a given. Blood, uh well perhaps steel was mixed with blood of a dragon or of a person who is called a dragon, uh a Targaryen, like you? Or perhaps and I sincerely hope that this is the case, they mean dragonglass which when melted also looks a bit like thick dark blood. As soon as Gendry has finished forging most of the weapons from the dragonglass, we will start with simple tests to see if uh ordinary steel and dragonglass can be mixed together when melted down. Gendry wanted to try with a small amount of dragonglass, you see, nine parts steel for one part of dragonglass. If these materials don’t mix well when heated with uh ordinary fire, I mean…”

“You will want to try with dragonfire? I am curious to see if your ideas might work. I hope you won’t need dragonblood from Rhaegal nor Viserion and certainly not my blood.” Jon voiced his concerns. “I am curious though. What are your code words for dragonglass and regular steel?” 

Uh, dragonglass are vegetables and the steel is the meat.”

“So _the cold soup needs more meat and fewer vegetables_ would be a message you might send to Gendry? Sam, have I already told you that you are a genius today?” Jon never ceased to be amazed by the creative ideas Sam sometimes cooked up.

“Uh, perhaps?” Sam stammered.

“You will need to work on your delivery. You are so smart, yet you speak so hesitatingly. You do not have to become as arrogant as Prince Oberyn but you could put a bit more confidence in your speech, in your tone of voice. It will help persuade the Archmaesters at the Citadel that you know what you are about.” Jon advised.

“I realise I need to work on that, Jon. But uh, you see, I am who I am, and building confidence takes time. My father made sure to kill every bit of confidence I was born with.” Sam defended himself.

“Then we will cultivate it. Do not underestimate your worth, Sam. Not only do you have an exceptional memory, you have a logical way of thinking and can come up with solutions long before any of us have made all the connections needed to get there. Our accidental meeting must have been orchestrated by the Gods. Fortunate happenstances like these help me believe the Gods approve and we are doing the right thing. They prevent me from feeling guilty for going through with my ambition of claiming the throne.”

He studied his friend a while before addressing a concern he had ever since he had noticed Sam recording his words.  
“Now I have one last question for you, Sam. Every time I first laid eyes on you again here on Dragonstone, you have been scribbling like … well like nothing I can think to compare it with. I have never seen anyone write so fast nor so frequently. What are you planning to do with all these notes?”

“Well I thought to write the history of the reign of King Aegon VI. And like every tale, people want to know where their hero came from. Your story does not start the day of your coronation. It started more than seventeen years ago. It will be a riveting story starting with the tragic love affair of your parents. I have been working on it for a long time already. It will be a uh masterpiece if I say so myself. Anyway, if you are willing, I will be asking a lot of questions over the next few years.” Sam was quick to take advantage of Jon’s willingness to discuss this topic.

“Will I have a say in its content? Like erase some idiotic things I said about Robb Stark or other stuff.” Jon kept his tone light but he needed the question answered.

“Not if it distorts the truth too much. We are not writing a fairy tale that tells only the good things, it should be an accurate account of your reign, a history book. Minor details of your personal life here and there are allowed to be, uh, forgotten, shall we say?” Sam watched for Jon’s reaction closely.

“Well glad to hear that you will not be reporting the stupid fight I had with Dany this afternoon.” Jon responded with a wry smile.

“Do you want to tell me about it? I promise not to write it down. Oh, Jon, please do not think I will write down what you tell me in confidence. I will not. The book will only tell facts of your reign. I see now why you wanted to have a say in the content. I am sorry, I didn’t understand and made light of it. I am so sorry, Jon, uh my Prince, uh …”

“Relax Sam. Let us make a pact here and now. You write your book the way you think it should be written. Of course you will respect my privacy when not relevant to the main story of my reign. You promise me on your honour that you will keep everything you write confidential, keep it under lock and key. I will be the first one to read it and we will discuss the paragraphs I am not comfortable with. Nobody will see or know about this book or its content until I give permission to release it.” Jon told him with an authority that left no room for interpretation.

“You promise you will discuss uh different opinions with an open mind and not just say I have to adhere to your wishes because you are the King?” Sam shifted a bit in his seat.

“I’ll try, Sam. I promise I’ll try. But it is my life you are writing about. My life laid out for everyone to read. Just imagine someone wrote the story of your life, starting with the struggle with your father. Imagine the author wrote it from the perspective of your father, colouring events so you looked ridiculous. Would you not want to have a means to change the content slightly before the entire word was allowed to read a version of your life that makes you want to avoid every single person who read it because you are ashamed of how they will look at you now?”

“I am sorry, Jon. I see now I have been overstepping big time. I obviously got carried away thinking I could become this famous historian whose book people would still be read thousands of years after I died because your story is so captivating that I forgot it is not my story to tell. It is yours. I am so sorry.”

“It is okay, Sam, really. We will find a safe place where we can hide your manuscript and we will discuss the content at length before a single word gets out to the realm. I am sure we will find a balance somehow and produce a version of my history that we both find acceptable. I promise you that I will not ask another man, or woman for that matter, to write my story. If a book about my life is published with my accreditation, it will be written by Samwell Tarly a reliable source since he lived his entire life in close proximity to the King he wrote about truthfully and without embellishment.” Jon was coming around to the fact that someone would write his history. There were books on every King that had ever ruled. Perhaps letting Sam write the tale of his reign was his best option. Still, they would have to find a balance.

“And I promise to stay neutral and not let myself get carried away so I do not blow things out of proportion to make the book more captivating.” Sam promised.  
“Now do you want to tell your friend, and not the famous historian what happened between you and Princess Daenerys this afternoon? Will you tell me why you feel like you’ve made a mistake?”

“Now who is thinking of himself as two different persons? Sam, the friend or Sam, the historian?”

“Jon, that is entirely different and you know it. I just meant you need not fear that I will write down what you tell me of this personal struggle. You are only prolonging the inevitable. If you do not want to tell me, just say so.” Sam tried once more to get his friend to talk about his issue with Princess Daenerys that was clearly weighing him down.

“I am still not clear myself what really happened. Just picture it, one minute we are talking in a friendly manner, the next I am scolding her for not telling me about the politically important offer that the Tyrells have presented to her more than two moons ago. Next she asks me to my face why I do not consider marrying her and to top it all off she accuses me, ME of all people of not giving women chances to do something with their lives other than bearing children for husbands that are forced upon them!”

“Calm down, Jon. You are shouting. Now let’s break this down. The Tyrells made her an offer. I gather you mean an offer for a betrothal. Did she reply to them without consulting you?” 

“No, she didn’t. She said it was an open offer and the ball was in her court.” Jon admitted.

“So no political harm done?” Sam glanced over at Jon to better understand his reaction.

“I didn’t know that when I uttered my first accusations.” Jon defended himself a bit deflated.

“All right, did she tell you why she concealed it from you?” Sam dug a bit deeper.

“She was afraid I would jump on the opportunity to forge an alliance with the Reach and would marry her off without a single consideration for her wellbeing.” Jon’s defiant attitude had no effect on Sam. His friend stayed calm when he replied.

“Well as head of House Targaryen you have the authority to marry her off without her consent but she should know you better than that. Keep in mind we are dealing with a woman in love. I heard they don’t always think rational when a suitor is involved. Tell me, what did you reply when she spoke of a marriage between the two of you?” Sam gave Jon a look that that warned him denying the fact that Daenerys had a tendre for him had no point.

“I told her we had to be realistic and that the situation was such that it was not out of the question one of us or even both of us would have to marry for political reasons. But that nothing had been decided yet and it could still all work out. I promised her I would always consider her wellbeing and that I would talk to her before a final agreement was made on her behalf.”

“That is a sensible reply. I still do not see how that could lead to her accusations? Anyone who spends a few days with you knows you would never treat women unfairly, let alone your own female kin.”

“She asked for a future position on the small council and before I could even react she got all defensive and asked whether I was a man who though women were just incubators. I might have overreacted a bit.” Jon acknowledged.

“You think?” Sam arched one eyebrow.

“Well my nerves were on edge what with the scare about possibly insulted Tyrells and her coming on to me so strong as to ask me straight out to marry me. I was no longer calm when she accused me of discriminating against women. Not to mention I have been under a lot of stress lately. Give me a break, Sam?” Jon pleaded.

“It is not me that should give you a break. You are feeling guilty all by yourself. I am just taking you through the different phases of your conversation to help you figure out where it went wrong.” Sam stayed calm. “I am the first to admit that I am not an expert when it comes to men and women trying to uh, trying to … communicate together. I can only analyse your conversation. And if it will help you, I can tell you that in my honest opinion, I mean, in as far as I can tell by this one sided account, she overreacted as well.”

“Thank you. I know I behaved like a moron. I am glad I am not the only one who believes she was a bit of one herself. But that knowledge doesn’t help me decide how to go forward from here.” He muttered miserably. “

“It will, Jon, you just have to decide what you want to happen first. Now tell me, how did you part? Will she still speak to you when she passes you in the hallway and will you still be able to share a meal together? Knowing something of your disposition and diplomatic skills, you must at least have tried to get her to understand your point of view.” 

“That is a funny story actually. But to skip right to the end, I did manage to broker a truce. Eventually we both agreed to take a step back and think about all that was said. We agreed to meet again tomorrow afternoon. I promised to take her with me on Rhaegal’s back for a short ride.” Jon calmed down a bit when images of flying high up in the air with Dany sitting close to him on Rhaegal’s back flitted through his mind. He forced himself to focus his attention back on Sam when his friend coughed discreetly.

“Just to be clear, you do not want to marry her?” Sam didn’t hesitate to go straight to the heart of the matter. The dreamy expression on Jon’s face had only confirmed what he had been suspecting all along.

“I can’t marry her.” Again Jon got agitated and the way he spoke these words was very revealing.

“Would you marry her if you could?” Sam tried to goad him into voicing his wishes out loud.

“It doesn’t matter either way, Sam. I can’t.” This time it was Jon who fidgeted nervously in his chair.

Sam knew he was finally reaching the core of the problem.  
“Because of politics? Let me play the imagine game you played with me before. Imagine you are this benevolent King Aegon the Sixth of his Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, the Dragonrider, friend of the Free Folk and so on, and so on. The realm is peaceful, everyone is happy. You are still unmarried, she is still single. Would you marry her?”

“I do not know.” Jon confessed after a long pause.

Sam looked baffled when he saw Jon’s hunched shoulders.  
“Don’t you love her?” He tried once more to understand what was holding his friend back.

“She is my aunt.” Jon’s matter of fact reply gave Sam his first clue.

“Do you love her as more than an aunt?” Wrestling information from Jon about this topic required all his patience and skills.

“What if I do? She is my kin. My grandfather who happens to be her father was raving mad. I can’t risk bringing children into the realm that could potentially destroy this better world we are creating. Not to mention the dilemma of a parent who cares for a child that is a danger to society.”

“Would you marry her if you knew beforehand your children would be healthy?” Sam was relentless.

“Sam, you are killing me here.” Jon looked like a petulant child now.

“Would you like some advice or not?” Sam’s reply was simple, his bait irresistible.

“Do you have some?” Jon looked up now, hesitant to get his hopes up.

“I think I do, yes.” His friend’s earnest eyes convinced Jon to hear him out.

“Then I’d love to hear your advice, Sam, anything to help me make sense of these painful feelings. I can’t begin to describe how confused I am about this whole business.” Jon sat up straighter.

“Well, where do I start? In my humble opinion and to repeat some of your own advice I heard you give others, you should be as truthful as possible with her. You explain to her calm and rationally why you are not free to marry her yet even if you love her. Which you do not have to admit to me if you do,” he added hastily. 

“Hypothetically speaking, if you really love her and you somehow manage with the help of your genius adviser sitting right here before you and perhaps with some help of other advisers as well, to successfully complete all of your goals, and you both still happen to be single, then you can talk with her about a possible marriage between you to again.  
In the meantime, you ask that famed greenseer of yours that so clearly saw how to resolve the situation at the Vale if he can try to look into your future. Chances are that the magic in your Stark blood is strong enough to give you several beautiful healthy children. Once that obstacle is out of the way, well I will leave you to think of the last steps yourself.” Sam managed to look a little smug.

Jon considered these words. A fragment of his dream with the three children playing with the black egg crossed his mind. There had been two silverhaired ones, clearly resembling Daenerys or someone else with Valyrian features and one with black curly hair. He had hoped it was a greendream when he woke up with the happy feeling from his dream still lingering in his mind.  
He paled when he remembered his uncle Aemon’s explanation about the greendreams he could invoke himself under certain circumstances to look at the future of House Targaryen. He startled when a hand touched his arm.

“Jon! Jon, come back to me. Oh, there you are again. You turned pale and your eyes glazed over. I was getting worried. What happened?”

“I just remembered a dream I had. Sam, your words, they gave me hope and new ideas I have to study some more. Thanks. You are wise beyond your years. I hope to have you at my side, always. Together we will frustrate our enemies to no end.”

“You have done much for me as well, Jon, from the very first moment we met when you were simple Jon Celtigar.” His tone was slightly teasing but pale earnest eyes look into Jon’s. “I am glad I can do something for you in return for once.”

“You have already paid me back twice over, Sam. I am very lucky to count you as my friend. If ever you need a favour from me. Do not hesitate. Just ask.” Jon promised.

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Sam started though his cheeky smile reassured his friend he was just asking for a minor thing, “I am really tired and would want to retire now. Perhaps his Grace would give me permission ...”

“Go to bed, Sam,” Jon interrupted. “I will make sure we will find plenty of time to see each other over the coming days. Oh before you leave, I hope you realise that you have officially been named a member of my small council and I expect you to be present at every meeting when you are able?”

“With or without Daenerys present?” Sam couldn’t help but tease his friend. He had gotten up and was walking to the door.

Jon chuckled and answered in the same teasing manner. “Depends on how well-mannered she is tomorrow afternoon.”  
He was pleased to see Sam's smile widen into a grin before his friend shut the door behind him.

 

 

 

**Interlude21: A trap**

Robb was tired, tired of juggling the responsibilities of being Lord of Winterfell, tired of keeping the peace between his siblings, tired of fighting with them over the issue of the direwolves mingling with their guests, tired of entertaining said guests and his friend Edric, tired of living up to the strict moral standards of his mother which was difficult at the best of times but Nymeria Sand was pushing his resolve to his very limits. 

It didn’t help that even though he performed his mental exercises with Greywind almost every day, he had not been able to develop their bond much beyond wolf dreams and sensing his direwolf’s feelings when he touched him. And now other guests had arrived and it had become clear that Bran, not Robb was a prodigy, a powerful warg in the making and was singled out by Lord Reed. Suddenly Bran was the focal point of everyone’s attention and nobody minded the fact that Robb was working hard to keep everything running smoothly at Winterfell, in the entire North and was keeping even more guests happy. 

Granted Lord Reed had stayed only for a few days and had been a quiet unobtrusive guest that had offered him some decent advice at times. The man had left after a short stay, taking his brother Bran with him. He also had to admit that Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell were a godsend, providing support any way they could. Edric had become a good friend but was more a distraction than a helping hand. 

Entertaining Prince Oberyn had been a challenge. The Dornish Prince had a knack for stirring up trouble. He had started off by insulting the Lady Brienne, humiliated Edric Dayne, Theon Greyjoy and even Robb himself by knocking them to the ground with his long spear before they could get two strikes in and instead of helping them, the Prince had made fun of them and called them sluggish. When they protested blaming the element of surprise and their lack of experience in fighting an opponent wielding a longspear, Prince Oberyn had not hesitated with his answer. 

"On the battlefield,” he had stated adopting a serious mien for a change, “if an opponent comes at you with a weapon you are not familiar with, you don’t get the chance to complain that it isn’t fair since they did not teach you the right techniques yet to counter him. You would be dead before you uttered your first syllable.” 

Nobody could object to this wise piece of advice but the Prince’s arrogant smirk hadn’t helped their dented pride. Then the vexing man had taunted them even further by stating that twelve year old Jon Celtigar had shown more promise at his tender age than they did now as grownups. “That boy defeated me recently, the first one to do so in a long time.” He had added fuel to the fire. 

The only good thing Prince Oberyn’s visit had brought about was the sudden departure of Roose Bolton. Robb wasn’t sure what had happened exactly between the two men. One evening he had seen them drinking together. The next morning, Roose Bolton had left before dawn leaving only a note with some vague excuse of being needed at the Dreadfort. Immensely relieved to be rid of Lord Bolton’s spine-chilling stare, Robb had made an effort to tolerate Prince Oberyn and his high maintenance daughter. He had found an unexpected ally in his little sister, Arya. Somehow she had charmed Prince Oberyn into giving her some lessons and for some unfathomable reason the Dornish Prince had taken a liking to her. Well the man had raised or was still raising seven or eight spirited daughters. Perhaps Arya’s fighting spirit was the norm in his household. 

Often his youngest sister could be seen dancing around the courtyard with a long spear to perfect the moves Prince Oberyn had taught her during morning sparring sessions. Robb had seen Arya cross spears with Nymeria Sand. But what had really amazed him was that an incredibly patient Prince Oberyn stood at the side-lines and behaved himself well and long enough to encourage his youngest sister and teach her several new tricks. 

One time he had caught the two of them deep in conversation and had stayed out of sight but still within hearing range. Robb had been amused by Prince Oberyn’s attempts to answer a barrage of questions from Arya. His sister had not relented before the Prince had told her exactly when, where and how Jon Celtigar had defeated him recently. The Prince had literally squirmed and had needed to use all his ingenuity to allay the suspicions of his twelve year old sister without revealing that Jon sometimes flew on a dragon across the Seven Kingdom to explain his whereabouts. When she heard he was headed for the Wall where he would most certainly meet Jon Celtigar again she had asked him to give her greetings to Jon and all his friends and not to forget a single one. 

 

***

 

**Almost a moon after Prince Oberyn and his daughter left Winterfell to visit the Wall**

Robb heard Sansa call for Lady beneath the window of the solar. This incited Robb to ponder the problem of the budding romance between his friend Edric Dayne and his sister Sansa. These last few days both of them had wandered around Winterfell with gloomy faces and hardly spoke to anybody, not even each other. A few sennights after Robb’s advice to write to Jon, Edric had closed up and no longer confided in Robb. His friend was even preparing to leave.  
Sansa had been more forthcoming. She had told Robb her mother had taken away all their hopes and the powerful friend Edric had expected support from in some way or other had not taken the trouble to send a response to Edric’s plea.  
“It is hopeless,” she had told her brother in the black and white way of a young girl. “Mother has given instructions to have me chaperoned every instant of the day. Not that is matters since Lord Edric avoids my company anyway. Only fourteen namedays old and my life is basically over. I will marry some awful stranger and will be unhappy for the rest of my life.” 

When Robb had tried to argue that mother didn’t decide these things and that father was a very reasonable person and loved her very much, she countered by saying that her mother had been adamant. Father would most likely marry her off to the son of a lord Paramount. He had already received several offers and was just biding his time. Although no names had been mentioned, she guessed the most likely candidates were Lord Willas of House Tyrell and Lord Robin of House Arryn. Robb had not been able to contradict this without checking this with his father first and had just offered some weak statement that as long as no betrothal had been arranged, not all was lost. 

And now on this bright and sunny day when his siblings were all outside, he sat at his father’s desk, in his father’s solar handling problems his father would be able to deal with ten times as fast as he could. Maester Luwin had a fever and Robb needed to handle the petitions of the Lords of the North on his own or with the help of his mother which he preferred not to ask for since her views were not always tempered by reason. Too often her judgement was limited to things being very right or extremely wrong. His mother clearly had trouble with the word compromise. He sighed. He was on his own. Even Greywind was off somewhere enjoying himself outdoors with his siblings. At times like these, he envied Jon. His cousin had plenty of advisers to turn to, not to mention Jon could literally fly to King’s Landing if he needed to talk to Robb’s father or guide a message safely there himself if he was to believe what his cousin wrote about warging into birds as well. Perhaps he should ask for the dragonrider’s assistance? 

He ignored that farfetched idea for the time being and reviewed the issues in front of him. The Greatjon complained of Wildling raids, Lady Mormont asked to reduce her taxes in exchange for taking care of Cersei Lannister and Lord Glover argued that the price they received for their lumber was too low. Then there was the issue with Ramsay Snow. Apparently the solution his father had tried had not been decisive enough. The visit of his bannermen to the Dreadfort had not produced any results. Neither Roose, nor Domeric Bolton nor Ramsay Snow had been present to receive them. His father’s bannermen had written to Winterfell suggesting Robb talk to Roose Bolton himself since the man had not yet left after the royal visit. Robb sighed again. As if he hadn’t already tried that a few times. Each time Lord Bolton had toyed with him and had expertly avoided the subject. 

He looked with dismay at the most recent missive from Domeric Bolton. The young Lord would not disclose his location since he was currently hiding from his father and more importantly from his bastard brother. He mentioned he had survived several attempts on his life and was one hundred per cent sure it was his closest kin that was plotting to get rid of him. He also accused his half-brother of staging attacks on the most Northern settlements with a small group, posing as Wildlings while committing atrocities. With his father in King’s Landing, the only action Robb could come up with for now was to send his suspicions to Lord Umber who was in charge of the area and to Jeor Mormont at the Wall. He planned to write an extensive letter to his father to ask for advice on several issues. Even if he would not trouble him with the long list of smaller unresolved problems that the smallfolk and the servants brought to his attention, it would be a long missive that should be sent by trusted messenger instead of by raven. The issue of the Boltons on the other hand, he would send to the Red Keep using their fastest raven. 

He was about to summon a servant to enquire after the health of Maester Luwin when a loud knock interrupted his musings. He prayed to the Gods that whoever stood at the door of the solar would not be the bearer of yet another annoying problem. 

It was Theon Greyjoy who entered and tried to guilt tripped Robb into spending an evening with him. Theon did not accept Robb’s excuse of being tired and argued Robb had neglected him these last few sennights. Robb still managed to delay their outing with a few days and agreed to accompany him to Wintertown later that sennight. 

 

***

 

Things got better a few days later when his Uncle Benjen showed up and offered to help him deal with the issues he was currently stuck with. His uncle made Robb realise he went about it the wrong way focussing too much on the problem and on not wanting to displease the Lords of the North. His uncle’s method of focussing on the solution resulted in simple, be it a bit unorthodox ways to compromise. For example, Robb had been close to giving in to House Mormont and cut the taxes they owed their Liege Lord in half. Uncle Benjen told him that would create a dangerous precedent and would give the other bannermen the notion that they were paying too many taxes, which was a delicate issue at the best of times. He suggested Robb write Bear Island and order them to pay the regular taxes to House Stark immediately but that in turn House Stark would provide them with a stipend to pay for the upkeep of Cersei Lannister. Do not let them pay the balance. The accounting books must record that the entire sum of the taxes were received. The allowance will be entered on another page under a different heading. Robb saw his unresolved issues disappear one by one. Soon his desk was almost empty. Maester Luwin could put all the scrolls containing the issues that had been resolved in his archives and Robb only needed to tackle the new scrolls that arrived.

Uncle Benjen also persuaded Edric not to leave for the Wall before he arranged a suitable escort for the young Lord. His uncle personally arranged a caravan with supplies from the Southern regions to depart for Eastwatch, where Edric could meet up with Jon’s entourage and hopefully Jon soon. Edric would stay a few more days before finally saying goodbye to House Stark and Winterfell. 

Things had definitely gotten better for Robb. He started to have more free time and was able to enjoy himself more when he took a break. So when Theon Greyjoy reminded him of his promise to spend an evening in Wintertown together, Robb really looked forward to the outing. 

During their short journey on horseback, Theon sang the praises of a new whore, one that Robb was sure to like very much. At the brothel Theon wasted no time and immediately led Robb to a private room at the back of the establishment. Robb followed eagerly and even cut in front of Theon to be the first one to set foot in the small room. To Robb’s surprise, it was not a beautiful whore that waited for him there. The heir of Winterfell looked straight into the mocking eyes of Ramsay Snow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I am rather curious to learn what my readers' thoughts are.
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Jon and Dany try to make up. Jon has to do some risk assessment. In the interlude, Lady Olenna gives Ned a head ache.
> 
> For those who didn't decrypt Jon’s message to Strickland in last week’s interlude ‘Ravens’, here is what he wrote:  
>  _Will attack Pyke with dragons and Yara Greyjoy soon. Don’t need support but send small contingent of men. Let them make some ruckus so you can claim the victory. Yara Greyjoy will proclaim far and wide that your Company helped her._


	22. Finding a balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany attempt to reconcile and Jon has to do some risk assessment.  
> In the interlude Lady Olenna is a handful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of kudos to my beta Ravenousreadr. Her encouragement and help are a godsend.

***

 

After the conversation with Sam, Jon retired to his room but sleep wouldn’t come quickly. The idea that had popped into his mind wouldn’t let him rest. He clearly remembered every word Uncle Aemon had told him about how some Targaryens could use a certain substance to invoke visions. The mixture of a rare plant and the spores of a certain type of mushrooms might awaken the abilities of their Valyrian blood and possibly induce hallucinations that focussed on his house’s future. And that was exactly what he needed! 

But his great-great-uncle had cautioned him that it was important to get the mixture just right and even then, the after effects could be long lasting and dangerous. He had further warned his nephew that in his particular case things might even be more dangerous since his Stark blood had the potential of giving its owner visions without the use of enhancements. It might well be that the concentration necessary for a full-blooded member of House Targaryen might be too strong for him. Uncle Aemon had made him swear only to undertake such a risky thing if a situation presented itself that was worth the risk, for example helping the members of House Targaryen to save many lives. 

Jon couldn’t shake the idea however that this was perhaps the only means to find out if the mental health of a child he sired in Dany’s womb would be at risk if it had their combined blood. Asking Howland Reed was not really an option. Not only was it a delicate and selfish matter, it would also take a lot of time and even then it was a long shot. The crannogman had often enough told him that he could neither direct his visions nor be sure he received enough detail to know with absolute certainty what his visions meant.

He had a difficult decision to make. If assuring that the next generations of his house would not be affected by madness was paramount to him, he only had two options. 

Option one: he said goodbye to his dream of marrying Dany right here and now and married someone else sometime in the future to give him children. 

Option two: decide to take the risk, make the potion and hopefully catch a glimpse of the future himself. Even if the first option was the more rational one, it was not an optimal solution either. Uncle Aemon had warned him not to dilute the Targaryen blood any further, not with dragons back in the realm. Taking the first option would mean certain heartbreak now and the possibility of facing an extremely difficult decision before he died. How could he even contemplate killing Rhaegal and Viserion? 

Although Jon had fought his great-great-uncle on the subject of marrying his aunt several times, getting to know Daenerys had made a world of difference and enticed him to choose the second option. So now he was really considering risking his health, perhaps even his life to force a vision, a greendream of his own future, the future of his house. He was well aware that this second option needed to be planned carefully. He would not be allowed to tell anyone the details of what he was doing, not even Dany. Uncle Aemon had been adamant. 

So if he really was going to do this, he would have to do it on his own, without Sam’s help, without Davos’ calming influence, without Uncle Benjen’s support and without his guards to protect him. Well, perhaps his dragons and Ghost would be willing to guard him when the substance knocked him out cold and he was unconscious for an undetermined amount of time. 

He also needed to find a way to procure the two ingredients needed for the potion himself without arousing suspicion. Well, it was dark now so he could not start looking for the plants and mushrooms right now. He would do better to stop thinking about it and to try to get some sleep. He needed to be rested for his pivotal talk with Dany tomorrow afternoon. 

These good intentions didn’t succeed in keeping the thoughts from circling around in his mind. The talk with Dany tomorrow afternoon really needed to go smoothly this time around. To achieve that, he should have a clear mind and not be troubled or distracted by other issues. That last thought prompted him to schedule a strenuous training session in the morning. It would get his blood pumped, his mind distracted and he would be tired in a good way. His body didn’t need to be alert. It was his mind that needed to be clear. 

Having some beginnings of a plan in place, his mind finally agreed to let his body succumb to sleep. 

 

***

 

Jon woke the next morning with the lingering memory of that wonderful dream he had already dreamt a few times before. Three small children were playing, but this time not with a beautiful black egg. Instead they were playing with a small black dragon. 

A smile lingered on his face as well. He wondered who these children were. He had felt a kinship to them but wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be his children, his grandchildren, future nieces or nephews or kin even further down his line. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that this was more than just a mere dream. He almost believed but certainly hoped that it was a glimpse of a possible future. He felt rejuvenated somehow and dressed quickly. 

Despite his short night, Jon had energy to spare during his impromptu rather intensive training session with Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell. Halfway through both knights had admitted defeat and had doubled up facing Jon simultaneously. Jon was relentless today. It was clear the young man had to blow off some steam. It seemed he was trying to lose the stress and frustration of the last few sennights in one training session. 

Jon realised that it had been a while since Ser Gerold had seen him go all out in the training yard. Now Jon had both of them on the defensive once more. Ser Gerold was glad the Prince finally gave up and sat down on a low wall. 

“What has gotten into you this morning, my Prince? You fought like you had to save the lives of your loved ones.”

“Giving all I have is what you taught me to do, Ser Gerold. I had not found the time for an intensive session for a sennight at least. I wanted to make up for it. We need to schedule regular morning sessions again. There has been little opportunity to spar at Castle Black or beyond the Wall. And even during those trainings, I had to hold back for most of the session. It wouldn’t have been polite to trash Nymeria Sand or humiliate Tormund Giantsbane in front of his men.”

“If you are getting too old to keep up with me, perhaps there are younger guards willing to train with me?” Jon appealed to their pride but his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Not so fast, young man. Next time you will do some physical training first and practice some moves we show you. Then we will come in all fresh and highly motivated to kick your ass. Even with our slightly more advanced number of celebrated namedays, we are still substantially better than any guard you can find out here. You would only scare the poor men all the way to King’s Landing and we want to keep them here, loyal to us. Do not underestimate the value of our experience. I saw several of your moves coming from a mile away.” Ser Gerold was quick to tone his Prince’s smugness down a nudge.

“That’s because you were the ones that taught me those combinations in the first place. You know more than eighty per cent of my moves and I still beat you. How do you explain that?” Sweat was starting to tickle down his face and Jon wiped it away with his sleeve.

“Well, the other twenty percent of course.” Ser Oswell laughed but then grew serious. 

“Your speed, my Prince. You improved the frequency of your strikes enormously. You fight so fast that I seriously wonder if there is anyone out there who can keep up with you during a longer fight. Your style has improved as well. Your technique, well I challenge even Ser Arthur to find fault with it and your footwork is so light, elegant and highly efficient. How did you manage to achieve so much improvement in just a few moons?”

“Ser Arthur still found fault, believe me. Even after I beat him, he still had lots of criticism.” Jon arched his eyebrow, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. A pause ensued. Jon’s eyes looked lost in thought as he pondered the question. He lifted his head slightly ad looked at his kingsguards. 

“Let me try to explain. Something did happen. There was this one training session that everything just kind of fell into place. If I had to put it into words, I would say that I suddenly found my own rhythm or something of the sort. I might even profess that I found my own style. I no longer think about which foot to place in front or when to step to the side or even which combination of strokes to go for next. It just comes naturally. My entire body and mind are linked to my sword.” 

Jon got nervous not knowing if they really understood him or believed what he was telling them. He spun his training sword with one arm and tried to express himself more clearly.

“I can mostly read what my opponent plans as his next move with plenty of time to spare and I often have to hold back. That is why it is nice to spar with you two again. Only Ser Arthur and Sandor can keep up with me and Sandor’s head wasn’t always in the game. Too many late nights with Tormund and the ladies, I suspect.” 

He put down his sword since his fiddling was not helping him concentrate on the discussion.

“I also did a lot of scouting beyond the Wall and there wasn’t much time left to spar. I hope at least two out of the three of you can show up each morning for an intensive training session as long as I am here? I would like to keep the skill level I have attained and if possible improve some more. I know I need to gain more strength. I have to develop more muscles. So if you can find some exercises that focus on that, by all means, tire me out before you fight me. I am feeling very ambitious. I want to be sure I can face any opponent, no matter how tall, how strong or how skilled.”

Jon looked at Ser Gerold specifically when he voiced his goals.

“Then come prepared tomorrow, my Prince. I promise we will not make it easy on you.” His Lord Commander was quick to oblige.

“I look forward to it. Thanks for this session, Ser Oswell, Ser Gerold.” Jon picked up his training sword, got up from the short wall and stretched his slightly stiffened up limbs. “I am going to freshen up. Shall I see you at lunch?”

“I’ll escort you to your room, my Prince.” Ser Oswell offered and together they walked toward the castle.”

Ser Gerold watched them leave and shook his head in wonderment. He had never seen a man fight like that before. Not even the Sword of the Morning. All credit to Ser Arthur though. The boy mastered his footwork and had impeccable technique. He was lightening fast and fought smart as well. _‘And driven,’_ he added as an afterthought. To fight like that and ask for more intensive training, their Prince was one of a kind.

He picked up some discarded pieces of armour and felt the stiffness in his back. Jon was right. He was getting old. He shook his head. The two of them simultaneously trying their utmost had barely been able to hold off one young man. He would have liked to see Jon defeat Ser Arthur, even if it had happened during a single bout. It would surely happen more often now. He wondered how long ago it had been that the Sword of the Morning had needed to admit defeat in a sparring session when he had been healthy and giving it his all. With a contented smile on his face, he started the long walk back to the castle.

 

*** 

 

Jon took a hot bath to ease his sore muscles. He felt tired but extremely relaxed. His mind was empty. He felt as nice as after a mind sharing session with his dragons. He could sense the blood flow through his body and felt like he could take on the world. Well he would need to take on Daenerys. Somehow that thought didn’t scare him as much as it had done last night. He even looked forward to it now. 

He put on his nicest outfit and together with Ser Oswell who also appeared with wet hair and a clean garb, they walked to the room where they usually took their meals. He knew his Kingsguards were wondering what was going on between him and the Targaryen Princess but he appreciated the fact that they kept silent on that subject. Neither a word, a hint nor a look had been uttered about it during his training session not even when Ser Oswell escorted him back to the castle and left him in front of the door of his quarters. Jon really was lucky with such loyal people surrounding him.

 

When he entered the modest room where they preferred to partake of their morning and midday meals, Daenerys was already seated. It was the first time he saw her today. He smiled, glad to see her relax a bit upon witnessing that he was looking not the least bit nervous himself. Still the meal was somewhat awkward due to the intense scrutiny of Ser Barristan. 

When Jon teased Ser Gerold that he needed to train more to keep up, the men started to banter and the tension around the table lessened. Daenerys even laughed out loud one time at something Ser Oswell said. To Jon’s immense relief, Sam noticed the discomfiting stares Ser Barristan directed at Jon distracted the knight by asking him about the building styles in Pentos. 

Daenerys was the first one to retreat when the meal was over. She looked somewhat nervous when she told Jon that she wanted to change into something better suited for a ride than the dress she was currently wearing and promised to meet him out on the cliff where she had met the dragons the day before. Jon nodded his head and watched her leave, his heart beating loudly. He would follow Sam’s advice and somehow it would all work out. Sam smiled encouragingly at him when Jon left the table soon after.

 

***

 

He stood out on the windy cliff long before Daenerys showed up. He distracted his mind by counting the ships he could see from up here. He counted almost fifty and knew there were others in the smaller bay that was not visible from here. Most of them had come from the Driftmark, a smaller number had come all the way from White Harbour. He knew a lot more were on their way. 

At least sixty ships out of the one hundred and twenty that lay in White Harbour as a part of his future royal fleet would make the trip to Dragonstone in small convoys of five ships. It was necessary to move them gradually since they did not want to draw undue attention to an armada gathering so close to King’s Landing. 

He turned his head and inspected the far cliff where he could see the encampments that were growing larger by the day. More than half of the crew stayed on land now and Ser Gerold had given them leave to establish camp there close to a small village that provided the necessary infrastructure. The people had taken the Prince’s speech to heart and were cooperating nicely. It did help that they received a fair fee for their services. Soon Dragonstone would thrive like never before. 

Ser Oswell stood next to Jon on the cliff and surveyed the goings on as well. He had promised his Prince to make himself scarce as soon as Dany arrived with Ser Barristan. Both knights would be free from duty anyway once they had flown off on Rhaegal.

Finally Jon saw her descend the long stairway. Her figure looked small and fragile from where he stood. She was wearing breaches. That much he could make out. The coat she wore over them had an elegant cut and betrayed her gender, as did the braids of silverwhite hair. Jon swallowed. He really hoped he would be able to find the right words this time around.

“Well, here we are,” she said nervously studying his face when she finally stood before him.

“I hope you are nervous about riding a dragon and not about having to talk to me, Dany.” He took her hand, his face betraying neither thought nor mood while performing this simple gesture. “Would you prefer I call the dragons now, or do you want to talk first?”

“Call the dragons?” She proposed hesitantly. “I have been dreaming all night about seeing the world from up high.”

“Give me a moment. Last I checked they were slumbering in the caves near the beach.” Jon closed his eyes for what seemed like a very short moment. 

“They are on their way and eager to take us both up in the air, Dany. Come on. Let’s move away from the edge. We will mount Rhaegal over there.” With his free arm he pointed to a spot to her left.

When they approached the green dragon, Daenerys looked at his enormous flank in wonder. “However am I going to get all the way up there?” She spoke her thoughts out loud. 

His earnest eyes look into hers. “Rhaegal and I will help you. See him lowering his wing already? You can use it as a makeshift stairway. Once up there, grab one of his spines and pull yourself up. I will be right behind you and can lift you up if necessary.” 

In the end Jon hardly needed to help her. She sat there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jon installed himself behind her, gathered his arms around her and took hold of the spike in front of them. 

She held on to the one before that. Safely nestled between his strong thighs and arms she let the warmth of the dragon flow through her.  
“Aegon, this is amazing already. I envy you.”

“Hold on,” he warned moments before Rhaegal took off. Viserion followed and flew very close to their left side. Jon knew all too well the silverwhite dragon was keeping an eye on him to make sure he behaved this time with the young kinswoman.

The upward motion catapulted Daenerys’ body firmly against Jon’s chest. Neither of them corrected this position when the dragons flew more level again. Jon enjoyed their combined warmth where her back touched him. This was it. This was Dany. She was the only one who could share this wonderful feeling of soaring through the sky with him. He savoured the feeling and tightened his arms around her a bit to get her attention. 

“Are you enjoying yourself? Are you comfortable?” He asked his mouth close to her ear.

“I have no words to describe this feeling, Aegon. It is as if the entire world is ours. Look! See how small the fortress is. Oh, is that there the Driftmark?” Daenerys had to shout her reply so he could hear it before the wind blew the sound away.

“Yes, that is the island where I spent part of my youth. The people really love me there. We are going to circle around. Feel free to wave at them. They will welcome the sight of both of us on a dragon. Hold on tight we are going to make a steep turn now.”  
One of his hands released Rhaegal’s spine to secure her more tightly.

“Don’t worry!” She shouted over the wind. “I don’t think I can fall off even if I wanted to.”

“In that case.” Jon encouraged Rhaegal to fly random figures in the air and enjoyed her shrieks of excitement. He shifted his thighs a bit to press her tighter so she would stay safe.”

Both dragons were putting on a show. Daenerys was keeping her eyes on Viserion’s antics so Jon needed to point out the people of the Driftmark that were gathering on the shore to greet them.

“Wave, Dany. They are watching us.” 

Dany hesitantly loosened one arm.

“I’ve got you.” Jon whispered in her ear. “You’re safe with me, just wave at them. Rhaegal will fly a bit lower, slower and straight for now. I’ll warn you when he will turn back to fly over the beach once more to oblige the people down there.”

After they made four passes over the ever growing crowd on the beach, Dany leaned back and turned her head to the right and slightly upward so she could look at Jon. 

“Will we make a stop here at the Driftmark and greet the people properly?” She didn’t need to shout positioned like this.

“I promised Ser Gerold I would not do that. I have given him enough to worry about lately. We agreed I would land on Dragonstone near the small bay where the other part of the fleet is anchored. He might have sent someone over there to guard us.” Jon who could now see her face looking happy and excited found her more enticing than ever. 

“Let’s stay in the air a bit longer. I like it up here.” To emphasize her words she nestled herself back in her initial position and he could feel her relax against his body. Without thinking, he drew her closer to him and held her tighter than necessary. 

Jon flew low over the island showing her the small settlement and the house where he grew up and where his elderly foster grandmother still resided. She was also interested in the caves where he had hatched his dragons. Everything was going well. Their talk would go a lot smoother now that their joint flight had broken the ice. He felt his dragons’ encouragement and slowly steered them back to the prearranged spot on Dragonstone.

Jon helped her descend and guided her through her first wobbly steps. “I experienced the same after my first flight. You’ll get used to it. We’ll do this again soon. My dragons liked having you up there with us.” 

“And you didn’t?” She flirted totally relaxed in his presence now.

“I enjoyed it immensely. You are the only person who really understands it fully now. I can try to describe this feeling to someone else but they can never grasp the joy of soaring through the air, the intensity of the effect of their warmth, their presence flowing through our bodies. Any attempt to go into more detail feels like boasting, like I am trying to make them envious. This is something we will always have, Dany, no matter how things turn out.” His expression softened as he studied her. 

Dany didn’t reply to that. She had experienced the dragon’s warmth. How could she not. But she hadn’t felt Rhaegal’s presence flowing through her body the way Aegon just had described to her. She smiled back at him though not wanting to disappoint him nor disturb this feeling of compatibility, of kinship between them.

She watched Jon say a lengthy goodbye to his dragons. He had his head once more against the green dragon’s scales and seemed to be having an entire conversation. Eventually both dragons took to the sky. Jon watched them for a few moments before giving her his full attention.

He took her hand and led her to a wooden bench that provided a beautiful view over the harbour. Jon had noticed Ser Barristan stand before a shelter and nodded slightly without Daenerys noticing. The knight disappeared inside the small cabin. Jon understood he would keep an eye on them discreetly through the narrow window that faced the harbour but Dany would not know he was there. He hoped it would make their talk easier if she didn’t realise they were being chaperoned.

“You are done talking about things and have reached a conclusion?” She asked him when they were both seated on the bench. She was very curious to hear what he had come up with. She had lain awake most of the night, her thoughts going around in circles and was far from reaching a happy solution herself.

“Come here Dany. Sit closer.” He said when he noticed her apprehensive expression.

He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer still. “It is easier to talk to you this way. When I touch you like this, you feel more accessible. Don’t worry. I will not lose my temper this time around. I’ve made sure that I am more relaxed today. Yesterday was a difficult day for both of us for many reasons.”

“Am I going to like what you are about to tell me?” She tried to decipher his mood.

In response he tightened his arm around her to give her comfort.“I am going to tell you the truth, Dany. You decide whether you like it or not.” 

Her eyes widened and he saw her swallow.

“To avoid misunderstandings, I want to make it very clear that today is the only day I am going to address this. I will not acknowledge this talk for moons to come. We will revisit this conversation later when things have run its course.” He ran a hand over his face, his heartbeat quickening as he considered his next words within his mind.

She stayed silent but her eyes were big as saucers as she looked into his loving grey eyes that didn’t lie to her now but showed her he cared about her … a lot. She was still shocked though when he came right out and said the words she had once heard him speak in a dream shortly after meeting him for the first time in Pentos.

“I think I love you, Dany.” He paused and shook his head. 

“No, that is not right. Let me start that again. I know I love you. I have, from the very first moment I saw you but I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself back then.” 

He took a deep breath. If only he could stay in this moment forever. If only he didn’t have other responsibilities. He readjusted his position, removed his arm and sat more sideways now, so it was easier to face her. To add even more meaning to his words he took both her hands in his. 

“If I were just Jon Celtigar, an insignificant Lord of the Driftmark, I would fall on my knees before you and ask you to marry me this instant.” 

“But,” Daenerys started, however the protest died on her lips. Jon had freed one hand so he could move it upwards and had softly put his fingers on her mouth.

“Shhh, Let me talk. You wanted an explanation for my behaviour, so better listen now that I am willing to give it.” He felt her start to shake and tried to get her to fix all her attention on him. 

“Dany, look at me.” With a long loving look he compelled her to calm down. She swallowed a few times and nodded, her purple eyes now returning the warmth of his dark grey orbs. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth and re-established contact cradling her small hands in his.

“Let me explain myself. There are many reasons why I have been holding you at arm’s length. First the obvious political ones I explained yesterday. Then there is the fact that we are related and that incestuous relationships have caused a few of our family members to succumb to madness. I would hate to inflict that fate on one of my children.” 

He sighed, made an effort to smoothen the frown that had appeared on his forehead and finished explaining his motives. 

“Last but not least, I need to use all my focus and energy to defeat a very dangerous and powerful enemy to the North and at the same time I cannot in good faith delay my bid for the Iron Throne. To do so would endanger my loyal allies and lessen our chances substantially. Many of them have dedicated years of their lives to my cause. I have a responsibility to these people and I need to do everything in my power to prevent bloodshed. I cannot allow myself to get distracted, Dany. I have a lot on my plate right now.”

He pulled back a bit. His concerned look met her teary eyes. The voice he used now would have to convince her that he really believed his own statements. 

“Therefore, I must put all personal plans on hold indefinitely. Before our uh _‘talk’_ yesterday, I did not think it fair to ask that much of you. You are of an age to marry.” He once more put his fingers tenderly on her mouth. His eyes beseeched her to let him continue.

“I still cannot promise you we will not have to marry other people for political reasons. But I vow to you here and now that I will do my utmost to prevent that from happening. The Gods are my witness, I will try every other option first before I will give in. But Dany, please understand that I cannot have the blood of thousands of innocents on my hands if a war breaks out because I selfishly refused to secure an alliance through marriage. I could never live a happy life after that. And I think neither could you.” 

Regret marred his features. Thoughts of the tragic relationship of his parents and its aftermath flittered through is mind. That was the reason it took him a while to fully take in her reaction to his words. 

Tears were flowing freely over her face. Jon pulled her closer again so her head could nestle itself against his chest. She hugged him desperately and he hugged her tightly in turn. He used both his arms to hold her in place. Suddenly he felt her stir in his arms.

She tilted her head upwards and looked at him her eyes shiny with tears but optimism shone brightly in them. “There is hope,” she reacted in a daze. 

Then with building excitement she added, “Aegon, you just told me there is hope! We only need to be patient and very smart. I can help. I will help! I will help you find ways to secure alliances. Please, let me help?”

Jon looked at her face that radiated love and excitement despite still being wet with tears. He disentangled one arm and gently reached out with his free hand and proceeded to wipe away the tears on her cheekbones with gentle strokes of his thumb. Softly cupping her chin, he turned her face up towards him even more. That way he could lose himself into her beautiful purple eyes. He did not need more words, those eyes revealed all that she felt and mirrored all that he felt, all that he thought. 

Her lips somehow came closer. It took him a moment to realise that he was the one that was slowly bending his head towards her. With her mouth so close that he could feel her little puffs of breath he couldn’t hold back any longer. He gently covered her lips with his own. I t was a sweet lingering moment that ended much too soon. 

When he withdrew, his lips crooked into the smallest of smiles as he watched the wonder in her eyes. He felt her sigh of contentment and knew somehow this beautiful woman had only now received her first kiss. 

Not able to resist, he pulled her closer to him and kissed her again. This time it was not a ghost of a kiss. This time, he touched her lips with soft, reverent passion. Putting a hand at either side of her face, he found her lips again and again with his own, his mouth moving over hers with ever-deepening pressure. Jon lost himself in her scent, in her willing mouth in the feel of her body that rested so willingly in his arms. He kissed her as if they were the only ones in the world and she existed just for him. 

And when his lips finally left her mouth, it was to worship the rest of her face with kisses, the tip of her nose, the delicate swell of her chin, her soft cheeks that were once more wet with tears, her warm loving eyes and her delicate forehead. He slowly released his hold on her chin and looked at her closed eyes and her body that was leaning a bit more towards his instinctively searching for his touch. 

“Dany, this is torture. We have to stop. You do not know what you are doing to me.” His stomach churned at how much his would miss this. 

When she tried to pull him closer to her, he resisted. “Dany, we should stop. We must not do this. It will make things that much harder afterwards.”

She held on to him almost desperately. “You said today, Aegon. You promised me today. Today we could talk about this. Let us have this one perfect day. Today we speak words of love and then we tuck them away and will perform our duty. We will, how did you put it? We will revisit this when things are settled. Kiss me today, Aegon. Please kiss me today.”

He didn’t resist when she took the initiative and tentatively touched his lips with her mouth. It wasn’t a desperate kiss as he had feared it would be. It started as a shy touch of her lips on his and even when she opened her mouth it only grew more intimate and still stayed sweet. Again he was the one to pull back. This time however his eyes that bore into hers spoke of devotion and passion. 

“You love me, Aegon. Tell me again that you love me. I don’t care if you can’t hold back. I don’t care about anything but having you close to me touching me, kissing me. We have today, Aegon. Perhaps we have tonight?”

“I love you Dany, like I have loved nothing else before in my life. I adore you. I always will, no matter was happens in the future. But we can’t continue. Not like this Dany, and certainly not tonight.” 

He gently pulled back a little to create some space between them. He took both of her hands in his to soften the blow of his refusal. His face had regained its serious expression.

“I will not be selfish. I have promised you the truth today and I have promised you to talk about it today. These kisses were not foreseen and are an unexpected blessing. We mustn’t let it go any further. We have to keep all options open. If I have you now, I won’t be able to give you up. If you only knew how much more difficult these few heavenly moments already have made it for me to stay rational and stick to the plan.” He exhaled slowly. 

“I can’t be selfish, Dany. I cannot, I will not let thousands die just to make two persons happy. I would not be able to be happy with you with such a thing on my conscience. Could you? We have to wait Dany. Wait and pray we will find a way to unite the Seven Kingdoms under the Targaryen banner without bloodshed and without sacrificing our personal freedom.”

A tortured look and a quick kiss with of his closed lips was all she received before he continued.

“There is also the issue of our kinship. We are both Targaryens, aunt and nephew. I hope my Stark blood gives us a fair chance but I will contact a greenseer first. If he sees madness in our future offspring, I will not marry you Dany, no matter our feelings. You know I need heirs to continue our house. More importantly I have to create a new generation with my blood. I require someone I can teach how to develop a bond with Rhaegal and Viserion. If I do not succeed in this endeavour, disaster may strike our Kingdoms after my death. The odds are against us, my love. So pray to the Gods to help us. I will do so too, fervently, every single day.” 

He looked at her small hands and kissed her palms one by one. Still holding on to her hands and with an almost frantic expression on his face, he beseeched her. 

“Don’t cry Dany. Concentrate of the positives. As you said, there is still hope. But now you must be strong and not tempt me further. We are going to walk back to the castle. It is a nice long walk from down here. We are going to calm down, walk arm in arm and behave as we have before this day. Not a word about this will be spoken between us.”

“Promise me that. Promise me you will still be able to be my best friend Dany, my confidante, the one who I can talk to as a dear member of my family and who will help me prepare for the challenges that lie ahead of me. Promise me you will wait patiently until we know what our fate will be. But most of all, promise me Dany that you will not tempt me, tempt us, promise me this upon all you hold dear.” 

His handsome face was twisted by emotion. This time it was she who caressed his cheeks. 

“I promise you Aegon. What you ask of me will be very hard, nigh on impossible really. But I will promise you to try if you hold me one last time. If you kiss me one more time as if there is no tomorrow. I want the sweetest, most loving kiss a man has ever bestowed on a woman. I want you to give me a moment so beautiful that it can last me a lifetime if necessary. I will burn this moment in my memory so that when I close my eyes, I can experience it over and over again until such a time that we can create new memories or that I am no longer.”

Both were crying when she stopped speaking. 

“Let us stand for this Dany. So I can take you in my arms in a better way, in a way I have often pictured myself doing.” 

He helped her get up from the bench and embraced her once more. With his hands on her lower back he gently brought their bodies closer. 

“Close your eyes and just as during our dragonride, imagine my warmth flowing into your body. Let my warmth mix with yours there and allow our combined heath to circle back and forth between our bodies. Close your eyes, love. Our magical moment is about to start. Close your eyes and feel our warmth, our energies mix. Feel my love flow into you.” 

He stopped talking and every so slowly kissed the corner of her mouth, she sighed in anticipation. He moved to the other side of her mouth and kissed that spot as well. Then he gave her small ghostlike kisses, their lips hardly touching. He felt her submit and follow his pace. He concentrated on her lower lip and worshiped it, only to release her mouth entirely and kiss the throbbing vein in her neck. Dany obliged him, bowing her head a bit backwards. 

“Such a pale soft skin. You are perfect Dany.” He kissed her ear and bit gently in the delicate lobe.  
“I am going to kiss you now. Take note if you want to remember.” 

He moved his head slightly and kissed her lips, urging her to open them. He slipped his tongue inside as soon as she obliged him and deepened the kiss. Instead of the innocent kisses of earlier he poured all his love and passion into this one. 

He felt she was struggling to breathe and released her mouth just long enough to whisper, ”breathe through your nose, your mouth is mine for now,” and resumed worshipping her mouth. 

Much later he slowly eased the intensity and his kisses grew sweeter, until the last one was nothing more than a soft, innocent touch of his lips just like the very first one he had given her today. He left her lips to kiss the corner of her mouth one last time and then drew his head back. He admired her red swollen lips, her eyes filled with passion, her body softly trembling in a trancelike state. 

They stayed glued to each other for a long time until Dany slowly came back to herself. He took one small hand in his and with a ghost of a smile on his lips he gently guided her toward the path that led to the castle. Neither of them spoke a word. Neither of them noticed the uneasy stare of Ser Barristan that followed them on their long walk back to the castle.

 

***

 

The next few days were hard for Dany. She had been lifted up to the heavens for a short moment and now she was firmly rooted to the ground the heavens far beyond her reach. When reading a book or performing small solitary chores, she often stopped to close her eyes and summon the memories of those magical moments in the small bay to convince herself that it had not been a dream. It had really happened. 

Aegon was nothing if not a man of his word. To her enormous frustration, he acted as if that day had never happened. He was the kind caring member of her house from before, from before their kisses, from before their heated argument on the cliff. 

When he sat at the meal table before she entered, he always rose and assisted her with her chair, asked her about her day, whether the food was to her liking and other small inanities. She had stopped counting how many times he had made a remark about the weather. She often saw Ser Barristan’s concerned looked trained upon her as well as on Aegon but the knight refrained from commenting.

One good thing had come from their honest discussions. She had been allowed to attend strategy meetings and had been awed by the number of issues they tackled in each meeting. She had a hard time keeping up, but Aegon helped her afterwards, answering her questions out of earshot of the others, slowly providing her the background for several decisions that during the meeting had seemed illogical to her. He told her not to worry. That the only reason it was this difficult for her now was because she had missed years of scheming. Nobody could really grasp what exactly happened in a story if one only heard the last part.

She often had to refrain herself from just falling into his arms and thanking him by kissing him senseless. Sometimes she could discern that he was touched by something she did or said but most of the time he kept himself well in check. She admired his strength but at the same time she still hoped for a moment of weakness. He had granted her the perfect moment she had asked for but it had only made her realise exactly what she was missing out on now. 

Why could they not be ordinary people, he a farmer she a farmer’s wife. No politics, no throne and if there was a mystical enemy in the north, it would not be their responsibility. They would never know it was there at all. They would farm their land, pay their rent and make love every night. 

After a hint from Aegon, she had started assisting Sam, who always seemed swamped with scrolls. She wrote the simpler messages and often volunteered to bring all sealed scrolls ready to send out to Maester Pylos and keep watch until the ravens were well on their way. That way they made sure Maester Pylos didn’t read their content. Aegon was still not sure of his allegiance. As long as the situation in the north was a priority and he could be called away to the Wall any moment, it was imperative nobody got wind of House Targaryen ruling Dragonstone again. He wanted to be sure they were safe on Dragonstone when he and his dragons were in the far North and could not defend his loyal followers on the island.

Every morning she watched his training sessions from a strategically placed window. Even though she knew nothing of the intricacies of swordplay or the normal levels of intensity such trainings demanded, she could still grasp that what she saw was out of the ordinary. She admired his elegance, his speed as she witnessed him fight off two skilled Kingsguards simultaneously. She might not know much about technique but she knew full well the reputations of the two knights he was fighting. Even after he had lifted heavy stones and had performed countless sprints, he still had enough energy left to hold his own against Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold who – as far as she could tell – didn’t hold back with their dulled training swords.

She had panicked the first time she had seen them swing at each other with metal swords using their full strength until Aegon had explained to her that the swords they used were dulled and he wore protective armour. The worst he suffered were a few bruises, and those, he had boasted, only happened the one or two times his opponents got past his defences. Ever since, she never tired of seeing him train and spent her mornings in that small room pretending to read a book near the window to make the most of the daylight.

 

During meetings, Aegon was a force to be reckoned with. He always had an endless list of topics to discuss. He patiently listened to all his advisors had to say but most of the time he provided a logical solution himself. His friend Sam was the only one able to keep up with him when he started to reason his way out of a problem out loud.

One time she had witnessed both of them throwing ideas at each other at such a speed. Each statement one of them uttered, building on a part of the idea the other had proposed, putting together a solution step by step to eventually and ending up with a complicated airtight answer to a difficult question. She had not been the only one who had watched on with growing amazement. 

The three Kingsguards had shaken their heads and let the two young men do their ‘brainstorming’. At least that was the word Ser Oswell had whispered in her ear when she had asked him quietly what they were doing. He had told her ‘brainstorming’ was a new term Sam had invented to describe their strange method of working out problems.

One of the topics Aegon had been relentless about was the fate of the families whose members had been contained when Ser Gerold had first landed on Dragonstone. That momentous day, when Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell backed by the well-trained crewmembers of ten of Jon’s ships had landed on Dragonstone, they had not encountered any resistance at first. 

When climbing the winding path that led to the castle they had been attacked by a small force of approximately twenty men that had desperately tried to fight off the superior numbers that sought entrance to the castle. Ser Gerold had been surprised at first. Crouched behind the low wall where the path made a high turn, the small Baratheon force had kept itself well-hidden. Two of Jon’s men had been injured during the short clash that followed. 

They had apprehended the attackers and locked them up in dark cells beneath the fortress. Upon receiving a raven from their Prince though, they had transferred the prisoners to modest quarters containing windows letting in sunlight and fresh air. These were some of the rooms usually reserved for servants. At this time the Baratheon supporters were still locked in there.  
Jon had not allowed for their prisoners to be mistreated. He had also forbidden his forces and the loyal smallfolk in the settlements to harass their families that lived on the island. 

He had argued to all that protested that these men were honourable men that had arrived with the Baratheon retinue but had stayed on the island because they had married into families already living here. He intended to speak to them and offer them a choice. Either they swore allegiance to him and became his loyal subjects or they returned to the Stormlands after things had settled and Jon had won his throne. 

For now he visited them once in a while to check if they were treated all right. Several claimed they had already made up their minds and preferred to swear allegiance to the Prince so they could rejoin their family members on Dragonstone as soon as they were allowed.

During the last meeting Daenerys attended, a case was brought forward of a farmer of Valyrian origin who had laid a hand on a woman and had threatened her two daughters, the women being defenceless because their husband and father was one of the men who had helped attack the Targaryen forces. Luckily the woman had only suffered some nasty bruises. 

Jon had let his guards arrest the culprit and to set an example he had imprisoned him for two moons in a similar room as the others. The man’s sons were ordered to help farm the victim’s family’s small patch of land for that same amount of time. He made sure regular patrols would keep an eye on the situation. 

With the authority of the Prince of Dragonstone, Jon personally spoke to all parties concerned and no similar incidents occurred. The man he had imprisoned temporarily almost prostrated himself before his Prince promising him he would be his most loyal subject from now on and would never go against his Prince’s edicts again even if he didn’t understand them. Jon had responded he could prove this by making himself useful during his forced stay in the fortress and help the servants care for the other prisoners.

 

Daenerys had never met anyone like Aegon before. Seeing him constantly these two sennights, finding new things to admire in him and not try to get him to lose his self-control, was hard. Still, she kept her promise. At first she had not understood why he wouldn’t take advantage of this precious respite here on Dragonstone. Why they could not cherish each other’s love before he had to fly off and face unimaginable dangers. Seeing him at work though, she started to understand what he had been trying to tell her. 

His quest for the Iron Throne was not just an act of revenge or a blind ambition of his. It was important for the realm. More than a million people’s lives would miss a chance at a better life if he failed. She had witnessed firsthand how quick his mind could work when he focussed it entirely on something. 

She began to realise that the solutions he brought to the table were not always instant ideas but things he had worked on hard alone or with Sam before presenting them to his small council. These meetings also showed her how complicated and dangerous things could potentially get, how many angles they needed to consider. 

Slowly she came to terms with the fact that she should not complicate his life further right now nor take away his concentration by moping or looking unhappy in his presence. The realm needed him. She could imagine no man more suited to rule the Seven Kingdoms than Aegon. He would work hard to create a better world for each of his subjects, no matter how lowly born. She once more made the resolution to help him and to do whatever he asked.

 

One morning Daenerys had been confronted with an empty training yard only to hear afterwards that Jon had left to visit the Driftmark and his foster-grandmother without breathing a word of it to her. She would have liked to meet Lady Celtigar, formerly of House Velaryon. Aegon could have easily taken her with him on Rhaegal. She was the only one he could have taken but he hadn’t asked. He had preferred to go alone. As she had done the previous days, she looked for things to keep her busy and prevent her from dwelling on everything she wanted but could not have … for now.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself she had looked for Sam and had asked him to tell her how his friendship with Aegon had come about. She also enquired after Sam’s background. Sam was friendly but kept to innocent subjects, not wanting to betray the confidence of his friend. 

Somehow she couldn’t fault the young man. Jon inspired that kind of loyalty in almost everyone. No complaint however small had reached her ears. If anything she had overheard the servants talking of how polite the Prince was towards them. How he thanked them for the smallest service and often fended for himself. How he greeted everyone he passed in a hallway and if he didn’t remember their names or hadn’t met them yet he would enquire after them when the occasion allowed for it. 

She stopped her daydreaming about her nephew and focussed on Sam. She had offered to help him study High Valyrian. It was easier to learn a language if you could speak it with someone instead of just getting your knowledge exclusively from books.

Even if she didn’t live her dream life with Aegon, her life had changed so much for the better already. She helped run part of the household, organised menus dealt with small incidents between the staff and handled other small matters that were best dealt with by a female hand. Managing all that and assisting and tutoring Sam hardly left her enough time for her earlier hobbies as reading and embroidering. Sometimes Aegon even gave her small research assignments. The days flew by and she was almost content. She felt useful and knew if she needed to write a letter to him this time, she would have lots of things to put in it.

Perhaps she would ask for Aegon’s permission to visit with his foster grandmother after he had left to deal with the situation at the Wall.

 

***

 

Jon’s last few days on Dragonstone had been busier than ever. He had spent his late afternoons, after meetings and before supper scouting the island with his dragons looking for the ingredients he needed for the potion Maester Aemon had taught him to make. 

At first, he had sent his dragons on their own with the assignment but it had not been easy for them to spot the tiny difference between the leaves of plants or the tiny brown mushrooms from up high. After visiting several secluded spots on the island, he had gathered enough of the green plant for one session. His dragons had flown him to a few places near a waterfall or creek where all kinds of mushrooms grew closely together. Unfortunately none of these fitted the detailed description of his great-great-uncle. 

His dreams however kept getting weirder even without the substance. Often small children featured prominently in his dreams. He couldn’t explain how or why but he was sure now that he was not their father. Possibly a grandfather or great-grandfather? 

Their adorable faces were a mixture of Valyrian and Northern features which made him apprehensive. The image of Dany possibly marrying another dark haired Northerner tortured him. He was glad Robb had red hair for that was a possibility he was sure he wouldn’t be able to live with. These annoyingly vague dreams only made him more desperate to find the elusive mushrooms and mix the potion. 

Another recurring dream that plagued him was Azor Ahai wielding his flaming sword that dripped with blood. He hoped this was no vision but only a way of his subconscious to release the fears that he supressed during the day. These dreams had reminded him that there was one more reason why it was dangerous for him to act on his love for Daenerys. If there was a chance that he really was this re-born version of Azor Ahai, he couldn’t take a wife yet. Certainly not one he loved with every fibre of his being. He would not endanger her.

He realised his time here was running out. One of these days the raven would come that summoned him back to the Wall and he would have to play his part, prophesy or not. Well perhaps his upcoming short trip to the Driftmark could bring a bit of solace. His dragons would visit the caves they grew up in and search that environment for the clusters of mushrooms he remembered vaguely from his youth. They would have plenty of time while he made his scheduled visits on the island.

When he returned to the castle from yet another fruitless search for the apparently rare mushroom, Ser Barristan greeted him at the gate and walked beside him to his room. Jon hated the fact that the loyal man could hardly look him in the eye. When he entered his quarters he turned toward the knight. 

“Ser Barristan, do you have a moment for me?” He saw the man hesitate.

“Of course, my Prince.” Ser Barristan answered eventually and entered the room. “Is something the matter?”

“Not really. I just thought that it would help if we said a few words and put the awkwardness behind us.” 

Ser Barristan stiffened. “I did not intend to offend you, my Prince.”

“You didn’t. I just wanted to reassure you that Daenerys and I are making the best of a difficult situation. We uh reached an understanding and support each other. There is no need for you to take her side. Her side is also my side.”  
Jon stopped talking, not sure what more he could say without embarrassing himself some more.”

“I did not, I was not, I mean, I feel for both of you, my Prince. I pray to the Gods each night that everything will work out for you and the Princess.”  
Ser Barristan looked straight at his Prince’s eye for more than a fleeting second for the first time in days.

“I thank you, Ser Barristan. So we’re good?” Jon looked relieved no further explanations were required.

“It is an honour to serve you, my Prince.” Ser Barristan bowed and left the room feeling a lot better. 

 

 

**Interlude 22: Of possible betrothals and headaches**

“My Lord Hand,” Lady Olenna greeted Lord Stark crisply when she entered the room where the Hand of the King usually held meetings and prepared his scrolls. “You made me climb a lot of stairs. I hope you have ample refreshments in this old fashioned tower of yours. I still do not see why you could not do me the courtesy of accepting my invitation for tea. The weather is lovely outside.” 

Lord Stark got up from the chair behind his ostentatious desk to greet her.  
“And many birds sing in the garden. I am sorry, Lady Tyrell. It couldn’t be helped. I decided privacy was more important than fresh air. Let me welcome you to the Tower of the Hand. Please do be seated. Of course I have seen to it that there is fresh lemon water and Arbor Gold at our disposal. Just let me know which you prefer.” 

He circled his desk and eyed the tough shrew Varys had told him Lady Olenna wa

_“Do not let yourself be fooled by her frail behaviour, her white hair and her gaunt thin hands, my Lord Hand,” Varys had warned him. “She is not called the ‘Queen of Thorns’ for nothing. She has been masterminding political intrigues even before you were a child being weaned at your mother’s breasts. “_

_“I know of her reputation, Lord Varys.” Ned had replied with exasperation. “I am not totally ignorant.”_

_“No one says you are.” Lord Varys had tried to placate him. “Please keep in mind that knowing it and experiencing it are two entirely different things. Be on your guard, my Lord or she will get you riled up in not time. And for the Gods’ sake, do not let her see your frustration or get on the defensive immediately as you did with me just now. I would not bode well for the rest of your dealings with her.”_

Ned schooled his face to hide his thoughts while he helped Lady Olenna arrange her chair and provided her with a cup still waiting for her to voice her drink of choice.

“I’ll start with a cup of lemon water to clench my thirst. But I’d like a cup of Arbor Gold right next to it. I’ll sip that for the splendid taste. In all the years I have lived, I have yet to find a region that produces sweeter wine than the Reach.” Her tone of voice made it clear she expected no comment to her statement.

Ned saw her observing his hands that presented her a second cup and poured the liquids. He had seen to it that there were no servants nearby. The closest living being was a Stark guard stationed in the hallway, one that he could trust implicitly. The others were stationed at the far end near the stairs. He kept his hands steady, keeping Lord Varys’ advice in mind. 

_“Whatever you do, do not show any weakness. Do not fidget, try not to sweat. Best dress lighter than usual. She will not respect you if she perceives you fear her.”_

“A piece of cake, my Lady?” He offered her a plate with several delicious looking pastries on it.

“Just put it down there and let us start this long overdue conversation, my Lord Hand. And do not insult me by stating that that could not be helped either.” She retorted rather impolitely and didn’t hide her impatience as she waved the plate away.

“Then I shall oblige you and will not bore you with the enumeration of all the matters of state that kept me rather busy, my Lady.” Ned took a seat at the small table facing her and made a show of giving her his full attention. 

“Don’t patronize me.” She warned him and pursed her lips.

Ned considered it a little victory that she was the first one to lose some of her composure. “

“And here I thought the honourable Ned Stark wouldn’t play games and would be a straightforward partner to discuss the Reach’s interests with. Have these few sennights in the capital already corrupted you, My Lord Hand? Are you afraid of saying to my face that you have been avoiding me?” She raised her shoulders as if to steel herself for his reaction.

“My Lady, is it really in your best interest to start this negotiation in such a controversial fashion. I had heard tell you are as pragmatic as you are intelligent. It is not a wise move to antagonise the Hand of the King now that he grants you his full attention. Perhaps you would like to tell me what it is that you have come here to discuss.” 

Varys had told him she would not shy away from bluntly stating her opinion if it was in her own interest but he couldn’t help but think she was not going about this as astute as her reputation had made him fear she would.

“How long will you keep my sons in that dreary North of yours? The heir belongs in Highgarden and Loras is not used to the cold. Descriptions of stuffed noses, watery eyes and ill-suited clothing make up for more than half of the content of his sparse messages.” She didn’t temper her plain-spoken behaviour even the slightest bit despite his warning.

“I am not holding your sons prisoner, Lady Tyrell. Willas Tyrell is a welcome visitor despite the fact that he showed up unannounced and without invitation. Of course he is free to leave anytime he chooses. Your other son, Loras will need permission of the King to return home. I am sure that I can use my influence with King Robert to grant him clemency in the near future. I just warn you not to rush his Grace or address your King personally. He is not happy with this sad business. Just as you have known the nature of your grandson, the King has always tolerated the preferences of his youngest brother as long as he was discreet. Somehow his Grace blames your grandson for making Prince Renly lose his sense of propriety.”

When Lady Olenna snorted with disbelief and looked unimpressed, Ned repressed the slight feeling of guilt for manipulating the truth and continued to intimidate her.

“Before the incident, his youngest brother had always been extremely guarded and circumspect when pursuing his _‘desires’,_ shall we say. Be glad your grandson is not rotting away in the black cells, which most likely is where he would have been still if not for my plea for leniency. You can’t convince me that you are not relieved that your proud name has not been the object of ridicule and derision these last few moons any more than it was.” 

Lady Olenna huffed and studied him with narrowed eyes. “So I am not to approach the King personally? Are you sure you are not taking advantage of this situation to prevent me from advocating the case of my granddaughter? His Grace is in search of a young and fertile wife, is he not? My Margaery is just what he needs. She is young, beautiful and the granddaughter of a lord Paramount. We can also provide the Crown with a substantial dowry.”

“I will not be the first to warn you that it is in bad taste to present the King with an official betrothal proposal when his marriage has not been formally annulled yet.” Lord Stark spoke with confidence.

She cocked her head and kept staring at him with her beady eyes.  
“Speaking of the annulment, why exactly has it not been granted yet? What is causing the delay? More political games, my Lord Hand?”

“These are private matters between the King and the Queen. I am afraid I cannot go into detail. Just know that the High Septon is consulting the Archmaesters at the Citadel. We will know more soon.”

She leaned forward so he could not avoid looking straight at her without being disrespectful.  
“Just tell me this, my Lord Hand. Is my granddaughter, lady Margaery on the shortlist of candidates to become his new Queen?”

“There is no shortlist yet. Of course she will be considered if that is really your wish. I had not planned to put her on it though. I want better for your granddaughter.” He was proud he hadn’t blinked once when he formulated his answer.

“Your son, I presume? Ha, you are not a good Hand at all. The honourable Ned Stark is pursuing his own agenda. Need I remind you that you are first and foremost Hand of the King and only second, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell? You are showing your hand, Lord Stark. You haven’t learned how to become a political strategist yet, have you? Varys warned me I should not talk to you but let him present my interests to the King instead.” 

She looked at him with disdain now.

“I won’t keep you from doing that. Just as I will vow to put Lady Margaery on the shortlist if that is your wish, Lady Tyrell. But just think about the consequences.”

He hid his glee at how she squirmed ever so slightly in her chair. Her defiant behaviour had lost some of its momentum. Time to bring out his most compelling argument Jon had asked him to use and Lord Varys’ well-placed rumours had laid the groundwork for. 

“Are you willing to squander her youth and condemn her to a life without children? Will you risk shortening her life considerably by possibly exposing her to a nasty disease? Just say the word and I’ll put her at the top of the list. But perhaps you should be kind and tell your grandchild what she can expect when she obeys and follows your blind ambitions. She will be the one who will spend her life with an infertile husband who drinks and whores. She will be the one whose life will be at risk if they are intimate.” 

Ned was sure the strategically placed rumours of the King’s infertility due to a hunting accident or the version of the whore’s disease he supposedly suffered from had reached her ears already and that they would make her uncertain.

“You are reaching, Lord Hand. If that is the case, the next heir to the throne would be Stannis Baratheon. That man won’t want you for his Hand no matter how much you might think otherwise.” Her mouth was pressed in a thin line when she awaited his reaction.

“King Robert may yet reign until I am grey and old, my Lady. Have you considered Lord Stannis Baratheon’s wife is rather ill? Perhaps now house Tyrell will consider sour Lord Stannis a better husband for your granddaughter. Maybe you should consider marrying him yourself? I am not good at guessing a lady’s number of celebrated namedays. Is it possible the age difference between you and him is smaller than between him and your granddaughter?” 

Ned couldn’t prevent venting a bit of his frustration with her stubborn ambitions.

“Come now, Lord Stark, no need to insult an old lady. I want what is best for my granddaughter. She was born to be queen. She is smart, beautiful and more capable than many a noble male. She just needs a bit more maturity and she could rule the Seven Kingdoms singlehandedly. I taught her you see?” Her voice had taken on a more persuasive tone.

“Then think long and hard about what is the best for that precious gem your granddaughter apparently is, Lady Tyrell. And do not forget who your enemies are and who aren’t. House Stark has had the best interest of the Reach in mind for many years now. I am sure you are kept informed of all of the past dealings between our Kingdoms and know very well what I am referring to.”

“Now you sound a lot like your son, my Lord Hand. I suppose it was upon your behest that he is manipulating my heir to declare House Stark a firm ally and propose marriage to your daughter Sansa?” She retorted sharply.

“We are not your enemy, Lady Olenna. You better not make the mistake to think House Stark keeps to the North and does not know what is going on in the Realm. I am aware of your endeavour to forge an alliance with the Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen in Pentos. I also know you are disappointed not to have received a reply yet. Perhaps it is for the best. She is not the owner of the rumoured dragon flying over the Narrow Sea.” Ned made an effort to keep his voice even.

“Sometimes it is in one’s interest to work with one’s enemies rather than constantly competing against them.” She paused as if trying to decide her next move. She cocked her head slightly when she tried to coax a reaction out of him. 

“So you admit to the rumours that the North knows to whom this dragon belongs? I could have sworn I heard somewhere that there were two full grown dragons not one and that there was a dragonrider with mixed blood and with a possible kinship to House Stark.”

“None of these rumours have been confirmed, Lady Tyrell. I am sure you have been briefed word for word about what transpired at Littlefinger’s trial.” He stayed calm. Now was not the time to disappoint Jon by going too far. 

He kept his voice neutral when he said “And calling a seventeen year old girl with a sheltered upbringing an enemy would imply you fear her.”

“So you deny it?” She asked him point blank.

“What if I told you that King Robert’s days of ruling are numbered, never mind the immediate cause?” 

“Then yours would be too.” She stated matter of fact but she remained very alert and kept track of his facial expression.

He steeled himself when he bluffed. “Are you certain of that, Lady Tyrell? You know of our efforts to befriend the Reach. It would not be too farfetched to believe we have been courting the goodwill of the other Lord Paramounts and Wardens as well and for as many years. The North has gained enormous influence and support the last decade or more. What if I told you that whatever happens, whichever King rules, I will always have his ear. And my House would only be second to the royal family.” 

He paused strategically to let his words sink in before continuing.

“Be very sure of your decision, Lady Tyrell. House Stark has contingency plans for every eventuality. I receive new requests to betroth my children every day. You are aiming too high and soon there will be no good options left for your precious granddaughter. The Lord of the Vale is just a child. Dorne will never accept a Tyrell as a suitable bride for any of their kin, Stannis has no sons, Lord EdmureTully will not marry someone without my consent I must warn you, so that leaves the currently fallen from favour Lord Tyrion Lannister as her best option when I take Robb Stark off the marriage market.”

“Whatever King rules? Even if he has dragons?” Her voice stayed firm but she had paled visibly.

“I do not speak lightly, my Lady, nor will I repeat myself.” Ned hoped she would not hear the fast beating of his heart and tried not to blink and return her stare with as much confidence as he could muster.

“No wonder you were not willing to hold this conversation in the gardens over tea! You are just another conniver, another traitor posing as the slightly naïve but oh so honourable Lord Eddard Stark. You are playing a dangerous game.” She accused him.

“The political games I have witnessed in the capital have taught me one important thing already, Lady Tyrell. If you play, you play to win. House Stark will prevail whatever happens in the Seven Kingdoms. In case you haven’t noticed the North has become a very powerful Kingdom in its own right. It would be in your best interest to stay on friendly terms with us.” 

He took a deep breath and gave his ultimatum. 

“You have one last sennight to consider the betrothal proposal between our houses before I withdraw it completely. Oh and please remember it is still contingent upon me meeting your granddaughter and approving her a suitable match for my most excellent son and heir to the North. Perhaps you could invite me to a garden tea party after all?” He kept his expression neutral even though it had not been easy.

When she didn’t respond immediately, he played his last trump card. 

“Even though lady Margaery might not carry the title of Queen, perhaps she can be a mother to one? That is, if her children are my grandchildren as well.” He had emphasised the right words and had spoken with a lot of conviction to imply he already had some sort of future agreement in place.” 

“I would only have your word for that since chances are that I won’t be around long enough to see that generation grow into adulthood.” She paused but her tone had lost some of its fighting spirit.

It gave Ned hope she was really contemplating Robb for her granddaughter. Her next words however were once again meant to antagonise him.

“I wonder why you are not considering the Princess Daenerys if you are so close to one of her blood?” 

Even though Ned was disappointed with her reaction, he saw right through her irrelevant question. Princess Daenerys of her own accord was no asset to the North, she was probably just trying to get him to reveal what he happened to know about this rumoured dragonrider. Most likely she was also just stalling for time or trying to rattle him. 

She might even be getting desperate by now because she had been unable to come up with a strategy to undermine his strong negotiating position. She wasn’t aware that he had been coached by the best. He had sat through several sessions before Lord Varys had judged him capable of taking on the Queen of Thornes. He had to prevent a smile from appearing on his face when he thought of the mock discussions they had held where Varys had played the formidable part of Lady Olenna. He evaded her question as he had been coached.

“That is beside the point. I thought we were discussing the future marriage of your granddaughter. If you forego my heir, perhaps your oldest grandson and heir to Highgarden might consider my eldest daughter?” he tried once more to get the conversation back on track.

“Rumours are she is promised to Domeric Bolton.” Lady Olenna was quick to retort.

“As you said, my Lady, rumours, mere rumours. My Sansa is not betrothed yet. No agreement exists between House Bolton and House Stark.”

“Not even between House Stark and House Dayne? My sons do write me sometimes, you know?” She still wouldn’t give an inch although her shoulders had dropped a bit.

“None of my children are betrothed yet.” Ned’s tone left no room for doubt. 

“And neither is the King.” She bit back.

Lord Stark didn’t move a muscle but in his imagination he grunted and rolled his eyes.  
“The King has not given the matter any thought yet. He will only entertain offers once his annulment is ratified by the High Septon. Not before.” 

“Mmmh, offers you say? So he WILL yield to the highest bidder. I heard Lord Frey offers the weight of his daughter of granddaughter of choice in gold if the King chooses a Frey bride.”  
Her gaze that had lost some intensity over the course of the conversation was attentive once more.

“I can’t help but notice we are talking in circles here, Lady Tyrell. I can only repeat to you once more that if you are seriously offering up your lovely granddaughter to Robert Baratheon, I will put her at the very top of the list. Just state what you offer the King as inducement.” He couldn’t help feeling a bit discouraged.

“I will discuss it with my son first. What about the dragons?” She tried once more to get him to betray something.

“What about them, my Lady?” He tried to stay polite taking heart in the fact that the conversation was winding down. This duel was almost over and he was still standing. 

They do say the dragonrider has the face of a Stark.” There was a curious gleam in her eyes now.

“Unconfirmed rumours. It is also rumoured that the dragonrider is a sellsword in the employ of the Golden Company. Many northerners live in exile in Essos. There is even an entire contingent of Northmen that left Westeros when King Torrhen decided to kneel to Aegon the Conqueror. Not all men with grey eyes and dark hair in the realm can claim that they are a distant kin of House Stark, my Lady. You will need to make your mind up without dragons in the equation. You have a sennight. Perhaps it is time to end this conversation.”

“Do not presume to tell me what I need to do, Lord Hand. But I will retire now. If you would be so kind as to call my houseguards to escort me down those treacherous steps?” 

She rose out of her chair with difficulty, her expression of dismay showing clearly that she was not satisfied with the outcome of their discussions.

Ned had not given an inch. He was sure she would not approach the King and would consider a betrothal between their houses very carefully before dismissing it offhand. He had successfully reached both goals of this meeting. 

Lady Olenna was de facto the head of House Tyrell and by extension of the Reach. She was not going to discuss anything with her son. That was just her way of stalling for time. She would make up her own mind and just tell poor Lord Mace Tyrell what she had decided. Varys had been right. She was an outspoken woman with high ambitions He wondered how long it would take her to make up her mind. 

“What are their names? I’ll ask the guards outside to call for them.” He wondered at the reason for the blush that appeared on her wrinkled cheeks. Little did he know that she didn’t trouble herself to remember the names of her twin guards and just called them ‘Left’ and ‘Right’. 

“Never mind. Your noble Stark guards I am sure will be most willing to help an old lady descend the stairs. I will manage.” She swept out of the room as fast as she could, momentarily forgetting to uphold her mummery of being old and frail.

“As you wish, my Lady.” Ned bowed politely and watched her leave the room. 

When the Stark guard closed the door to his quarters he sat back down with a relieved sigh. He prayed he had struck the right tone and had somehow gotten through to her. Only time would tell.

He went back to his desk and eyed the scrolls that were ordered by importance. There was the missive from Jon with nothing but good news from Dragonstone. The only thing worrying him was the delay caused by the retreat of the White Walkers to the far North. 

The missive from Robb was also reassuring. Apparently his younger brother was helping him deal with the more difficult issues. Robb was learning the hard way, but he would be a competent Lord of Winterfell all the sooner by it. His son implored him to write his impression of Lady Margaery Tyrell and perhaps even send him a little drawing of her if possible.

He sighed when he saw the neat scroll so painstakingly written by Lord Edric of House Dayne. Sansa, his precious daughter fancied herself in love. How had he not noticed that she was a woman grown, possibly even flowered already. He had to ask Catelyn about that. His wife’s last letter had hinted at an infatuation between the two young people but she had assured him she had handled it and had successfully warned both of them away from each other. She had even described how they had obviously quarrelled and were avoiding each other.

Well, apparently the heir of Starfall had not been deterred for long. He looked at the carefully crafted sentences where the young suitor praised Starfall as a thriving stronghold and House Dayne as a renowned noble House. He hinted at a possible future title as Sword of the Morning and last but not least at his friendship with a powerful ally, Jon _Celtigar._

By the way Jon’s last name was written in a crooked fashion, the young man made it clear that he knew this was his greatest trump card. Ned sighed. He would at least have to inform Jon about this request before formulating his negative response to the young man. 

He felt a head ache coming on. Probably caused by the strain of his conversation with lady Olenna but Edric Dayne’s request didn’t help matters. He had this standard reply he sent out to everyone who petitioned for a betrothal with Sansa but he knew better than to just send that to the young Lord. He only wondered if Jon would let him decide the outcome of this delicate matter for himself. He would have a problem with it if his nephew didn’t.

Finally his eye fell on the list he was trying to put together for King Robert. Varys had done a great job stalling the annulment but that didn’t deter the King from enquiring about the number of viable candidates every time they saw each other. Ned grabbed the scrolls containing the newly arrived offers and added the names of maidens and promised dowries to the large scroll one by one before putting the original petitions into the top drawer of his imposing desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon meets Varys. He struggles with his ever growing feelings for Dany and takes a risk.  
> In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Bran being fostered by Howland Reed.


	23. Risk assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets Varys. He struggles with his growing feelings for Dany and takes a risk.  
> In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Bran being fostered by Howland Reed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the help of my inspiring beta Ravenousreadr, I worked hard to give you another chapter of this story. Enjoy!

***

Jon had indeed flown solo to the Driftmark. He hadn’t asked Dany along because it was not a mere social call to his foster grandmother. He had scheduled a secret meeting with Lord Varys as well. Besides he could do without her distracting presence for a while. It would free up some of his energy to concentrate on the matters he wanted to discuss with Varys. 

Every night he went to bed drained by the effort of keeping up the pretence of just being her friend and considerate next of kin. Every morning he attended a gruesome training session to tire himself out physically in an effort to keep his body from reacting too enthusiastically when Dany greeted him at lunch where they usually saw each other for the first time. He didn’t know how long he could keep up with this. 

The only upside was that he was exhausted in the evenings and slept very deep. He didn’t remember any dreams come morning. He could also feel the muscles in his arms and legs grow thicker and stronger. Ser Gerold was once more proving his worth. The routines he put Jon through were varied enough to keep him motivated and at the same time garnered the wanted results. This morning was the first day he had skipped his morning training to spend the entire day at the Driftmark.

He had postponed telling her about this short trip because he hated to disappoint her should she ask to come along. He had intended to say goodbye to her moments before he left but Ser Barristan was the only one who answered his request for her presence when he came to the cliff to tell him the Princess had slept later than usual. Jon doubted that was the case though since Ser Barristan avoided his questioning look. He had flown off casting a look in the direction of her windows but hadn’t been able to discern if she was watching him fly away. 

He worried that she would be as isolated on Dragonstone as she had been on Pentos when he left to fight the dead beyond the Wall. Her Septa didn’t seem like the most entertaining companion. She looked more like a religious ornament to the room than a real flesh and blood person. The few times Jon had seen her, she had hardly spoken five words to him beyond the formal greeting. A neutral mask seemed plastered on her face at all times. Jon hesitated to interfere in that part of Dany’s life though. Once more he cursed the fact that his upbringing had been predominantly in male company. It had not given him enough insight in a noble woman’s daily life and needs.

He left his dragons at the cave where they had spent several years and enjoyed the long walk to the settlement. The weather was nice although the wind blew rather strong from the east. He had his dark hair pulled into a knot to keep the wind from blowing his curls in his face. By the time he neared the settlement, his mind was relaxed and he felt ready to tackle the tasks he had set himself for today.

He greeted Jekken when he passed the little workshop. The man dropped what he was doing to make a low bow to Jon.

“My Prince,” he murmured reverently.

Jon hid his sigh from Jekken. The news of his new status as ruling Prince of Dragonstone was common knowledge at the Driftmark. His dragonride with Dany almost two sennight before had only confirmed what they had found out as soon as Ser Gerold and his forces had landed at the Driftmark before making their move on Dragonstone. Many had suspected for years that he was not just friendly Jon Celtigar growing up amongst them.

“Good morning, Jekken. How is business these days?” He tried to deal with the man as he had always done before.

“Better than ever, my Prince! People from Dragonstone are coming here to visit the settlement where their Prince grew up and trained his dragons. I have been making small souvenirs.” 

The man pointed at metal images of dragons. A few of them even had a tiny rider on them.  
Jon touched one with his fingers that looked remarkably like Rhaegal. He frowned but softened his features when he saw the blacksmith’s apprehensive look in response to his reaction.

“I hope you approve, my Prince. Have I displeased you? I admit that I boasted you were a regular customer and almost a friend. But I meant no harm. I do not charge much more than what it costs to make them and I ask them not to show these figurines to anyone on the mainland before, uh, you know.” 

The man was wringing his hands now, clearly frightened that he had overstepped.

“Please do not worry, Jekken. You did nothing wrong. Not if you sell to people from Dragonstone. That is not the reason I was frowning. I was just wondering how you got the metal to get that greenish hue.” Jon explained giving him a reassuring look.

“I made them using a metal called bronze. It is not as strong as the metal I use to create weapons and I stopped making household tools with it because they can turn green when exposed to moist environments and us being on an island, well, uh, you know.” 

The man was clearly not used to making long speeches. He handed a bronze miniature version of Rhaegal to his Prince and looked at him with pleading eyes. 

“This is the first real profit I have been able to make from that material in ages, my Prince. People are delighted by the green colour of these little objects now instead of complaining and asking their coin back when a cup turns green.”

“Well, then I can only congratulate you on coming up with this idea. How much do you charge for this one? I want to buy it as a present for the Princess Daenerys.” Jon smiled attempting once more to soothe the man’s nerves.

“Lovely lady, if I am allowed to say so, my Prince. I saw her when you flew low over the beach the other day. She has the Valyrian look all right. Are her eyes purple as well? You were still too high up so I couldn’t tell.” The blacksmith’s face had lightened up the moment he heard Jon mention the Princess.

“They are, Jekken. They are the most beautiful purple eyes I have ever seen.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing when he realised what he had just told the blacksmith. 

He cleared his throat. “How much do I owe you, Jekken?”

“Oh no, my Prince. No charge for you. Just give the Princess my compliments and tell her we all would like for her to come visit us when things settle down.” 

The blacksmith took the trinket from Jon’ hands and wrapped it in a piece of cloth. “Here you go, my Prince.”

“Then I thank you very much. I will bring her one day. And I promise to introduce you to her so you can show her around in your shop. I must leave you now though. My foster grandmother will be expecting me.” 

Jon put the small package in his pocket and left a very happy blacksmith who watched his Prince walk with determined strides to the small building. 

_‘The most beautiful purple eyes’,_ the man thought, _‘Targaryens really have a thing for one another.’_

 

***

 

The visits with his foster grandmother always went almost identically to the previous ones. She would greet him warmly and enquire after his health. Then they would share a simple meal and afterwards she would ask if he was King already and if not when he planned to be. This time she was fairly satisfied when he told her he was making progress and was officially inaugurated as Prince of Dragonstone. 

Her next question inevitably was whether he was finally betrothed. A negative answer always made her enquire after the lovely Princess Daenerys and if she had found another husband yet because her blind oaf of a grandson couldn’t make up his mind. 

He always distracted her at that point by reaching for her box with letters and the rest of the visit he read out loud to her, mostly from a selection of Wylla’s letters. After all these years, his former wet nurse still wrote faithfully to her. 

This time she requested him to read some of his own letters out loud to her. Letters he had written when he was still rather young his first years at Greywater Watch. Jon was a bit embarrassed to read the childish things he had written back then although some brought back some half-forgotten happy memories of his childhood. Besides he didn’t mind doing her that favour knowing full well her deteriorating eyesight made it impossible to read them herself and the elderly widow that kept her company in the afternoons wasn’t allowed to touch the cherished letters of her grandson. 

They spent half of the day together and had a lovely time reminiscing. Once more she declined when he asked her if she wanted to visit Dragonstone or even wished to live there with him now. “You don’t move an old tree either,” she had answered her mind firmly made up.

 

***

 

He walked the small distance to the tavern where Varys would probably already be waiting for him. The visit to his grandmother had lasted a little longer than originally planned. When he turned the corner and spotted the town square, he stopped in his tracks. It seemed the entire settlement and everyone else they had been able to reach in time had gathered there to catch a glimpse of their very own Prince. 

Jon smiled shyly, a bit at a loss for how to deal with this situation. Then he saw the owner of the tavern hurrying over to him.

“My Prince,” the man bowed low. “I placed my wagon right over there. If you climb on it everyone will be able to see you a bit better. Think of the smaller children standing at the back of the crowd. Perhaps you would be willing to oblige us with a small speech?” 

Jon thanked the man and asked him to inform his guest that he would be somewhat delayed. It would indeed be ungrateful to leave these people without giving them a bit of his attention. 

“Do not worry, my Prince. He knows. The entire settlement has been alerted to your presence. We all helped Jekken spread the word so we could give you the welcome you are due. Your guest helped as well. Apparently he has a lot of contacts here at our small island.”

When Jon didn’t offer an immediate reply the man was happy enough to continue his servile ramblings. “A most curious fellow, I must tell you. He didn’t offer his name but I think I know who he is, my Prince. Just as we have always had strong suspicions that you were more than a simple Lord, if you excuse my saying so, my Prince.” 

The man made another low bow. Jon had willed himself to stay patient and hear the man out but was glad he finally left after receiving a benign nod from ‘his Prince’. 

A moon and a half earlier he had spoken to a lot of the locals when he stayed here for two days to pick up the dragonglass. But just as he had noticed on Dragonstone, the fact that he was now officially the ruling Prince of Dragonstone and had been confirmed as the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and rightful heir to the Iron Throne made an enormous difference to his loyal following on these two islands. 

Jon wasted no more time and climbed the wagon. The crowd cheered loudly when he took the time to wave and smile in every direction. He made a short speech thanking them for accepting him in their midst during his younger years. He would never forget the kindness they had shown simple Jon Celtigar. He repeated that the Driftmark would always feel a little bit like home to him and vowed to always keep their interests at heart. 

As expected, loud cheers erupted once more. When he was sure they had calmed down enough to hear him once more he promised to visit with Princess Daenerys at his side somewhere in the near future. 

As soon as he had finished, his short speech was received with even more benevolence and genuine warmth than the one he had held in the throne room of Dragonstone. The cheers and well wishes from the crowd didn’t let up. 

Not wanting to make Lord Varys wait longer than necessary, Jon decided to climb off the wagon. He was glad the crowd respected his personal space and only a few children approached him to hand him some hastily fashioned drawing or a modest bouquet of wildflowers. He accepted all the offerings thanking them warmly, waved with the hand holding the flowers one last time and quickly entered the tavern where the owner intercepted him in the doorway. 

Instead of leading him to the large public room, the man opened a door to his left that led to a small space. Jon figured it was a private room used as a kind of study where the owner kept his business papers. It contained a desk a cupboard and two chairs near a tiny fire place. One chair was already occupied when Jon entered and ordered a pint of ale for himself and a refill for his guest. 

He put the small bouquet of flowers and the few drawings on the small desk. Only then did he bestow his attention upon the Master of Whisperers. 

Both men had to adjust their mental image of the other. Jon had not expected the man who had secretly but very efficiently supported him all these years to look so effeminate. The man wore rich silks and velvets, soft colourful slippers adorned his feet and he smelled like a woman. 

He hid his surprise by immediately offering a greeting. “Well met, Lord Varys.” 

“My King,” his guest bowed, “I would kneel but am afraid I wouldn’t be able to get up without embarrassing myself and needing assistance. Please do not doubt that I am your most devoted subject.”

“I thank you, Lord Varys. Uncle Ned repeatedly told me as much. I also read the reports you regularly sent to me. I can only begin to imagine how much time and effort you have put into hiding my existence from the Baratheon King and his allies. I do not doubt your loyalty. I am very grateful to have your support and hope that I may continue to count on it for many years to come. Our meeting has been long overdue. It is my honour to finally make your acquaintance, my Lord.”

“I can only echo your last words, my King. I was honoured to receive your request for this meeting. A highly necessary one, I might add. You are wise beyond your years, my young King.”

They halted their conversation when the owner himself entered the small room with a large pint of ale for Jon and pitcher of wine to refill Varys’ cup at his own leisure. He put everything on a small stool that he had brought along with him to act as a makeshift table.

“I hope the ale will be to your liking My Prince.” The man bowed when Jon nodded his thanks and left the room closing the door once more behind him.

Jon held his pint in the air to make a silent toast. Lord Varys mimicked his gesture and both men drank deeply. 

“Giving a speech can be thirsty work, my King. It was a wonderful experience to witness your popularity with my own eyes.” He put his cup next to Jon’s large pint. 

Jon studied Lord Varys a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead. 

“I am glad you agreed to meet me on such short notice, but I didn’t ask for you to come all this way just to have another person flatter me, Lord Varys. I have asked you here to hear your uncensored reports and advice. I want a realistic appraisal of the political situation in King’s Landing and news from the rest of the realm as well if you have the necessary intelligence. Written reports are always kept concise. Words need to be carefully considered and do not offer one the opportunity to exchange unfinished ideas or statements. I figured talking face to face would help both of us obtain a fresh perspective. Besides, it is easier to understand what a person is trying to convey if you know of his disposition, his personality.”

“My King?”

“I’m sorry if I am not expressing myself clearly. Perhaps an example might work. If Sandor Clegane tells me there is a fucking issue but I do not need to move my nice ass because he will fucking deal with it, I know the matter needs no further thought. The reason for that is that I trust his outspokenness. He will not spare me and tell me to my face without hesitation or restraint that I need to deal with something or that I ‘fucked’ up. He only does that if that is really the case. Please excuse me for the crude language.”

“No apology needed, my King. Please continue.”

“If Ser Davos comes to me and tells me respectfully there is a small issue that he hesitates to trouble me with, I immediately become worried. From him that means that there is something rather important going on and he has to admit he isn’t sure his solution will be efficient enough and the issue will require my full attention belying the initial impression his words would give someone who isn’t familiar with Ser Davos’ turn of phrase.”

“I see, my King. And now you want to study me to find out if I am truthful when I flatter you or what I mean exactly when I use terms such as minor issue, a standard problem or a major disaster?”

“Kind of. As Master of Whisperers you are certainly aware that written words reveal less than spoken ones. A person’s tone of voice, his entire demeanour can be very revealing.”

Jon paused and cocked his head a little, a twinkle in his eyes. “Although in your case, I have been warned that you use a sing song voice and act somewhat obsequious to hide the true meaning behind your words and deeds.”

“I try to confuse my enemies, my King. I hope I will never have to use these tricks on you.” Varys answered staying very serious.

“If ever you think you need to, I want you to contact me and voice your concerns. I have the welfare of the people in mind, just as you do. I have revealed enough of my ambitions to make you understand that our interests are aligned. But just as Sandor Clegane does, I expect you to call me on it if you ever think I am losing sight of our goals.”

“A most commendable attitude, my King.”

“I thought I already asked you to refrain from flattering me, Lord Varys. And please, call me ‘my Prince’ if you insist on using a title to address me. I am no King yet. For now I am just the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Then I’ll keep my thoughts on your excellent worth to myself for now, my Prince.” Varys obliged the young man who was so different to what he had expected. 

“Still it needs to be said that I admire your strategy, your goals and certainly your caution and restraint. But no more on that subject, I am glad you summoned me. It is long overdue we had this talk. I wished to talk to the man in charge very badly. I need to establish once and for all how I am allowed to comport myself when dealing with the Hand of King Robert.”

Jon frown made Varys pause. Jon had to urge him on. “Please continue Lord Varys. I am interested to hear what your issue with my uncle is exactly.”

“At King Robert’s court Lord Stark is my superior and I need to defer to him in all matters. It is different when we are advancing your cause. He and I are equals in our dealings then and second to you. I already have had to intervene when Lord Stark makes, or is about to make mistakes. I wanted to get your _‘stamp of approval’_ shall we say to go against your uncle going as far as to sabotage him openly or behind his back if absolutely necessary.”

Jon didn’t reply immediately. He sometimes struggled to find the right balance when dealing with his uncle as well. The man was honourable, a good leader but sometimes his strict code of conduct blinded him to the harsh reality and possible dangerous consequences when faced with opponents that did not adhere to the same noble standards. He had a great admiration for Lord Stark however and owed him his life, his current position and the bulk of his assets. 

He masked the fact that he was searching for words by sipping from his ale. He lowered his pint and looked at Lord Varys.  
“I have the greatest respect for my uncle. He is honourable to a fault and means well. His honour however compels him to think and act a bit too rigid at times and he might overlook the long term effects of his actions.” 

He put the large cup on the makeshift table and leaned a bit closer to Lord Varys to lend extra meaning to his words. “

“Everyone needs help or a guiding hand to look at all the angles, to keep the right perspective of things, Lord Varys. I myself must admit I greatly miss my Hand and some other loyal advisers that are not on Dragonstone right now.” 

Jon sighed, sat back and thought of how much he wanted to talk to Davos and Uncle Benjen about his dilemma with Dany. He needed their fatherly advice more than hearing about the political repercussions of the matter. He startled when a discreet cough of Lord Varys brought him back to the present.

“My apologies, Lord Varys. My thoughts were on a matter I need to discuss with Davos Seaworth who is currently unavailable being at sea for a few sennights. To get back to the subject of my uncle, might I ask you to bear in mind that Lord Stark has been thrown into a strange environment and is dealing with it as best as he can. He needs reliable advisers to help him. I trust you to strike the right balance and advise Lord Stark as much as possible.”

Jon’s tone was resolute when he granted the requested authority to Varys. “If he ignores you, is about to make a major mistake and there is no time to confer with me, of course I trust you to handle it and even _‘sabotage’_ him, but always try to do so with respect and explain to my uncle why you did it when the opportunity presents itself.”

Jon noticed Vary’s small nod of acknowledgement and suddenly felt the urge to defend his uncle.  
“Lord Stark is not an unreasonable man. I have experienced firsthand how he was able to admit a mistake to a boy less than half his age and rectified his behaviour on the spot. My uncle is a good man and will always try to do what is right. It is our job to make him see what is right and what hurts our cause.” He added diplomatically. 

“I repeat once more, Lord Varys, even though I have only met you in person today, years of witnessing the positive results of your help be it by stopping or manipulating rumours or thwarting our enemies, have made me trust you implicitly.”

Lord Varys bowed his head in thanks. “And I vow here and now never to betray your trust, my Prince, my future King. I will count the days until I am allowed to call you ‘my King’, or ‘your Grace’.”

“Thank you. Aside from the topic we discussed, I trust my uncle is well?”

“Lord Stark is well enough. He envied my coming here. He would very much like to see you again. Oh, before I forget, he asked me to give you the sapling of a weirwood tree he brought from Winterfell at your request. It is still at the docks. It will be loaded on a small fishing boat that is scheduled to leave for Dragonstone tomorrow at first light.”

“Thank you, Lord Varys. That is welcome news. I miss the quiet sanctuary of a Godswood.” 

He quickly staved off Lord Varys’ remark by adding, “Don’t worry, I am well acquainted with the Seven Pointed Star and will respect its followers and take an active part in all necessary ceremonies expected of me if I become the King of the Seven Kingdoms.” The faintest of smiles came to Jon’s lips.

“When, my Prince. When not if.” Lord Varys replied with a ghost of a smile of his own.

Jon bowed his head demurely in acknowledgment of that statement.  
“I believe we were on the subject of my uncle though? You were about to tell me how he was doing?”

“That is correct, my Prince. Forgive me for getting off topic. For now our Lord Hand is doing his best to keep King Robert distracted with minor matters. Normal life in the capital has resumed now that all the turmoil that Littlefinger’s trial and execution have caused is behind us. When the smallfolk get excited, somehow bar fights and riots in the street become more frequent and more violent. But the King still insisted on staging a big show on the steps before the Sept of Bailor.”

“The execution went smoothly? I mean uh” Jon stammered not wanting Lord Varys to think he was greedily asking for a bloody tale. “What I meant to ask was if he didn’t cause another scandal when he was given the opportunity to speak his last words?” 

Lord Varys didn’t react to the slight discomfort of the young Prince and answered as sedate as was he wont.

“I understand your question. Your uncle and I had the very same concern, my Prince. In the end, I must concede that Petyr Baelish met his fate with dignity. When he was offered the chance to speak some last words, he uttered a prayer for his soul and his legacy. No bitter outburst, nor shrieks about dragons. We we’re all relieved when that moment had come and gone.”

Jon nodded and mentally classified that issue as handled for good. His mind was already sorting through his other issues. Varys’ presence here was proof Uncle Ned was not that far away. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to discuss Edric’s wishes with his uncle in person. He spoke up. 

“Do you think it might be possible that I visit the capital incognito as Lord Celtigar and meet with my uncle somewhere out of sight? There is a rather personal matter I want to discuss with him and I could use that opportunity to talk to him about his dealings with King Robert myself.” 

“I do not think that is wise, my Prince. Anyone who sees you and Lord Stark together might get suspicious. And now that I see how much you resemble your uncle, I understand the existence of these rumours a bit better. Lord Baelish’s words at his trial about the dragonrider being a son of Brandon Stark have not been forgotten. If you really want to talk to your uncle, perhaps we should let the Hand of the King make a small trip? I do not know how soon this can be arranged without making anyone suspicious though.”

Jon was already rethinking the matter and would wait for Davos’ arrival before making that decision. 

“Can you describe to me how relations are between the King and my uncle?” Jon asked glad to finally hear another perspective.

“They are rather cordial, I am afraid. The King is still mostly on his best behaviour even if he has taken up whoring again as well as consuming wine. Just not in the excessive quantities he drank before. I take heart in the fact that his newly found resolutions are weakening.”

“How long do we have before he seeks a new betrothal?”

“He is already seeking one, my Prince. The better question is: how long can we thwart him? I have convinced the High Septon that annulling a King’s marriage is a delicate thing and should be watertight. I have asked him to consult with the Citadel and have the annulment papers signed by several Archmaesters just to make sure nobody can discredit the document.” 

Varys winked at the Targaryen Prince. “Of course my little birds have delayed the message a bit and have sown a slight discord between the Archmaesters delaying the annulment as long as remains plausible. In case you were wondering, the main argument of the Maesters opposing the annulment is that they have only the King’s and the former Queen’s word that she has this hereditary disease and that her children are likewise afflicted. No Maester has been allowed to examine any of the persons involved so there is no real proof. They are being asked to make this far reaching decision solely on the testimony of the King, a King who is not impartial to the outcome of the matter.”

“How many suitable brides have already flocked to the capital? Have you done anything to delay them and their demands?” 

Jon was curious to hear how creative Varys would be when dealing with young members of the opposite sex. The man might be efficient, his peculiar outlook and sing song voice made it difficult for Jon to remain convinced he had a highly competent man sitting in front of him. Perhaps that was part of his success though, making his enemies underestimate him.

“The most prominent candidate is Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. I have sent an invitation to Princess Arianne of House Martell but I am not at all certain that House Martell will set one foot closer to the capital than they absolutely have to, except for Prince Oberyn of course. But female attendance at court has certainly increased. Every noble Lord who has a daughter of an acceptable age to marry the King is here or travelling to King’s Landing.” 

Jon thought he almost saw Varys roll his eyes. He quickly focussed back on the man’s words.

“The small council however has convinced the King it is bad manners to openly look for a new wife when still married. Their opinion is that secret negotiations are also not to be undertaken yet, since nothing stays a secret in the Capital for long and the King should avoid creating a scandal. All words of the small council of course.” Again Lord Varys winked.

“I have also been successful in distracting the King somewhat. He won’t be asking for a progress report twice a day anymore. I found a suitable whore who is on her way to become his only bed partner. She has him convinced that she loves him and that it hurts her when he seeks satisfaction with other whores. For the moment the King is somewhat under her spell. He will still want to marry a highborn Lady and sire an heir, but he is no longer that upset with a delay of several moons.” Varys’ lips only twitched at first but the smile broke on his face when Jon chuckled.

“Between you and Prince Oberyn, I do not know who would get the trophy for best schemer.” Jon’s smile widened.

“Oh, there are still a few other candidates for that title, I am sure. But to get back to the matter at hand, the Tyrells have not made overtures. In fact, Mace Tyrell has been talking to Lord Stark about terms for a betrothal between Robb Stark and his daughter Margaery. It could be nothing more than a distraction. Lady Olenna plays the game as no other. But it could also be that the rumours we have spread about the King no longer being able to sire children and the convenient existence of grown up male bastards has made her think twice.”

“Which rumour did you spread, the hunting accident or the sexual disease?” Jon was curious to see which of his suggestions had been used.

“Both rumours of course and they are spreading fast. As usually is the case, the person concerned is shielded from them and has not the slightest clue. Nobody dares confront the King.” Varys stated matter of fact but an approving look was directed at the young man in front of him.  
“That was an excellent suggestion, my Prince.”

“I try.” Jon said in a dry tone and both men laughed.

“That you do, my Prince. Word about you may not have reached the capital yet, but it has reached my ears. Word about your treatment of the smallfolk everywhere you go but more specifically word of your treatment of the Baratheon loyalists locked up in Dragonstone. Allow me to say that I am most impressed.”

Jon looked a bit flustered and changed the topic. “How long do you think we can conceal the news of the Targaryen occupation of Dragonstone and the Driftmark from King Robert?” Jon asked.

“All will depend on the loyalty of the inhabitants on both Dragonstone and the Driftmark.”

When Jon wanted to intervene, Varys waved his hand. 

“I know the people there are loyal to you. But I also know from experience it only takes one disgruntled person, one greedy man, woman or child. Rumours and loyalties are a fickle thing, my Prince. It is impossible to answer that question. My advice to you is not to wait too long. However, if you decide on a timeline, give me fair warning. I might have to speed up discrediting King Robert in the eyes of the smallfolk if need be.”

“I suppose I do not want to know?” Jon asked a bit uncomfortable, giving him a brief look before averting his eyes.

“Better not, my Prince. It will make everyone’s reaction the more genuine for it.” Varys replied.  
“The King has asked questions about the increased number of ships that have been spotted sailing towards both islands. I have been spinning tales to divert his attention, but King Robert is not a fool, when he is sober, that is.”

“How is the list of Targaryen loyalists in the capital and the Crownlands coming along? Will I be able to count on some support from the noble houses?”

“It is growing a bit larger almost every day. Ser Gerold’s and Ser Oswell’s input has been invaluable in this regard. But it is slow going. We need to tread carefully when we approach possible new allies. One word to the wrong person and your cause is exposed and our life in danger.”

The Masters of Whisperers continued his report when he saw his Prince’s acknowledging nod.  
“Lord Stark and I are working very hard to put together a force that can gather around you the moment you step into King’s Landing to stake your claim. Lord Stark has his extensive houseguard he brought with him when he travelled south to replace the Lannister guards and in the city small groups of allies from the Riverlands and the North have been arriving. We are doing everything we can to be ready soon. We have used the pretext of nobles bringing their sisters, daughters or granddaughters to the capital several times already.”

“How do you think the smallfolk will react to my claim? Will they view me as a needed change, a welcome return of the rightful ruler or will they perceive me as a threat, as a usurper? Perhaps it is prudent to spread vague rumours of my deeds throughout Fleabottom and other populated areas?”

Varys looked away. The man was clearly embarrassed. “I am sorry, my Prince. I might have been remiss in not telling you but I did not think it was constructive to give you the latest status of the rumours regarding the dragonrider.”

Jon eyed him speculatively wondering what could be this bad that Varys would not volunteer the information. “I would rather like to know, Lord Varys. That way I can come prepared and will not be taken by surprise and perhaps unable to efficiently hide my disappointment. Tell me. I reckon it is not good news?” His tone made it clear he all but ordered Varys to speak.

“It is not, my Prince. I am trying to counter them but without revealing all and alerting King Robert to your existence, there is little I can achieve it seems. Someone is spreading rumours about terrifying dragons breathing fire and burning through people and ships as if it is nothing. As things are standing now, the smallfolk will panic at the first sight of a dragon. I am a bit at a loss.”

“Someone? Any idea who?” Jon asked taken aback.

“Only guesses. Nothing concrete. I feel as if I am failing you, my Prince.” Varys’ no longer kept his head down though. Jon could almost hear the man think his way to a possible solution.

“There is still time to turn the tide. I will think on it.” Jon’s voice sounded firm. This was not his biggest problem anyway. “Perhaps a delegation from Dragonstone and the Driftmark should visit King’s Landing and tell their version of the story as soon as I arrive. Between the two of us and my advisers, we will come up with other countermeasures.” Jon elected not to stress once more that he wanted to be kept appraised of such things. He was certain Lord Varys had gotten the message loud and clear and would not make the same mistake twice.

“For now we will double our efforts to smuggle enough men in the capital to act as your protection detail.” Apparently Lord Varys had already bounced back and was thinking constructively. The man was a useful asset. Once more Jon was grateful that for some reason the Master of Whisperers had chosen to support his side all those years ago.

“Do not forget I have an entire fleet with thousands of men at my disposal. There are several possibilities. I want every angle covered and no bloodshed if at all possible. But concrete plans will have to wait. I would like for my Hand to be here and it is possible I will have to deal with the situation beyond the Wall first.”

“We will be ready, my Prince. I am just uncomfortable about the absence of news from the Stormlands.” Lord Varys fidgeted with his hands, the only outward sign of his discomfort.”

“We have not heard back from Lord Dondarrion or Thoros of Myr. Our greenseer’s visions of that area are still blocked. You have made no progress either?” Jon asked. The situation in the Stormlands was also one of his worries.

“My little birds have not reported back and what is worse, they seemed to have vanished into thin air. I am hesitant to send others. I will not endanger my little spies if it can be helped I fear the red priestess in service of Lord Baratheon is some kind of greenseer as well and can sniff them out just as Lord Reed helped us with exposing Littlefinger’s spies these last few years. You should fear for the safety of Lord Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr.” Varys cautioned.

“There is nothing we can do for them now. We have no means to contact them. They volunteered and went on their own accord.” Jon sighed. Is that is the only region that troubles you? I still am not sure about the Iron Islands, Dorne, The Rock and the Reach. Neither of them is likely to declare for my side as far as I know. The other Kingdoms are firmly on board.”

“Yohn Royce has declared for you then?” Varys asked pleasantly surprised?

“If he hasn’t, he will soon. Uncle Ned should have gotten him past the last hurdle after I laid the groundwork.” Jon gave himself credit for once. 

“I withheld a petition from Lord Walder of House Frey. King Robert is already looking for ways to punish house Frey for conspiring with Peter Baelish. Trouble in the Riverlands will not help our cause.” 

Jon’s frowned. “What did Walder Frey want from the King? Perhaps he has a daughter or a granddaughter at the ready to marry the King?”

“More than one, I guess. I reckon he will give the King the pick of the lot and offer their weight in gold as a dowry. But that was not the content of the scroll. House Frey officially petitioned to replace House Tully in the Riverlands. I think Lord Frey has gone mad or something, sending this petition now that Lord Stark is Hand of the King. I wonder if this is still the remnants of a last hurray of Littlefinger, his last attempt at creating chaos in that region.” Varys sat comfortably in his chair marvelling at the sight of the young man in front of him. 

Jon however was still mentally cataloguing the possible hindrances to his plans. “We also need to keep a close eye on House Bolton. I am sure Lord Bolton has not given up on his ambitions. With Robb still rather new at governing such a large kingdom we need to stay vigilant. Chaos in the North will weaken our cause considerably

“It was wise of you the send your other uncle his way.” Lord Varys remarked a bit gleeful when he saw the young man startle at his words.

“How did you know I was behind that?” Jon had been convinced that he had handled that as subtle as he could.

“My birds in Winterfell heard Benjen talk to himself in his quarters. Do not worry, my Prince. Not only are they very discreet, I do not think they understand the real meaning of the things they report to me. Just think of it as a puzzle. If you have only a few pieces, you can’t see what it represents. If you have been able to assemble most of them, you can image the rest and get the full picture. My little birds are trained to remember the exact words even if they do not understand their meaning.”

“Well, I want my Cousin Robb to be respected by the Lords of the North and making it public that he already had some trouble after only a few moons wouldn’t help his position.”

“Nobody will hear a thing from me, my Prince.” Varys reassured the young Prince. “Now, can you tell me about that dangerous enemy in the north? It will help me understand why our cause has been delayed. You know, the one everyone thought never existed and was just a figment of a fairy tale teller’s imagination? I am told you killed an ice creature yourself?”

Jon obliged him by describing his rescue of Uncle Benjen telling the normal version, not the enhanced one Tormund and himself had playacted several times in front of the bonfire at the Free Folk Settlement. He did go into detail when describing the way of life of the Free Folk and their predicament.

“The problem is that the White Walkers and their army of the dead have retreated to the far north for some mysterious reason of their own. It will take them a moon and a half to reach the nearest Wildling settlement once they start moving. We do not know how important time is for these creatures nor how slowly their soldiers decay?” 

Jon shifted slightly in his chair when his mind, unsolicited, conjured up those foul images.  
“Trust me when I say that the wights are stinking, rotting corpses who mindlessly obey their masters. What if somehow they know that they are creating trouble for me in Westeros and are just toying with me, with us and biding their time? Perhaps I should take the gamble and change my priorities once more. If I take the throne first, I could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against them.”

“My Prince,” Varys started.

“I know, Lord Varys” Jon prevented Lord Varys from intervening. He took a deep breath.

“I do realise that it will not be a straightforward victory. I will not have full control of all Kingdoms without a few struggles at best, a war on my hands at worst. I just pray that this respite lasts long enough for Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur to arrive. I want to make such important decisions with their support and advice. I have a feeling that there is no good choice here. Unfortunately I am only one person and my presence or it is perhaps more accurate to say, the presence of my dragons, is paramount to both causes.”

“And I always say _‘a decision is only as good as the information upon which it is based’._ Let everyone, all your allies gather as much information they can and then you sit down, hopefully with your trusted Hand at your disposal. I know I am undermining my own field of experience but also make sure you consult that greenseer of yours once more. Leave no stone unturned in your quest for information. And then, clear your mind and look at everything as if you see it for the first time. Trust your instincts, my young Prince. They have not led you wrong so far.”

Jon stayed silent, thinking about his own greenseeing ambitions and the risks they involved. Varys was wrong about his instincts though. He had made several mistakes already, starting with the attack on the pirate ship. The rest of Varys’ advice sounded wise enough if he had ample time before a decision needed to be reached. It always came down to time and timing.

“Perhaps I should tell you about the proposition I have received from Yara Greyjoy.” Jon changed the subject once more and proceeded to tell a rather impressed Master of Whispers of all his dealings with the Ironborn and Strickland, the captain-general of the Golden Company.

After the more serious topics were dealt with, both men enquired after the other’s life story. Somehow the conversation circled back to the Hand of the King.

“Did you hear about the bet Eddard Stark made with King Robert?” Varys asked the young Prince.

“I do not think so?” Jon replied uncertain he knew what the Master of Whisperers was referring to.

“Well our Lord Hand won a prize stallion of the King when Prince Oberyn accepted the seat on the small council. Our Dornish friend even accepted it personally instead of sending a representative of Dorne to represent him.”

“I didn’t hear about that. I bet you though that Uncle Ned will not take possession of the King’s horse. Just Robert Baratheon’s admitting defeat will be enough to satisfy my uncle.”

“We’ll see. I’ll keep you informed, my Prince.”

Both men startled when the innkeeper entered the room to light a few candles. Jon realising it was growing late quickly ended the meeting after that and said goodbye to Varys. He apologized that he was not able to stay for supper but he didn’t want to make his Kingsguard worry unduly. He had specifically promised Ser Gerold to be back before dark. Ser Gerold on his part had agreed not to send someone by boat to guard him. Jon wanted to keep his side of the bargain and needed to fly back immediately.

Varys took his leave from the Targaryen Prince with a low bow and sat back down as he watched the young man disappear. Aegon Targaryen was not at all what he had expected. Lord Stark had given an accurate description of his features but when the Lord Hand talked about the Prince it was always as one talks about one’s child. 

Lord Varys had not expected the Prince to be so mature and grown up. He had supposed his assertive letters had been written with the help of his advisers. It had been a pleasant surprise. The Targaryen Prince had a firm head on his shoulders and even though the influence of House Stark was clearly present, the Prince was an honourable, well educated, open minded person. He was already more sophisticated, more familiar with the grey areas of real life than his uncle who was more than two times his senior.

Varys always wanted more knowledge. Not having the constitution to accompany the Prince to his dragons but wanting to know more about the young man’s interactions with his large flying beasts, he had ordered a little bird to follow the Targaryen Prince from a distance. The young boy had been ordered to keep well out of sight since he knew exactly where the Prince was headed. The boy knew what details to look out for and would bring him a detailed account as soon as possible.

What Varys could do himself was watch from the town’s square, amidst several townsfolk how the Prince disappeared from sight. He could only see a small figure atop a green dragon from this distance but that sight alone was impressive enough. 

He knew his little spy would soon report every little detail. How the Prince mounted his dragon. If he used sign language or spoke to them in High Valyrian. If the beasts breathing could be heard, and so on. Even the tiniest detail would be brought to his ears. He had trained his little birds well. He went inside to wait for the young boy. These were indeed strange times, but strangely fascinating in a very good way. 

 

Later that evening, Varys stared at a small brown mushroom, a frown on his face. According to his little bird, the Prince had taken several of these back to Dragonstone. He knew they were poisonous and wondered what the young man intended to do with them. These were strange times indeed.

 

***

 

The next day at the Dragonstone things went back to normal. Jon resumed his normal training, discussed the newest scrolls from the Wall, Uncle Ned, Greywater Watch, a long one from his uncle Benjen and the lack of news from the Stormlands. He spent some time in the library with Sam and Daenerys reading the response from the Tyrells. 

It was a response to the one they had sent. Dany had signed a message that stated that she could not entertain their offer in good faith since she had nothing to bring to the table. The dragon or dragons were not hers. But she thanked them all the same and reassured them she was not in need of support since she had loyal friends in the North. Lady Olenna praised her honesty and promised her support should she ever need it, _‘We women need to stick together. Males have enough power as it is’,_ were the exact words the Queen of Thorns had used in her answer.

Jon went on a stroll with Dany and they did their best to keep to neutral topics. She told him how for the first time in years her life had purpose. How she enjoyed helping Sam with all the messages and that he was making progress with his fluency in High Valyrian. 

“I have been meaning to speak to you about something, Aegon. It is about my Septa Moelle.” Daenerys addressed a topic Jon had been hesitant to broach.

“Am I right in stating she has not made Dragonstone her home?” Jon guessed.

Dany nodded. She was touched that he had paid enough attention to notice that.  
“She has asked to be relieved of her duties and wants to return to Essos. Apparently she left some dear friends behind and as you said, life for her here is too,uh, well uh, too boring. For her, not for me.” Dany added that last bit hastily.

“Well you have new responsibilities in running the household, are helping our cause, assisting Sam, and taking strolls with me.” He smiled hesitantly when he added that last bit. 

“Septa Moelle probably sits alone in her room right now. She hasn’t tried to form acquaintances with anyone since arriving here. I am worried about the effects of her leaving you though. You hardly have any female company as it is.” Jon frowned when he contemplated that aspect of the situation. 

Dany hesitated but straightened herself when she looked at him. “I must admit that I have received word from Irri, my former handmaid who stayed behind in Pentos. Her friend, the man she stayed in Essos for, has transferred his attentions to someone else and now she regrets not accompanying me to Westeros. She asked if I still would be interested in her services. I received that message the day when we, uh, when we quarrelled. I admit I sent word of my acceptance without consulting you. I expect her any day.”  
She steeled herself ready to defend her actions.

 

“That’s wonderful news Dany.” A genuine smile lit his features. “I remember her. She was the one who lived with the Dothraki once and was sold into your services, wasn’t she? I wondered why she was not with you when you arrived. That girl worshipped the ground you walked on. I reckoned she was more a friend than a servant.”

“Well, I was the first who treated her as a human being and not a slave. She received some recompense for her services and was allowed to pursue a relationship. I offered her her freedom. Is it any wonder she is loyal to me?” Dany smiled tentatively. “So you will welcome her to Dragonstone? I did not overstep?”

“Of course you didn’t overstep, Dany. You are entitled to a royal entourage. I am a fool for not considering that before. Look who is not well versed in the traditions and lore of Westeros. You need ladies-in-waiting. You are a royal princess.” Jon’s face turned pensive now. 

“Possibilities are limited of course since our presence here is still a secret but perhaps we could ask Lord Manderly. He has two granddaughters near your age, Wylla and Wynafryd. I could write him. Or better, I’ll write the first paragraph to introduce you and then you can make the request yourself. House Manderly is a large and rich house. Lord Manderly’s granddaughters will have received an excellent education and they will be well versed in Westerosi houses, history, customs, traditions, dances.” 

He looked at her and seeing her willing to consider this another idea struck him and he became even more enthusiastic and started to talk even faster.

“Oh, and if Prince Oberyn might lend you one or two daughters, not only would you be well protected but also, if you would so desire, they could teach you to wield a spear, a sword, a bow, or whichever skill you want acquire to defend yourself. Best see how we formulate that request though or all eight of his daughters might descend on Dragonstone before you know it.”

“Aegon,” Dany put her hand on his arm to stop his momentum. “You are thinking out loud and getting ahead of yourself. Let us discuss this later in detail once we both had a chance to think this through before we make any decisions. Do not mistake me. These are all valid ideas, but we need to consider them carefully first. We have to consider all options and repercussions.” 

She looked up at him willing him to hear her out. “Have you considered that a granddaughter of Lord Manderly might not want to acknowledge a bastard born daughter of a Dornish Prince? And I hesitate to think how she might treat Irri. And you said it yourself, we need to be circumspect when we formulate our messages. I would require both candidates’ opinion on the matter. My female entourage must be a tight knit group that likes and supports each other. If not, I’d rather choose to let it just be me and Irri. So please let us postpone this topic until later and for now, let us just enjoy our walk.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon looked a bit sheepish. “I sometimes get carried away. You are right. And you have the final say of course. Perhaps you might offer a trial period?” He sighed.  
“I am sorry. I am doing it again. ” He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the sea. 

“Dany, I officially put this matter in your hand. You decide what you think is best. If you need me to write an introduction in a message, just ask. Whenever you need my assistance or advice, I am ready to give it. But I won’t interfere without your leave. I trust you to handle this matter and know you will not compromise our safety.” 

His tone clearly indicated the subject was closed for now. Forcing his mind to dwell on another subject, he inspected the ever growing number of ships for a while. He noticed she had come up right next to him, a peaceful look on her face. 

“Look at our fleet. It is an amazing sight isn’t it?” He broke the silence.

“It is. It will be even more perfect later.” Now she was the one who looked pensive. 

“Aegon, have you given the order to make banners and dye the sails with the Targaryen colours and the sigil of the three headed dragon yet? “ She asked him. 

“I haven’t, not personally. Perhaps one of my advisers has, but I do not think it likely. That is a good point you raise, Dany. Perhaps you can bring this up at our next meeting and with it suggestions on how to organise such an endeavour. I look forward to the day we will be able to display our house’s sigil openly once more with a lot of pride.” He smiled at her grateful she had brought that up. “Thanks Dany.” 

“Glad to help, Aegon.” She looked at him briefly before turning her eyes back in front of her, into the direction the were walking. 

Although they had been able to carry on a nice conversation, she still felt the lingering hurt that he hadn’t taken her with him to the Driftmark. Therefore she avoided the topic and refrained from asking him after his grandmother wellbeing. However, when they were on their way back to the castle, it was Jon who brought the subject up. 

“I would like to introduce you to my foster grandmother, Dany. She expressed the wish to get to know you. Would that be your wish as well?” He had stopped and studied her, his grey Stark eyes expressing more warmth than they had these past sennights.

“I would love to meet her, Aegon. I admit to being somewhat disappointed that you visited her without me the other day.” She told him keeping her tone light and friendly.

“I didn’t want to keep you from her. I just had more errands to run and couldn’t take you with me. That reminds me. I have something for you. He handed her a small package wrapped in a brown cloth and she took it hesitantly.

“You bought me a gift, Aegon?” Her eyes lit up.

“Actually I didn’t buy it.” Seeing her immediate disappointment he amended his statement. “I wanted to buy it for you but the blacksmith, Jekken, he is a friend you see, he wouldn’t accept any payment. So it is more his gift than mine. I can only take credit for wanting to procure it for you.” 

He watched as she carefully unwrapped the trinklet and his face softened when he witnessed the wonder on her face.

“It is you on Rhaegal! How on earth did he make it in such detail? Green metal even! Thank you Aegon, I’ll cherish it. If ever I get the chance, I want to thank the blacksmith personally. I’ll carry it with me everywhere I go.” She wrapped it once more in the cloth and tucked it in her side pocket.

I’ll take you to the Driftmark soon, I promise. I’ll introduce you to my foster grandmother and we can visit Jekken’s little shop.” A tender look flashed over his face before he resumed a neutral expression once more.

“Well, you have kept your promises so far. I pray each night you will be able to keep all of them.” She swallowed and averted her eyes. Turning away from him she added, “Perhaps we should go back inside?” 

“Dany,” he circled around her so he faced her once more, his grey eyes bore into hers. “Dany, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“I am not the one making it hard, Aegon. That is all you. You are the one who asks for us to be in each other’s company often and expects us to behave as if we are just cordial family members. You do not know how hard that is for me to do. How hard it is to keep my promise not to tempt you. And all the while fool that I am, I long for your company and I can’t refuse you if you ask me to go for a walk with you.” 

Tears welled up and she looked at the ground in an attempt to avoid his gaze.  
Seeing her tears only amplified the conflicting emotions that were making his stomach flutter.

“Dany, look at me, please. I didn’t realise it was that hard for you. What would you have me do? I thought not seeing you, ignoring you would make you feel worse. I only had the best intentions. Do not think for one instant that this is easy for me.” His voice betrayed his uncertainty.

“Then why, Aegon? Why do things only halfway?” She lifted her head and her beautiful violet eyes who glistened even brighter now that they were wet with unshed tears pleaded with his grey ones. Her voice was steady though when she reasoned with him. 

“If you are insisting on spending time together, just the two of us, with the intent of making things easier for me, why not use this precious period of grace that we are granted here on Dragonstone to actually make me feel better instead of dangling what could be before my eyes? It only makes things worse. I would feel so much better if you would just hold me in your arms for a short time, make me feel you love me and convince me you still believe there is a chance for us.”

She stopped when she saw his eyes grow darker as he took a step closer. It had been a desperate plea of her. She knew full well he would not indulge her. His attitude these last sennights had been frustratingly consistent. No lingering looks, no extra warmth. She got just the same cordial treatment that Sam got. But against all odds his eyes, his beautiful eyes really looked at her now and she found herself firmly pressed against him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. She felt him breathe hard against her neck.

“Never doubt that, my love. Never doubt that my every effort is spent working towards a favourable outcome for us. If only you knew …” He drew in a sharp breath and stopped mid-sentence.

“What is it, Aegon?” She felt him tense and sensed his sudden agony but couldn’t understand it.

“I can’t tell you, Dany.” He almost groaned in frustration. His voice sounded forlorn when he continued. “As the Gods are my witness, I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anybody. It is my burden to bear. Just know that I will leave no stone unturned.” He took a calming breath. 

“I love you Dany. I always will. I hope I do not have to marry someone other than you. My heart would betray that unhappy woman every single moment of our miserably joint lives. Never doubt that I love you and only you.”

He tilted her chin and gave her a desperate kiss. It was like a dam had broken and all his pent up frustration and anguish came pouring out of him. He was not gentle when he forced her lips to open for him. She didn’t mind and didn’t offer any resistance. She held on to him and let him take whatever he wanted from her. 

When he finally released her swollen lips to kiss every bit of uncovered skin he could find, she willingly tilted her head backwards to grant him easier access to the soft skin below her chin and the neckline of her dress. His left hand found its way to her lower back and he pressed his body against hers. She could feel his hard member and realised that she had been wrong to doubt him. Aegon wanted her. He wanted her desperately and had been struggling with their tepid encounters just as much or perhaps even more than she had.

“Feel this Dany. Feel what you do to me. Never doubt me. Do,” he kissed her left eye, “not”, he kissed her right eye, “ever”, he kissed the top of her nose, “doubt me”, was murmured against her mouth as he took possession of it once more. His right hand held her head imprisoned and she couldn’t draw back even if she had wanted. 

Somehow he still increased the intensity of his kisses. She felt as if he was eating her alive. His hips gyrated against hers and she felt a fire burn inside her, a longing for something more grow almost painfully intense. She wanted him to devour her whole and responded to his passion her tongue actively joining the fight his tongue was raging in their mouths. The feelings got too intense and Dany started shaking. She could only keep upright because Aegon was supporting her. 

She felt it the moment he realised this. His violent kisses turned gently in the blink of a moment. His hands still cupped her face and buttocks but now only to support her instead of to confine her. Their lips almost touching, he breathed heavily against her. 

“I’m sorry Dany. I am so sorry. I am nothing more than a brute. Forgive me. Don’t be scared of me. Never be scared of me.” His tone was soft and remorseful.

She immediately realised he had mistaken her shivers for fear and not for what they really were. 

“I was not scared Aegon. My body just reacted to yours. It wants you as bad as you just proved you want me.” She couldn’t hide her happiness when she gazed at him her passion-filled eyes confirming her words.

He tucked her head against his chest and she felt safe and cherished. She felt his heart beat fast and listened to his heavy breathing. When it slowed down, he spoke against her hair. 

“I am sorry for putting you in this state. I am sorry we cannot finish what we started.” He held on to her but made sure to keep his hips away from her body. I need a cold bath. I do not think I can walk two steps without anyone noticing.” he softly touched her belly with his hardness to prove his point before severing the connection once more. 

“Let’s sit down for a while.” Although she felt frustrated as hell, she understood this was neither the time nor the place to take this any further than they already had. Besides, she had made that damned promise not to entice him. They sat on the lush grass facing each other, just enough space between them so he could not touch her even if he stretched his legs.

“As soon as you are able to, just go inside Dany. I probably need more time than you to fix this.” He looked at his groin, a wry smile noticeable on his face. “I told you it would be hard if we went down this road.”

“Literally?” She tried to joke.

“As you see,” his smile more genuine now. Some of the tension subsided. “You’ll be the death of me woman.”

“I don’t mind, not if that happens when we are both old, grey and lying in bed together.

“Not helping, Dany.” Jon protested but he was disappointed when she got up and left a bit later. Nothing had been resolved but he felt lighter somehow. He had reached a decision. He would not wait any longer. Tonight he would fix the potion.

 

***

 

Sam burst into the kitchen on the lower levels of the castle in a very uncharacteristic manner for him. He was sweating profusely having run the entire length of the castle trying to find Jon. 

“Jon! Here you are. What are you doing?” He stopped in his tracks seeing Jon sitting on a modest chair, his head and arms lying on the wooden table, his eyes closed.

“Jon, wake up! An urgent message has come from Winterfell. Wake up Jon!” 

Touching Jon’s shoulder didn’t help. He shook him carefully in an effort to get Jon to open his eyes. When he got no reaction whatsoever he studied the small cup and the pestle. Jon had been grinding something. He took up the cup and looked at a brownish substance that smelled terribly. 

“What in Seven Hells?” Sam looked around for more clues and found discarded spores of mushrooms and some wilted leaves he didn’t immediately recognise. Then it dawned on him that Jon was here entirely alone. No sign of any of his Kingsguards. He got worried that Jon had done something stupid on purpose. 

Sam had come to look for his friend after Maester Pylos had woken him to give him the urgent message from Winterfell stating he could not find the Prince in his bedroom and if Sam would be willing to give it to him. 

He had encountered a servant on his way down to the library to check whether Jon had perhaps trouble sleeping and was doing some research. The servant that was doing his rounds to check the candles had told him he had spotted the Prince entering the kitchen and had heard him ask the maids to give him some privacy. 

Sam was getting really worried now. He had tried to shake Jon with a bit more force but Jon still hadn’t given a sign of life except for the rising and falling of his chest that at least was proof he was still alive and breathing. All of a sudden he heard footsteps in the hallway. Some instinct told him to protect his friend and he quickly hid the evidence of the strange potion Jon had apparently consumed.

“Lord Tarly, have you seen,” Ser Oswell halted his speech seeing his Prince asleep at the kitchen table. 

“The poor boy is apparently exhausted. Too many late nights combined with early morning trainings will do that to you. Shall we wake him and help him back to his bed?” Ser Oswell looked at Sam.

“I think we should try and wake him. I have a scroll marked urgent from Winterfell. The seal however marks it as a personal message for the eyes of the Prince only. If only Davos were here. He is authorised to open such scrolls if Jon is not available.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? The Prince is right here. We only have to wake him.” Ser Oswell approached the table and just as Sam had done before, he touched Jon’s shoulder. 

“My Prince?” He applied a bit more pressure. “My Prince? Please wake up. An urgent message from your uncle has arrived.”

A small groan and Jon lifted his head slightly only to put it back down. Both men heard Jon’s stomach make a nasty sound. 

“Sam, a chamber pot or some sort of bowl, quickly.” Ser Oswell witnessed his Prince’s turn green on the spot.

Sam grabbed the first kettle he could find and handed it to Ser Gerold. The knight helped Jon lift his head and turned it to the side. It had been the right call. Not even opening his eyes Jon hurled the contents of his stomach into the receptacle until there was nothing left and it were dry heaves that both men witnessed. Sam had gotten pale and his stomach felt queasy as well. Ser Oswell wasn’t doing much better. 

“Sick,” was all that Jon was able to say in a hoarse voice.

Ser Oswell called a servant and gave him the kettle to dispose of its contents. He gently lowered his Prince’s head back on the table and went over to the small window to breathe in some fresh air. Sam however attempted once more to get Jon’s attention.  
“Jon, try to focus. There is an urgent message from Winterfell. We need you lucid so we can learn its contents.”

This time the groan was louder. “Winterfell?” 

“From Benjen Stark. If he says it is urgent, well uh then it is.” Sam stammered.

“Read it.” Jon managed to utter with visible effort. 

“Can I open it?” Sam asked just to be sure.

“Out loud, please.” Jon answered with another groan.

 

_Jon,_  
_Bad tidings. Robb missing for more than two days. Went to Wintertown with Theon. Neither returned. Ayra saw Greyjoy and Ramsay Snow together. Message received with ultimatum Boltons. Hand over Sansa in exchange for hostage. Have called Lords of the North to lay siege to Dreadfort. Fear each day one too many for Robb to withstand torture. Help from the sky is welcome.  
Your uncle, Benjen Stark _

 

When Sam had stopped reading, Jon tried to lift his head only to put it back down again. “Need leave.”

“You are too sick to leave now, my Prince. Let me call for the Maester.” Ser Oswell had watched his Prince’s reactions with growing unease.

“Sam, water.” Jon’s croaking voice was barely recognisable.

“Sam, help him. I will fetch Ser Gerold.” And Ser Oswell left the room. 

Sam looked at his friend a big question in his eyes. “Jon, what have you taken?”  
At Jon’s stricken look he added. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe for now. I have concealed the evidence. How can I help?”

“Water.” Jon repeated with difficulty.

 

When Ser Gerold entered the room his clothes in disarray and out of breath, he saw his Prince looking pale and weak sitting up, his elbows on the table, his head held in both hands. Young Tarly was quietly talking to him.

“My Prince,” he announced his arrival. 

“Ser Gerold,” Jon replied trying to make a better impression than he felt. “I’m all right. Unsettled stomach, headache, no fever, sorry to worry you.” Drinking a few sips of water had helped his voice sound a bit more humane.

“Ser Oswell alerted the Maester to make you a tonic for your stomach. Maester Pylos is brewing it as we speak.” Ser Gerold replied looking visibly relieved. Ser Oswell’s descriptions had really worried him. I left Ser Barristan with the Princess. No need to alarm her for the time being. The message?”

Sam handed him the scroll trying to will the man to take it easy on Jon with a pertinent look.

“It seems our idyllic time here is at an end,” the Lord Commander simply replied. “We will make a travel bag ready for you.” 

“Including your spyglass and little mirror, my Prince.” He added when Jon threw him a doubtful look. “I will ask a servant to help you dress.”

“I can leave?” Jon hardly believed his ears.

“Robb Stark is your kin. I’ve grown wiser, my Prince. I will even give you my blessing if in turn you leave on my terms. They are threefold. First you leave only if you have no fever. Second you do not leave before you can keep something solid in your stomach for half a day. And last but not least, you prove to us first that you can think straight enough to solve a riddle Sam will give you. No cheating.” He addressed a stern look to both youths.

“Thanks, Ser Gerold. I promise to fulfil all three conditions before I risk myself and my dragons.” Jon stood up and almost lost his balance. 

“Just take it easy,” Sam lent his shoulder for support. “Just give your blood a chance to flow through your body again.” When Jon nodded gratefully the both of them slowly walked out of the room. 

“See that they clean him before he dresses, Lord Tarly.” Ser Gerold called after them as he watched his Prince disappear a deep frown between his brows.

 

 

**Interlude 23: Visions**

Bran was starting to like it at Greywater Watch. At first he had been sad to leave Winterfell although it was nice to be singled out for once. Normally his other siblings drew most of the attention. When they spoke to him it was often to chastise him to be more circumspect when he climbed. They never once praised him even though he had gotten really good at it. He could climb almost anything he wanted and very quickly when he applied himself. The tools he had received from Jon Celtigar had made all the difference. He could handle them really well and had ordered the local blacksmith at Winterfell to make more hooks so he could leave some of them attached to strategic spots in the walls he often climbed. 

Things had changed when Lord Reed had arrived at Winterfell. They all had started to pay him a lot more attention. His mother had spent all her free time with him during his last days in his home. His older brother had been somewhat jealous. Bran knew Robb performed his warging exercises almost daily but had not made much progress. Arya and Bran had benefited immediately and felt a constant bond with their direwolf now. They could sense what their wolf was feeling and if they really concentrated they knew where their pet was. Bran persuaded Arya not to pester Robb about it, using the argument that her friend Jon would want it that way and would be proud of her for being so considerate. Bran knew Robb envied him even more now that he had been singled out by Lord Reed.

Lord Reed had proven to be an amazing teacher. Bran could warg into Summer easily now and join him when he roamed the swamps. He had also started to warg into a mouse and several bird species. Bran liked the feeling of flying although he still lost control the moment the bird flew too high or too far away from him. According to Lord Reed, he would get better at it. He also had experienced his first greendreams. The first one had come to him not long after Lord Reed had taught him to relax, clear his mind and think of the Gods. Such sessions always took place outside in the Godswood. Bran had never seen a more beautiful Godswood as the one here at Greywater Watch. 

These days, he entered the woods with mixed feelings. Some of the visions the Gods sent him scared him. Lord Reed often needed to calm him down afterwards and help him make sense of what he saw. He had learned a lot though and knew already most of what to look for when the Gods gifted him with these visions.

He still remembered his very first vision. He had been touching the weirwood tree with both hands resting his head against it as Lord Reed had suggested when it had started. He had seen a dessert and had felt the warmth on his skin. There had been a modest settlement in the distance with a few stone buildings and several tents in that vision. A tall skinny man with hardly any hair and a long beard had approached him but instead of speaking to him, the man had sat down against the only tree that could be found in the desolate landscape. Lord Reed had explained to him that it had probably been a palm tree when he had described how the tree looked in detail.

“Always look at your surroundings, Bran. You need to find clues to identify where you are. The tree you described grows only in regions with warm climates. That means you were somewhere in the south or even in Essos. Did the man carry a sigil on his clothing?”

“I didn’t look.” Bran had stammered a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t think so? His clothing looked poor.”

“What else did you observe Bran? Did he say anything? Did you see other people?” 

“He just sat there staring in the distance, shaking his head.” Bran had paused. “Home.” He had looked up at Howland Reed with a bit of excitement. “He mumbled that word a few times. I think I hear him say he wanted to go home. He didn’t see me.”

“Of course he didn’t. You weren’t there Bran. This thing happened either a long time ago, or is happening now very far from where we are, or it hasn’t happened yet. Do you understand what I am saying?” Lord Reed had put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I think so. When the Gods show us something it can be past, present or future. Oh, I might see who I am going to marry and whether I will win tournaments and be knighted?” The boy had brimmed with hope now, all fear of this strange gift momentarily forgotten.

“You might Bran. But to be able to understand that vision, you would have to be able to recognise your older self. Do you think you know what you will look like when you are an adult? Every time you see a person in a vision you must try to recognise him. If it is an old man, try to imagine what he looked like when he was younger. Perhaps it is your brother Rickon forty years from now. If you see a child playing with a toy, try to recognise the toy, the place where the child is and imagine what the child would look when it becomes an adult. We need to use every clue the Gods give us in our visions to find out what they mean. The Gods give us these visions for a reason. Somehow, some day, these visions will make sense and we will be able to help someone with our knowledge.”

“Even a vision of an old man crying in the dessert?”

“Even that vision Bran. See, you remembered something new. You hadn’t told me before the man had been crying. It often happens that the Gods will send you the same vision more than once. It can be moons, years later and when they do that. They might add a new detail to help you make sense of it. Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. You are a very apt student. I am proud of how you are dealing with all of this, Bran.” 

Bran had stood up straighter, proud at being praised like that. That was one more thing Bran liked about being here. Here he wasn’t one of five siblings and had to fight for attention. Here he was considered to be some kind of prodigy. 

He got along with Meera just fine and even though Jojen had celebrated two more namedays, the boy was always kind and helpful. Jojen also had a bit of the gift and helped Bran when he doubted his abilities reassuring him he had all the time in the world to learn how to do this. Jojen even told him some mistakes he himself had made when he interpreted his first visions. Once he had received a scary vision of his mother lying in a bed screaming and bleeding and had run to his father to say that mother would die very soon. Apparently after his father had calmed him down enough to get him to describe the other persons present in his mother’s bedroom, it became clear that he had witnessed his own birth.

After that tale, Bran never went alone to the Godswood. This time however he had not been in the Godswood when the visions came to him. He had been asleep, or so he thought when several short greendreams came to him. He woke in a sweat and quickly scribbled down a few key words to make sure he didn’t forget a single one of them. He had never had so many in one instance and they had felt rather important so he dressed and went in search for Lord Reed immediately.  
He found the man in his solar breaking his fast in solitude. 

“Lord Reed?” he asked hesitantly staying in the doorway.

“Good morning, Bran. Come in. Is something the matter?” Lord Reed pushed his plate to the side and focused his attention on his ward.

“I need advice, Lord Reed. I had several visions I think are important.” The boy explained his appearance.

“Been to the Godswood already, Bran? You know I would rather go with you when you are still learning and rather young to see some of the things the Gods might show you.”

“I wasn’t in the Godswood, Lord Reed. It happened in my bed, in my sleep sort of.” Bran elaborated.

Lord Reed studied him closely for a while. “Then the Gods must have important messages indeed. Sit down Bran. Let’s talk about them now before you forget some of the details.”

Bran came in and chose a seat by the fireplace. He waited patiently for Lord Reed to take the seat facing him.

“Tell me exactly what they showed you, Bran.” Lord Reed asked, a bit worried why the Gods would send visions without waiting for them to visit the Godswood.

Bran averted his eyes and concentrated. To Lord Reed it looked as if the boy was conjuring the visions up again.

“Well they were mostly just flashes and some disappeared rather quickly. I saw different persons, different locations and I saw a green dragon fly high across the sea with someone on it.” The boy finally answered.

“Start from the beginning, Bran. And please take your time. What was the first thing the Gods showed you?”

“I saw aunt Lysa receive a gift from a man with a beautiful coat. She called him Petyr. It was a small bottle, I think a smelling liquid? She seemed afraid of it though.” Bran blushed. 

“The man kissed Aunt Lysa on the lips. He had a yellow sigil with a black drawing but the vision disappeared before I could make out what it represented.”

“That my young charge, was Petyr Baelish. And it was a vision from the past. What you saw, probably happened several moons ago. The man was the traitor who had Lord Arryn murdered. You heard of Lord Baelish’s trial?”

“Robb told me a bit about it. Aunt Lysa was guilty as well?”

“She was. Lord Baelish and your aunt did it together. You probably saw him handing her the poison that killed Jon Arryn. I wonder why the Gods showed you that since the matter has been resolved already. Petyr Baelish was tried, convicted and the sentence has been carried out. What was the next thing the Gods showed you?”

“I saw a woman and a man get married in the Godswood. The woman looked like Arya would look when she will be older. The man was a southerner. He had the most amazing white hair and dark purple eyes. They looked very much in love.” 

Bran shifted a bit in his chair, that vision clearly had made the boy nervous.

“Did you see a sigil? Did you recognise the Godswood? Were there witnesses present as is usual with a marriage before the Old Gods?” Lord Reed already suspected the bride was not Arya Stark.

“Yes! The man wore the sigil of the three headed dragon. Will Arya marry a Targaryen? I thought Prince Viserys had died and he was the last one?”

“Focus Bran. It can be someone from the past. We do not know whether this is past, present or future yet. You probably have several ancestors that resemble Arya.”

“Well, she was a Stark, I saw the direwolf sigil. There were several knights present. I only saw one sigil, a burning tower. Bran paused and his face lightened up when he remembered the sigil. “A knight of House Hightower!”

“Then it is most likely that you saw the past, Bran. I think you saw a secret marriage between a Stark and a Targaryen. Do not tell anyone of this young man. Not even Jojen or Meera. This is a very important secret. Will you swear upon your honour as a Stark and upon the lives of all you hold dear not to reveal this secret to anyone unless circumstances allow for it?”

Bran’s eyes were big as saucers. “I already swore the greenseer’s oath Lord Reed. Is this really necessary?”

“It is Bran. This knowledge could cause a new Rebellion.” 

Bran quickly swore the oath wanting to know very badly what was going on. Lord Reed didn’t make him wait.

“You saw your Aunt Lyanna marry Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Bran. You saw they were very much in love. The Rebellion that killed the Targaryen Prince was based on a lie.” 

“But why is it still so very much a secret after all these years?” Bran was a bit disappointed with that explanation. He thought he had uncovered some future alliance between Wolves and Dragons.

“Because House Targaryen is not extinct. They had a child. You have a cousin, Bran, a brave young man with a claim to the Iron Throne. He will come forward soon enough. Better leave it at that for now.” Lord Reed was getting worried. The Gods really made his life rather complicated. Why show the boy all this?

Bran started to get agitated. “Lord Reed. That may come to pass sooner than you know. You might want to hear my next vision.” When the man gestured for him to continue Bran spoke up.

“I saw King Robert, lying on a bed and he was dying. He was in a lot of pain. Does this mean my mysterious cousin will become King soon?” Bran was getting excited.

“Was someone with him, Bran? Normally a King has several people caring for him when he is that sick.”

“Yes. I saw father but he had his head lowered. I also saw Jon Celtigar. At least I think it was him. I only saw his back but I recognised his black curls. He was kneeling before the King’s bed and held the King’s hand. Is Jon a friend of the King? He never told us that.” Bran’s eyes, big as saucers now looked at Lord Reed eager for an explanation.

“Could you tell whether they were older than they are now? Think Bran, it is really important.” Lord Reed was shocked that the most important vision to come to any of them in moons would be given to the young Stark and not to him.

“I tried Lord Reed. I know it is important but King Robert’s hair was covered in a night cap, father was looking down and Jon, I mean Lord Celtigar, if it was him, had his back to me. I am sorry.” The boy looked anxious, not wanting to disappoint his mentor.

“Never mind Bran. I am sure you told it most faithfully. Was that the last of your visions?”

“No I had another one. I saw an ice monster with a really scary face. I could be a White Walker straight out of Old Nan’s stories. He held a healthy looking baby but then he touched the baby’s face with his icy finger. It turned into an ice baby with bright blue eyes this one was only a dream, I mean a nightmare?”

Lord Reed saw the boy was deeply troubled but he didn’t hold back. This was too important. He continued his relentless questioning. “Did you recognise the environment? Did you see anything, anyone else?” 

“Only a winter landscape with pine trees, no buildings, no other sign of life. It was just a short vision and then another even shorter one. The one with the green dragon I told you about. That is when I woke up.”

Important information or not, Lord Reed was starting to feel guilty for harassing the boy like this. He questioned the Gods intentions once more. He couldn’t fathom why the Gods would harass a child like that? He needed to calm Bran down so he would not resist future visions and use all he had learned to extend them if possible.

“You did well Bran. You are getting really powerful if you could see all of that in one session. I propose you break your fast first but then write everything down in the diary I gave you. Do not forget the tiniest detail. We will talk more about them later. You will soon be able to make sense of most of these visions. The Gods always have a reason.”

“I didn’t like them doing it in my sleep though, Lord Reed. Will this happen often?” Bran complained softly.

“I do not think so, son. I think they blessed you with everything at once so they can leave you alone for a while. I will certainly pray to them and ask them to spare you a bit. You did well, Bran. My advice to you is to write them down and then try to forget about them for a while. Leave the rest to me. I will take the necessary steps.”

“Thank you Lord Reed.” Bran made an awkward bow with his head and left the solar. He tried to focus on the memory of a happy Aunt Lyanna kissing her new husband. At least that had been a happy picture.

Lord Reed sighed. Something was up. The Gods connected all these events together. He worried most about King Robert’s deathbed and wondered whether it was really Jon who had held Robert Baratheon’s hand. That would mean Jon would somehow be in King’s Landing when the King died? And not just in King’s Landing but on his knees next to his Grace’s bed, as one would do for a friend who was dying. He got up from his seat and fetched his coat. He would visit the Godswood and ask the Gods to send these visions to him and not to a young boy that barely counted eleven nameday celebrations.

Most of all the description of the vision where the White Walker transformed a tiny baby and had stared straight at Bran had thrown him. Howland had never had a character in a vision staring him down, not ever. If Bran was telling the truth, and somehow he felt sure that was the case, then there was perhaps another power at work, a dark power that somehow could connect with the boy.

He wondered once more if he had done the right thing to take Bran under his wings and teach him how to receive greendreams. Perhaps the boy was still too young. Ever since he had started to teach Bran, he had received fewer visions himself and when he did, they were only of minor importance.

Was this the Old Gods’ way of showing their disapproval for taking Bran under his tutelage too soon? He hoped not. He knew from experience that the younger a greenseer got initiated, the more powerful he could become. The gift was strong in the boy, even stronger than he had ever dared to expect. It would have been a waste not to try to let the boy develop his full potential. 

He entered the Godswood and knelt before the heart tree, submitting himself to the will of his Gods. He prayed fervently to receive their counsel. 

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter King Robert and Ned Stark struggle to find a way to rule together.  
> In the interlude, Tyrion tries to solve a puzzle.


	24. Friend or foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Robert and Ned Stark struggle to find a way to rule together.  
> In the interlude, Tyrion tries to solve a puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more I give credit where it is due and humbly thank my patient beta Ravenousreadr.

*

Robert threw the cup against the wall. They all thought he was a fool. They all thought they could play him. Ned should know better. His _‘friend’_ knew how intelligent he was. He had given him proof enough during their youth. Granted, he hadn’t always shown much sense over the years. But try to be married to such a conniving adulterous bitch of a Lannister cunt and see if the honourable Ned would not have resorted to drinking and whoring. Ned had this model of a wife who obeyed her husband and stayed faithful.

He eyed the cup that lay in the corner and wondered if he should pick it up and have another drink.  
The only one he could trust these days was Varys. Better wait till after the meeting with the eunuch before he was too drunk to have an intelligent conversation. He needed help and he needed it soon.

Things were getting out of hand and somehow, however implausible, Ned was mixed up in it. He was as good as sure by now. Either of his own volition or forced into it, blackmailed perhaps? How could anyone be so stupid to involve honourable Ned Stark in a foul plot? His friend couldn’t lie even if he tried very hard. When Robert had started receiving messages warning him to distrust his Hand, he had burned them at first. But the content had kept nagging him and he had started to drop little hints to put his friend to the test.

Robert was no fool. He had noticed from the start that every time he brought up the subject of the Targaryens living in Essos or rather the only surviving Princess across the Narrow Sea, Ned got antsy. The very moment he dropped something relating to the dragon or rumours or the possibility of a dragonrider, his normally so confident Hand stammered a generic answer and couldn’t leave his presence soon enough. 

Ned came up with the lamest excuses to leave his presence and left without once looking straight at him. The last time Ned’s excuse had been an urgent matter concerning the sewer system. Ha, sewer system. The city lacked a sewer system. Had lacked it a hundred years ago and would not have one a hundred years from now. Ned clearly lied to him. Ned, the honourable Ned lied to him, his King, his friend. Why?

Once upon a time, he and Ned had been as close as brothers. They had done everything together. They understood each other before they even uttered a single word. They had fought side by side to defeat House Targaryen and when Robert took the throne, he had envisioned the both of them ruling the Kingdoms together. But then his honourable friend had taken offense when he had awarded the murders of the Targaryen children and their mother and things had never gone back to normal. Robert knew he had gone too far in Ned’s eyes. 

He knew he should have found a more discreet solution to get rid of the Targaryens. It couldn’t be helped though. It had been too late when they entered the capital and Robert couldn’t double back. He had taken a strong stance. The only way a King could act. Besides he had needed Tywin Lannister and things had escalated from there.

And now when he had found the courage to turn his life around, meeting Ned more than halfway in healing the rift between them so his dream of him and Ned ruling together would finally come true, his friend had started acting weird. Outsiders might think they had reconciled and were once more very close friends, but Robert knew better. _He was no fool damnit!_

Something was wrong. And it had been wrong from the very beginning. Now that he considered it, things had been off from the very first day that Ned had accepted to become his Hand. Why had Ned accepted the position so quickly? He had been blind at the time, too happy that his friend finally came to live with him in the capital to see the signs. 

He couldn’t blame himself for not noticing earlier though. At first everything had worked out. Ned had gotten him interested in ruling. They had drafted two excellent new decrees that were even praised by the smallfolk in Kingslanding. Robert, grateful for his friend’s company and support, had cut back on his bad habits. And Ned had noticed that. Robert had seen more than once the approbation in Ned’s eyes when Robert stopped the servant from refilling his cup. Things had been going so well.

Robert remembered the hunt they had been on the same day that Petyr Baelish had been convicted as clear as if it had been yesterday. He had seen his old friend reappear before his eyes. But the very next day, Ned had started to avoid him. He should never have left that damned trial. What had happened there? 

Now Ned avoided him as much as he could, whether he proposed to tackle a problem together or wanted to go on another pleasure outing just the two of them. He needn’t bring up Targaryens or dragons to bait him any longer. Ned was as flighty as a newly born foal. Either Ned was slowly losing his mind or something was wrong. 

At first he had thought Ned might be getting strong-armed by someone in the capital, but who and why? And even if that was the case, why would Ned not confide in his King? Why would he not trust in him, the best friend he had ever had? 

Then the anonymous messages had started to get under his skin and Robert had started to wonder. Why had Ned never wanted to come to the capital all these years before and all of a sudden accepted to do just that without even the tiniest delay to think things over? Did he have another agenda? Was he just like all the others in this accursed capital?

The messages also made him question why Robert was surrounded by men loyal to House Stark. There were hardly any Baratheon guards left at court. All he saw were direwolf sigils. The Lannisters of course were long gone and all prominent positions on the City Watch were filled with men loyal to Ned Stark. If anyone else had done something of the sort, Robert would have become suspicious at once, but he had trusted Ned, trusted him implicitly. _‘Perhaps he was a fool, damnit.’_

But what was Ned’s goal if he really had nefarious intention? He had a meeting with Varys in a bit and he really needed to hear the Master of Whisperers’ opinion. At first he had thought that Varys was in league with his Hand somehow but by now he knew better. Varys had betrayed Ned’s confidence several times already, coming to the King with things Ned withheld from him. The eunuch was on his side and would help him make sense of it all.

His Master of Whisperers had something new to say about his Hand and the Northern most Kingdom almost every day. He had given his King reports about the strengthening of the Northern Shores, the hidden fortress in the Neck and the large fleet the North had apparently amassed. Separately all these goings on could be explained away. But as Varys had pointed out, combine all of them and the picture changed dramatically. Something was up in the North, and it all came down to his so-called friend. 

The most worrisome had been the rumours about the dragonrider being kin to House Stark. But at least that one he didn’t believe. Robert had seen first hand how Ned had blanched when Littlefinger talked about the message he had withheld, that hellish love declaration of Lyanna. Ned had paled visible and had been caught unawares. 

Robert was sure Ned had not known that Lyanna had eloped with Prince Rhaegar. Ned was a bad liar and an even worse actor. He hadn’t known. You only had to consider the oath Ned swore immediately after the trial. That had been the only time Ned had been able to look him straight in the eye when they talked about dragons or a dragonrider. His friend wasn’t that far gone that he would vow on his loved ones and speak a lie. Robert was very sure that Lord Eddard Stark knew nothing about a son of Brandon, trueborn or bastard, who might have a claim to Winterfell. Ned had told the absolute truth about that at least. Robert was very sure about that. 

 

***

 

Varys adjusted his robes and waited for the King to arrive. He had been summoned to his Grace’s new study, a room that hadn’t existed until recently. The King had ordered a large desk to be moved to a room close to his sleeping quarters. A beautifully carved cabinet lined the wall close to the desk. Varys knew the King used it to store messages he kept from his Hand. His plan was working. The King was starting to distrust Lord Stark. He wondered why he was summoned so secretively by King Robert this time. The last time he had been tasked to keep the Hand of the King busy with trivial matters and away from Keep, had been so the King could meet with his scouts privately. Varys of course, his Master of Whisperers had been allowed to be present. 

He startled when the door opened rather abruptly and the King entered with big strides. He watched how Robert Baratheon circled the desk swiftly and sat down without further ado. Varys bowed deeply and waited to be seated until King Robert gave his permission.

“Lord Varys, please take seat. I have a few things I would like to discuss with you. But before we start, I must ask to keep everything that will be discussed here today a secret.” The King seemed very eager to start their meeting.

“That is the very definition of my position, your Grace.” Varys bowed his head once more and took the seat facing the desk. “I am the keeper of secrets and I serve at your pleasure.”

“Well before we start I must ask you something. Aside from all you told me that is happening in the North, do you think Lord Stark is doing a good job as my Hand? I must admit, I didn’t pay that much attention to the running of things when Jon Arryn held the position, but now with Lord Stark here, I have been more involved and in my opinion it appears that he is handling things well.”

“I already told you your Grace that we were all pleasantly surprised when you came back with two very reasonable laws that have been accepted well at court and amongst the smallfolk. You know we, I mean the small council of course, had our doubts when you decided to appoint Lord Stark as Hand of the King. Our argument that he had no knowledge of southern politics has been proved wrong on several occasions. He can be cunning and smart when it is needed and puts his honourable reputation to good use to strong-arm his opponents into doing the right thing. But,” Varys hesitated.

“But?” The King encouraged him to speak up. “This is just between the two of us. Just speak your mind, Lord Varys. I promise I won’t take offense. The worst I can do is attempt to persuade you that you have it wrong.”

Varys bowed his head in apparent reverence. “I fear he was used to running the North without opposition and he is applying this to the Seven Kingdoms even if he needs different tactics here to be in absolute control. Everywhere I look men of the North are in charge. If anyone really stands up to Lord Stark, will that person get a fair chance to state his case? What if you stood up to him, your Grace? Are you ruling the Seven Kingdoms? Who is making the decisions?”

“Normally I would say that making decisions is exactly what a Hand of the King should do. But perhaps we need to put Lord Stark to the test. What is he working on now?”

“I have been helping him to draw up the list with possible brides, your Grace. But for some reason he is stalling.”

The King rolled his eyes. “As if I hadn’t noticed that. Any idea why he is delaying?”

“Well, I can only state what I think. Although I am almost certain I have it right. My guess is that he really wants Lady Margaery to be your choice of bride but hesitates to put her at the top of the list so he is not too obvious. Then there is the issue with House Frey. He refuses to put any Freys on the list.” Varys was studying the King like a hawk to gauge the effect of his words.

“I know of House Tyrell’s ambitions and am considering Lady Margaery as a serious candidate. I cannot for the life of me see a reason why he would be ambiguous about that. And what about House Frey?” The King was getting impatient with the circumspect ways of the eunuch. 

“You see, Walder Frey has too many daughters and granddaughters that have already flowered and are in need of husbands. Believe it or not, I have it on good authority that some of them are rather comely. I have heard tell that a certain lady Roslin Frey is only a year or so older than the lady Margaery and rivals her in beauty. The only thing lady Roslin is lacking is the sharp tongue that lady Margaery possesses.”

Varys made a face at the King that spoke volumes. “Lady Olenna apparently has been schooling her granddaughter in her own image. I have heard whispers here at court, some even with my own ears. People are talking that there is a young Queen of Thorns in the making and are already feeling sorry for you. They fear you might marry yet another shrew.”

The King snorted losing the little decorum he had. He motioned Varys to continue.

“I have digressed, your Grace. Accept my apologies. You asked about the offer of House Frey. It is rather generous, if I am allowed to say so, your Grace. They offer you any bride, any Frey maiden of your own choosing and will give you her weight in gold as a dowry, including free passage through the Riverlands for anyone travelling with you or at your behest.” 

The King studied his Master of Whisperers closely. The eunuch kept his face as blank as if he was reciting the latest crop reports. _‘Is that what losing your manhood did to a man?’_

“That is very generous. A comely Frey you say? Does such a thing really exist? Where do you get that information, Lord Varys? How reliable is it really?” His voice betrayed his interest but he didn’t care. _’ It is absolutely normal to be interested in a comely young wife with a big dowry. I am still a man with a fully functioning manhood, thank the Seven Heavens!’_

“I get it from more than ten sources that are totally independent from each other. But you need not take my word for it. Lord Frey is willing to let you get acquainted with his most eligible daughters and granddaughters. You will only need to commit after seeing them and learning a bit about their characters and dispositions. If he lets you interact with one and you end up not choosing her, he only asks that you procure the unfortunate lady a noble husband.” An impassive Varys explained.

“That can easily be done. Why is Lord Stark hesitating then?” Robert frowned thinking his friend was really not impartial in this matter. Varys’s next words proved this to be true.

“House Frey has been in open conflict with House Tully as you well know, your Grace. Lord Stark is putting the interest of his good family before the interest of his King, before the interest of the realm. I am sure he has the noblest intentions and it shows in the fact that he struggles with completing the list. I must warn you though that I have seen him act this way a few times already. Lord Stark is first and foremost a wolf of the North who protects his pack. He considers his wife’s family as part of his pack.”

“Damnit, Ned!” The King cursed out loud this time. “Are you sure though? He knows I am still troubled by the role House Frey played in Littlefinger’s schemes. Can that not be why Lord Stark hesitates? He paused and stared out the window to consider his options. 

Seeing Lord Varys on the brink of breaking the silence from the corner of his eyes, he faced him again and gave his Master of Whisperers permission to speak. “What is your opinion, Lord Varys? How do you propose I should act?”

“Why do you not search for a bride yourself, your Grace? Why let your Hand handle this? It is a personal matter as well, not only a political one. Think of the things you could do with all that gold if you accepted it personally. Let me draft a letter to Walder Frey stating you will contact him as soon as your annulment has been granted. I can alter the terms of his proposal slightly so you cannot be blackmailed by the old conniver.”

He cleared his throat before elaborating. “We all know Walder Frey’s reputation. Let’s tell him you will keep all options open. In the event that you should end up marrying a noble lady of another house, promise him you will see to it personally that two of his female dependents will find a noble husband. You can add the incentive that your Grace will attend their wedding personally.” Varys’ tone was no longer neutral, for once his voice had taken on a more persuasive character.

The Kings face brightened. “Excellent, Lord Varys. That will certainly soothe the old weasel. You have my permission to contact him immediately. Now why do you think the annulment is taking this much time?”

“It has not taken much time in terms of the Citadel and the way Septons and Archmaesters handle things. You can’t hurry a Septon and putting pressure on the Citadel will only result in the Archmaesters delaying things on purpose. Let’s wait another two moons before taking formal action. In the meantime I will use my influence subtly. I have a contact at the Citadel who might be able to help. Leave it to me, your Grace. Just be patient. What are a few more moons for a man who still has more than thirty years to sire children? Perhaps even fifty if you look at Walder Frey’s achievements.” Varys now used his most earnest yet subservient expression.

The King waved with his hand to indicate the matter was closed for now. “What about the other assignments I gave you? Have your spies found out more about the Northern Fleet? Is it true there has been a clash with the Ironborn?”

“There has indeed been a minor altercation at the Stony Shore, but as often is the way of the simple folk, they have embellished the story to have something to enjoy around their campfires at night. Life is dreary that far north, your Grace. As to the other matter, the North has developed a rather large fleet at White Harbour. It has been used to increase trade with Pentos. You know the North cannot provide enough food to see to their needs come winter. I heard they tried to establish trade relations with the Reach first but I gather that lady Olenna for some reason is not cooperating.” Varys once more kept his voice matter of fact and his expression blank.

“So all the ships that are reported passing the Fingers are heading for Pentos?” The King frowned disbelievingly.

“I would think so.” Varys made a show of acting a bit shocked.

“Your Grace, surely you are not accusing the North of trying to occupy King’s Landing? In the unlikely event that House Stark was capable of turning against their King, the only plausible move for the North would be to close itself off from the Seven Kingdoms and declare their independence.” He paused to emphasize his words before continuing.

“I realise the Starks of old have been Kings of Winter and there were several natural born leaders and ambitious men amongst them, but Lord Eddard Stark is not one of them. I know I am not his greatest advocate, but that is precisely why. Your Hand is too honourable, has hardly any ambition and is too rigid to make a good ruler. Besides, I pride myself that I can detect power hungry men. Eddard Stark does not covet your throne for himself. I am willing to sacrifice my right hand if I am wrong.” 

The King’s frown didn’t leave his face. If anything, it got more pronounced. “I am not that sure Varys. You said it yourself before, here at the capital, his armed forces outnumber us. Their leaders are loyal to him first, only second to their King. The possibility of a Northern Fleet so close to King’s Landing worries me.”

“Your Grace, let me work on that. I will try to get more Baratheon men at court and in the city. I will contact some of your bannerman in the Crownlands and find some pretext to lure them here without alerting anyone, certainly not Lord Stark, to the real reason for their presence.”

“A tournament!” The King exclaimed, all concerns momentarily forgotten in his enthusiasm for this new idea. “Let’s hold a tournament.”

“That could be one solution though a rather costly one. Let me look into it. We will have to involve your Hand in the organisation of such a big event.” Varys cautioned.

“I don’t care. Let us hold a tournament no matter the reason. It has been too long. And make sure that nobles from everywhere attend and let them bring their daughters. But more importantly see to it that my brother attends as well. Stannis never bothers to write me. Renly for all his frivolous ways at least sent regular report to me. Now I know nothing about the state of my Keep nor my bastard.” 

Robert still regarded Storm’s End as his. He also couldn’t help feeling some affinity for Edric Storm. Even if the boy was a bastard, his bastard, the child’s mother had been a fine woman. The King’s gaze had wandered away from Varys and he found himself staring out of the window not really seeing anything but the beautiful blue eyes of Lady Delena Florent. 

It had been a short affair but because of the boy, he had never forgotten about her as he had so easily forgotten about the countless ladies of high birth he had seduced in his wilder years. Those had been some of his best years. How could he have known that he wouldn’t enjoy begin King of all of Westeros half as much of the excitement of chasing after a beautiful maiden or a more experienced woman for that matter. 

He rubbed his forehead and forced himself to concentrate on their discussion. Turning his eyes back on Varys who was waiting patiently for his King, the very picture of a most devoted subject, he asked. “Have you finally heard back from the scouts we sent to Storm’s End?”

“I am afraid not, your Grace. We have sent several on separate occasions. None have returned and I fear the worst. I suspect the rumours are true and your brother has a red priestess with him who is something akin to a greenseer. I can’t think of another explanation. We have send scouts, little birds and even a noble Lord and another red Priest. Nobody has reported back. It is a very strange situation.”

“Then I will formally order Stannis to the capital. Even my brother is not allowed to refuse a royal command. If he doesn’t obey …”

“You can’t threaten to disinherit him, your Grace, forgive me for interrupting. Not unless you want to reinstate Prince Renly. For the moment you are out of options. He is your only viable heir for now.” Varys explained patiently.

“Damnit!” The King once more forgot his manners and cursed. “I forgot about the consequences of that unfortunate business. That reminds me, the Tyrell boy is still under the supervision of House Stark. I really need to know what is up with Lord Stark. I need to know whether I can trust him or not. Is he just being naive or is he advancing the northern cause using my resources? I need to know sooner rather than later.”

“Let me talk to the Lord Hand, your Grace. If that doesn’t work, you summon him. Let him know you are the King and air your grievances to his face. If you are not satisfied with his reaction, either dismiss him or curb his authority. Just tell him that from now on, all decisions are to be ratified by your Grace, be it political, economic or financial ones and most important of all make it clear that the choice of a new Queen is your decision and yours alone. I am leaning towards giving Lord Stark the benefit of the doubt, all matters considered. He might not be the best choice for Hand, but he is an honourable man. He will do what he thinks is just.” Varys gave this advice with a straight face.

“Unless he thinks I am not ‘just’.” The King mumbled between his teeth, he suddenly felt drained of all energy. “Perhaps we better leave it at this, Lord Varys. I need to think on all this some more.”

Varys ignored the King’s sigh. “As you wish, your Grace. I have my work carved out for me anyway.” 

“Then get to it, Lord Varys. I will keep Ned busy with organising the tournament.” A slightly revived Robert Baratheon ordered. Another hand gesture signaled the end of the interview.

“It will be done as you ordered, your Grace. You can give him that assignment at our next meeting of the small council.” Varys bowed low and left the room, pleased with all the little hints and manipulations he had been able to drop into the conversation.

 

***

 

Ned’s head was aching. He was prone to headaches these last few sennights. He blamed it on the stress and the lack of sleep. Why were things going this slow? Jon should claim the throne and be done with it. Once King of Westeros, he could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against the White Walkers if necessary. He tried to keep his face blank. He would not do to let the nobles see a troubled Hand of the King. They would find a way to take advantage of the smallest weakness he showed. 

He answered a nod from the delegation of the Riverlands that had arrived with a few eligible maidens. He saw a representative from House Bracken sitting not far from Lord Blackwood and hoped that Lord Lyman Darry was savvy enough to keep the peace between both Houses.

He focussed his attention on the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall to see if more Targaryen loyalists had arrived. He and Varys were working on getting as much support for Jon within the city walls and lord Darry was one of the most recent arrivals. Things were moving along nicely but each day he spent being the King’s Hand was one too many as far as he was concerned. 

Tomorrow morning he had a private meeting with the King. Varys had warned him he would need to defend each decision he had made since arriving in the capital. Someone had been poisoning the King against him. He had even given Ned leave to cast suspicion on Varys if he had no other way of convincing the King of his loyalty. He would never resort to that though. Varys’ head could roll if Ned used him to save himself.

He saw Robert was talking to Mace Tyrell and hoped they were not discussing lady Margaery’s chances to become Queen in such a public setting. Things had been strained between him and Robert lately. Varys was right. He needed to keep to King’s ear for now. His first priority was to help his nephew’s cause. _‘Keep that in mind when you deal with Robert Baratheon. It will help your conscience.’_ Had been Varys’ exact words. As if Ned didn’t repeat a similar mantra in his head several times a day already.

He turned to his left to deliver some empty compliment to a lady from House Waynwood who was partnered with him for the evening. Luckily she was not very talkative and left him in peace most of the time. 

“Music!” the King bellowed suddenly as he rose from his chair. Apparently his Grace had finished eating and was in want of entertainment. “Someone fetch a minstrel. Let’s bring some liveliness to this Great Hall. I decree that every noble present here tonight dances at least one dance with his table partner.”

Ned sighed but raised his cup to toast to his King. The empty seat between the two of them was the ceremonial place for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and was empty at the time. The King sat next to Olenna Tyrell. Ned wondered if the King would follow his own edict and dance with the old shrew. “To your Grace’s health!”

The King bowed his head slightly in thanks but answered “To yours as well, Ned.”

“In fact,” he addressed the room at large now. “Lord Stark will open proceedings and dance with Lady Waynwood. Only when the minstrel starts the chorus are the others allowed to follow my Hand’s excellent example.” 

The King raised his cup and answered Ned’s toast. “To our health!” Robert stopped drinking only when his cup was empty. He put it down with an exaggerated thump and ordered loud enough for everyone to hear. “More wine! Servants, fill everyone’s cups! Everyone will toast to our health!”

 _‘Perhaps the rumours were true.’_ Ned mused. Varys had told him that the King had fallen in love with a whore freshly arrived in the capital. According to Varys, the girl had been a maiden when she was brought to Robert and that the King was convinced that the young girl had fallen for him and considered him _‘her King and master’._

He rose from the table and held his hand out to Lady Waynwood when the minstrel started to play.  
He repressed a sigh. _‘It would be a long evening.’_

 

***

 

**The next morning in the King’s study**

“Sit down, Ned. What do you think of my new quarters?” It was indeed the first time Ned had been summoned to this room. When he had passed the Baratheon guard in the hallway, he had realised that this was the room Varys had described to him earlier. A few days ago, Varys had informed him King Robert had a place where he conducted business that he kept a secret from his Hand. 

“It looks the part, your Grace.” Ned deliberately used the more formal greeting more suitable to the state of their current relationship. He studied Robert closely and saw the King looked more relaxed than before. Perhaps he had spent another lovely night. Ned could only dream of female company and if he was honest, he had felt the lack of it keenly these last few sennights and even more now in the presence of a clearly satiated King. He waited for Robert to sit down before he took the chair facing the expensive looking desk.

“It does, doesn’t it? I really do look the part of a King who is taking matters in hand, don’t I? That is what I wanted to talk to you today, Ned.” 

Ned steeled himself. Despite the cordial tone with which these words had been uttered, their meaning was clear. “Do you mean to say you will not need a Hand any longer? Or are you curbing my responsibilities, your Grace?” Ned asked stiffly.

Robert sighed and ran a hand through his beard. “Ned, what happened to us? What happened to our dream of ruling the Seven Kingdoms together?”

“That has always been your dream, uh your Grace. I was quite content in the North.” Ned had almost addressed him as Robert. He had uttered that last question sounding so much as his former friend, the friend he had loved like a brother all those years ago. He hadn’t expected that side of Robert to appear today. He had prepared himself for an entirely different confrontation after being warned by Varys.

“Then why accept the position?” The King fixed him with an intense stare. Apparently this was the question Robert really wanted the answer to.

“Because my King asked it from me. Because Lord Arryn died and I trusted no one in that position of power so close to you. If I had known of another reliable candidate to help you, I would have tried to steer you in that direction, your Grace.” Ned hoped he had stuck the right tone. He feared it was not the case when he saw the King getting all worked up.

“Damnit Ned! Why can’t you just tell me the real reason? And why have I become ‘your Grace’ again in private? Why can’t you just tell me what happened at the trial to make you change your attitude so drastically. Is someone strong-arming you?” The King leaned forward, his blue Baratheon eyes piercing his friend’s eyes. 

Ned knew Robert would not back down this time but made one last desperate attempt anyway.  
“Robert? To what are you referring? Have I not always served you to the best of my abilities?”

“Stop pretending, Ned. I know you. And even if I didn’t, you can’t lie for the life of you. At least not to me, someone has known you since forever. Ever since the trial you cannot keep far enough away from me. You cannot even look at me most of the time. How long has it been since we’ve been alone in a room together long enough to have a real conversation? And do not dare to give the excuse that you have been busy handling my affairs. I offered you more than once to handle all of them together.”

Ned sighed and felt the guilt that festered in his gut intensify. He tried one of his prepared statements. “I thought that was your way of saying I was not doing a good enough job and doubled my efforts to please you, your Grace.”

“If I hear one more _‘your Grace’_ out of you, you are dismissed, Ned!” Robert almost shouted now. He deflated a bit and settled himself back in his original position leaning his body against the high backside of his cosy chair. 

Robert took a deep breath and his voice resumed his normal volume.  
“I give you one last chance to come clean. I have been far more lenient with you than with anyone else ever, Ned. If you don’t tell me the truth today, you can go back and hide once more in your dreary North for all I care. I will find someone else or rule the damn things myself. I have the desk for it now.”

When Ned didn’t respond immediately, the King softened his voice and tried another approach. His eyes pleaded with his friend when he asked him again. 

“What happened, Ned? I still recall you helping me cope with the aftermath of the trial, the shock we both suffered when Littlefinger revealed hmmm. Well no need to repeat that. What I meant to say is that we had such a nice hunt afterwards. We connected again, Ned. For the first time in a long time, I felt that bond again, our brotherly bond that snapped when I ascended the throne.”

“It was not a single thing that happened, Robert.” Ned finally replied. Robert’s sincere tone had struck a chord and he wanted more time to gather his thoughts. Robert was really getting to him. He opted to stay as truthful as possible. 

“There were my own doubts, for one. I hear the rumours about my alleged incompetence, I am not deaf Robert. But I must confess that it was the mention of the alleged dragonrider that rattled me and made me question everything again. The possible existence of another Targaryen reminded me of what happened to Prince Rhaegar’s children.”

His eyes briefly met Robert’s before looking back to his hands that he tried to keep still in his lap. 

”You know now that Prince Rhaegar did not offend our houses in the way we thought. He did not rape my sister. For all we know Lyanna, it might have been all her doing. She might have fancied herself in love and seduced the Prince. He did the honourable thing and married her, Robert. Lysa revealed it all. He married her in a Godswood which is really significant for us Northerners. Even though a Septon was present to make it official in the eyes of the Seven, Prince Rhaegar loved her enough to indulge her wishes.” Ned swallowed thickly at the reminder.

“After the trial, Lysa swore to me that the letter contained Lyanna’s description of how the Prince loved her very much and how he did everything to protect her and make her happy. She probably died because she was alone, unhappy and widowed in a strange place. I know she died of illness but perhaps she would have fought harder if Prince Rhaegar had still been alive.” 

Ned coughed a few times to find his voice again which had grown hoarser with every word he uttered. He sat back up again and looked into Robert’s eyes that had darkened. 

“I do not blame you for his death. Do not mistake me. That is what happens in a war. But mention of a dragonrider reminded me of the deaths of the Prince’s wife and his small children. They didn’t deserve that. And now if there really was a young dragonrider, someone with Valyrian or even Targaryen blood, I am scared of what you might do to him or her. I am scared that history will repeat itself.” Ned looked back down no longer able to face Robert’s conflicted expression.

A long silence ensued.

Then Robert spoke in a very calm manner but his voice sounded ominous. “I would have every right to harm that dragonrider if he threatened my throne, my Kingdoms.”

“Would you have that right?” Ned challenged him, his tone very grave. He looked up and sat a bit straighter. 

“Hypothetically speaking, suppose Targaryen loyalists had been able to switch baby Aegon, when they feared the city would fall, would you have been able to tell the difference after the Mountain was done with mutilating the baby? Just suppose that baby Prince Aegon was smuggled out of King’s Landing. That small child would be an adult by now. Imagine for a moment that he is the dragonrider. Is your claim really superior to Prince Rhaegar’s trueborn son, keeping in mind that the Prince didn’t commit the crimes he was accused of?”

Ned looked up briefly up, but averted his eyes when he saw Robert’s somewhat ill-disposed expression. He summoned his courage and did continue his line of reasoning.

“If all that were true, would the honourable thing not be to give up your throne to that young Prince? Is it still right to call Prince Rhaegar’s children dragonspawn? It was the Mad King we wanted to depose in the first place. Not Prince Rhaegar. Hells, we were willing to help him claim the throne. What would you do, Robert? Still hypothetically speaking of course. Can you put my mind at rest and reassure me that history won’t repeat itself and that I would not have to estrange myself from my best friend once more?”

Another long silence fell over the room. Both men avoided looking at one another, each deep in their own thoughts.

“You raise a difficult question, Ned.” Robert finally replied. “To be honest, I do not know what I would do. But luckily that possibility you just described, me having to abdicate in favour of Prince Rhaegar’s trueborn son will never present itself. You see, little baby Aegon had a birth mark on his left foot. I checked Ned. I am no fool.” Not a sliver of guilt or doubt was present in the King’s demeanour when he uttered these words. 

Ned tried to hide how displeased he was with Robert’s answer. He was still mulling over the right response without revealing too much when the King spoke up again. 

“Now it is your turn to be truthful. Are you in any way threatening my throne? Do you want more power? Or do you want to become King in the North again like your ancestors before the Targaryens united the Seven Kingdoms?” Robert spoke these accusations with an unyielding expression in his eyes. He had put both hands on his desk and was leaning forward to further intimidate his friend.

Ned did his best to look insulted. “If you really believe such a thing to be possible, I will resign this instant. I do not want more power. I have enough headaches as it is. I do not want the North to become independent. We need the other Kingdoms’ resources come winter and Northern independence would only be good for my people if the North still entertained amicable relations with the other Kingdoms. As for threatening your rule, I would only ask you to step down if you became an unjust King harming his subjects on purpose or if someone showed up that had a rightful claim to the throne, a claim superior to yours.” 

Ned stood up, ready to leave. “If that is all, _your Grace.”_ He emphasized his last two words.

Robert rose from his chair. “Sit back down, Ned! You are not dismissed yet! You will not leave this room until we have either learned to live and work together again, or until we have both reached the _mutual_ decision that it is better to part ways. But even if we decide the latter, you will still take up your mantle of Warden of the North again and help your old friend with keeping the peace in that part of his Kingdoms.” 

Robert sat back down and took a few deep breaths. When he was a bit calmer, he tried to appeal to his friend’s common sense. 

“We are no longer snot-nosed little brats. We are two intelligent adults who once upon a time were closer than brothers. There must be a way to rekindle that relationship. It is my dearest wish.”

“It is my wish as well, Robert.” Ned reluctantly took his seat in front of the desk again. 

“Unfortunately, things are not that simple as they were when we lived at the Vale where our biggest issue was avoiding the wrath of Lord Arryn.” A small smile flittered over his face at the memory.  
“I am who I am, Robert. I am true to my word or try to be as best I can. I can only respect you as my King if you do not harm the people unjustly and if your claim to the throne is legitimate.” 

Ned studied his friend and attempted to hide once more how troubled he was, how conflicted. He tried to repeat his mantra in his head. But it was not easy with Robert sitting in front of him like that to recall that he could only serve one King and that that was Jon. He almost startled when Robert responded to his last words.

“Let us compromise then. I will reserve the right to defend myself against pretenders, dragonriders or anyone else that threatens my throne and my people without a rightful claim. If ever Targaryens show up in Westeros, I will not have them murdered just because they carry the name of their house. I will arrest them and we will find a suitable way to deal with them together. History will not repeat itself!” 

He stressed that last sentence by raising his voice a bit. He then went on in a normal volume but his determination was apparent by the emphasis he put on his next words.

“I will not tolerate pretenders though and I will not entertain the thought of marrying the Princess Daenerys in case you might get that idea in that stubborn honourable head of yours. I cannot erase years of hatred against House Targaryen just like that. It might be the rational thing to do knowing all that we know now but I am human after all. To repeat your own words _‘I am who I am’_ , Ned.” 

“Fair enough. Where do we go from here, Robert?” Ned asked resigned to the fact that this was as good a promise as he would get today.

Ned and Robert gazed at each other, earnest blue eyes meeting questioning grey ones.

“We rule together, you as Hand, I as King. I can overrule you but as promised before, death sentences will only be carried out if we both agree on them. That is a very significant concession I grant you Ned. I make it to my friend, not to my Hand. Do you accept?”

This time Ned didn’t hesitate. “I accept, Robert. Let us start again and let matters progress naturally. I have the best interest of the Seven Kingdoms in mind.”

“Then the matter is settled.” Robert looked closely at his friend’s honourable face. 

“As a friend Ned, let me give you some advice. First of all be wary around some of our advisers. Not all of them have your best interests at heart. And second, you should loosen up somewhat. Enjoy the bit of spare time you have. I am feeling much better lately, much more relaxed and as a consequence I see matters more clearly. A bit of female company might help you there.”

Robert held up his hand to stall his friend from protesting. “I didn’t mean it that way, there are other ways to enjoy female company. But then again, why not ask Lady Catelyn to come to King’s Landing. Total abstinence is not healthy, Ned. We are still full blooded males in the prime of our life, aren’t we? Your right hand might get injured if you use it too frequently. It is more rewarding if a soft female hand, or a warm mouth handles your appendix, you must know that by now.” 

Robert made an internal bet Ned would make a beeline for the door now and he was right.

“On that note it is time I retired, or do you have some business of state we need to discuss before the small council meeting that is scheduled for tomorrow.” Ned was halfway to the door when Robert answered.

“Well, perhaps I should forewarn you I intend to give you a big assignment during the course of that meeting.” Robert taunted his friend with a twinkle in his eyes. “A tournament Ned! You must organise the greatest tournament King’s Landing has seen in many years.”

 

***

 

Ned went to his room, mentally exhausted after the talk with Robert. He had tried to stay true to Jon’s cause, but what a fine line had he been forced to walk. He cursed the circumstances that made it necessary that he was the one destined to play this duplicitous part. He needed to visit to the Godswood. He needed to ease his conscience at least a little bit. Why could the Gods not give them a clear timeline? It would make things more bearable if he knew when exactly he would be released from this burden. 

If his nephew ever asked him to become Hand of the King he would refuse. He had enough of southern politics to last him a lifetime. Even if he grew as old as Maester Aemon or Walder Frey, he would never be put in such a position again if he could help it. He was ready to return to his beloved North. 

He would give almost anything to be back at Winterfell, see his children that he missed more every day and bed his wife whose body he craved. Robert was right. It was difficult sleeping alone night after night and he frequently used his right hand and imagined his bed in Winterfell and the warm naked body of his wife when she was in one of her passionate moods. Gods, it really would help him if he knew how long it still was before he could return. Perhaps Catelyn could come to King’s Landing if they found someone suitable to care for the children in the meanwhile?”

He would visit the Godswood or what passed for one here in King’s Landing and then hopefully he would feel better and start a long letter to send home. Not a message but a long letter with separate scrolls for each of his children and he would send them together with some small gifts with one of his own ships. With all the goings on here in King’s Landing and with Jon’s looming presence on Dragonstone, he had neglected his loved ones at Winterfell and Bran at Greywater Watch.

A knock on his door startled him. “Enter,” he called out, the dismay of being disturbed clearly recognisable in his voice. He was too tired to face whatever the person at the other side of the door wanted from him.

“An urgent message from Winterfell, my Lord.” Jory Cassel didn’t offer an apology for his obvious unwelcome interruption.  
“Just look at the seal, my Lord. I think you will want to read it straight away.”

Ned sighed and opened the message written in his brother’s hand after checking the seal. He paled and kept staring at the scroll his eyes widening in horror. 

Everyone okay at Winterfell?” Jory had witnessed Lord Stark’s reactions with growing concern.

“Jory, fetch our own raven keeper. I need to send an urgent message to Dragonstone.”

“On it, my Lord.” He headed for the door but turned to look at his liege Lord in the doorway, a silent plea for information in his loyal eyes.

“It is Robb. My son has been taken hostage by the Boltons.” Lord Stark answered the unspoken question. “Hurry!”

 

 

**Interlude 24: A puzzle**

 

Tyrion entered the small room where they now broke their fast every morning. It was one of the first things he had changed when they tried to live a life as normal as possible at Casterly Rock. The room had a window in the east wall and most mornings the sun shone right upon the table where Tommen and Myrcella broke their fast in his company. He had always hated the pompous state room where his father had insisted they take every meal, even the informal morning meals.

His niece and nephew had adapted to their new lives seamlessly as children are often wont to do. Even though it was perhaps no longer right to call them children. Myrcella had recently celebrated her sixteenth nameday, Tommen was only four years her junior. 

They looked happy enough. Little did they know they were on house arrest. The Maester who supervised the teachers he had hired for them gave Tyrion excellent reports and he had not witnessed a major quarrel between the siblings. They got along nicely and kept each other company even though they had different interests. 

Myrcella would sit in a corner when Tommen got his sword training lessons, either reading some book or embroidering a piece of cloth. He partnered her when she insisted on more dancing lessons even though Tyrion knew Tommen hated dancing. He accompanied her to the small market inside the castle walls and they often went riding or hiking together. If Myrcella sometimes complained to her uncle she got another blister, she still indulged Tommen the next time he asked her to go on another hike. 

It was not much of a burden to be responsible for them. He only needed to see to it that they did not venture beyond the borders of the lands belonging directly to the castle. They were the most lovable children he had ever known. And he was sure they would still be when they got used to living at the Rock and no longer clang to each other’s company for dear life.

He loved hearing them make plans every morning. It made him feel less guilty for acceding to Lord Stark’s demands so readily. Seeing his niece and nephew interact made it all worthwhile. He would see to it they still had a future no matter the cost to his honour or to the family name. His father would turn around in his grave if he knew Tyrion valued happiness higher than his assembled power and the Lannister reputation. 

Tyrion mentally shook his head. Either his father wasn’t dead yet or if he was he didn’t have a grave worthy of the name. So turning around in his grave was probably too much to ask of the man that sired him against his will. He was glad Tommen and Myrcella entered the small room so he could forget about his absentee father for now and go back to pretending he had never existed in the first place.

“Uncle, will you come along today when we go see that new foal that was born yesterday? You promised us you would?” Tommen who had celebrated his twelfth nameday more than six moons ago looked like a six year old when he pouted.

Myrcella laughed. “He cannot say no, Tommen. He promised the stable boy he would thank him personally and bring him a small gift in the event he managed to save both mother and foal when he assisted the merry in giving birth. And you know what they say …” 

‘A Lannister always pays his debts.’ Both siblings finished the sentence and Tyrion chimed in on the last part as well. They all exchanged smiles.

“How can I refuse the request of my favourite niece and nephew?” He sobered though reminding himself that Tommen had not always been his only nephew and that perhaps the old joke was now in bad taste.

His charges however did not seem bothered and laughed heartily. “Can I offer you another oatcake, Uncle Tyrion?” Myrcella held the plate with deliciously smelling cakes in front of him.

“Thank you Myrcella. You are a godsend, you both are.” He accepted a small cake. 

He cursed himself for his sudden maudlin mood. Tommen and Myrcella were happy. Why disturb them. It was not their fault they hardly missed their parents, nor Joffrey nor _Uncle_ Jaime. None of them had ever given the children much attention. Tommen and Myrcella were practically raised by servants and had lived at the royal court where they had to behave much more circumspect than here at the Rock. Here they already felt much more at home and Tyrion gave him all the attention he could spare when he was not dealing with the trouble of keeping the Rock solvent. 

“Let us go after lunch, though. I still need to take care of some business before I have some leisure time. Besides, do you not have lessons to attend to?” He gently reminded them of their duties.

“Yes Uncle.” They answered in unison and smiled at each other.

 

***

 

Tyrion sat in his solar and waited for Bronn to arrive. The Maester had just retired to his own study after discussing some small matters and had left a few personal messages for the Lord of Casterly Rock. One was marked with the secret seal that Lord Stark had showed him. He wondered when Eddard Stark would reveal his real purpose. Tyrion was close to figuring it out but knew something was eluding him. Things still didn’t add up. He still missed an important piece of the puzzle. He would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did. He was much closer to figuring it out than he had been that fateful afternoon at Winterfell.

 

**Flashback: Winterfell, some time after Bran’s incident at the old tower**

“You summoned me, Lord Stark?” Tyrion had entered the solar of the Lord of Winterfell curious to know what might be so urgent. Winterfell had felt empty. Almost everyone had left to join the hunt and although he had not been up when the party left, he knew that Lord Stark had led the party personally. He had overheard two servants gossip in the hallway debating over who had looked the most handsome, the Lord or his heir. 

“I did. Thank you me for joining me so swiftly. Sit down, Lord Tyrion. We have a lot to discuss.”  
Lord Stark had looked rather pale. But Tyrion had not paid attention to it at the time. He had only been disappointed that Lord Stark had not seen fit to offer him any wine. At that time that was one of the things that shaped his days. How his life had changed after the royal visit to Winterfell.

“Your guard didn’t leave me much of a choice, my Lord. He was a bit high handed. I might want to complain if I was a man who was easily offended.” He climbed awkwardly upon the chair that was rather high for his stature.

“Well, I am afraid that this talk won’t lift your spirits if they are already down, Lord Tyrion. But enough with the niceties. The situation is dire and we need to come to a consensus the two of us to stave off more disaster.” Lord Stark’s had uttered, his voice grave.

“My Lord?” Tyrion had immediately become alert, knowing Lord Stark was not prone to exaggeration. “Is there a problem I can assist you with?”

“It is not me that has a problem, Lord Tyrion. It is you, or more precisely House Lannister. The Queen and your brother have been caught, how shall I put it, in compromising circumstances in the old tower. Their, and I do not misspeak, their bastards’ lives are in jeopardy as are the lives of your siblings.” The Lord of Winterfell had stated this in the same grave tone.

“What happened? What do you mean?” Lord Tyrion’s brain had been working overtime then. He had guessed full well what had been discovered but had needed to stall for time to find a way to get everyone to safety.

“My son, Bran discovered both of them in the old tower. He likes climbing you see. Your brother’s solution was to try and murder the only witness and pushed Bran from the tower.” Lord Stark’s tone had been outright condemning. His dark grey eyes had not concealed the contempt he felt for Ser Jaime’s deed.

Tyrion had gasped, immediately grasping that the situation was even more serious than by his first estimation. “I hope the little Lord was wearing his climbing gear and is all right?” He had asked showing his honest concern for the boy’s wellbeing.

Lord Stark had looked surprised at Tyrion sincere tone and that he had been aware of his surroundings to know about Bran’s tools. Tyrion surmised the Lord had hardly seen him during that visit except at meals half in his cups. 

“He is all right, but that doesn’t excuse the actions of your brother. He clearly intended to murder my son. You do realise it is not my wrath alone you should fear, Lord Tyrion. How do you reckon the King will react when he hears his wife has been cuckolding him with her twin brother almost from the very first moment they were married and that the rumours that he has no trueborn children are true? The matter cannot be concealed. There are witnesses.”

Tyrion had of course realised that and was already been thinking two steps ahead. He had needed more information and quickly before the hunting party would eventually return. “Where are my siblings and my niece and nephews, if I may ask, my Lord? I guess the King has not yet returned from the hunt?”

“Your siblings are unharmed for the time being. They are locked up in the old tower. Your niece and youngest nephew are safe inside the castle. I have put them under the protection of Lady Brienne and Lord Tyrell. Prince Joffrey, or should I call him Joffrey Waters is still enjoying the hunt.”

Tyrion had stayed silent after receiving that information. He had realised their future was destroyed. Joffrey would never be King but that aspect didn’t bother him as much. That was actually for the best. However, sweet Tommen’s and Myrcella’s lives were over as well. He didn’t mind the fact that he might lose everything as well. He was used to being despised because he had been born a dwarf. He would make do one way or another. 

Tommen and Myrcella on the other hand had lived so sheltered and pampered. They were in for a rude awakening if they were allowed to live. That last thought had made him look up at Lord Stark, the panic barely concealed in his mismatched eyes. “Tommen and Myrcella are innocent.” It had come out as a desperate plea despite his best efforts.

“I will not let anyone hurt them.” Lord Stark’s resolute voice had calmed him immediately.

“Let me reassure you, Lord Tyrion. I will not let anyone harm them. I am willing to face the wrath of my King if need be. If he orders them to be killed, I would have you flee with them before anyone gets a chance to hurt one hair on their heads. And I include Joffrey in this statement as well. I am sure it was an oversight due to the circumstances and not an intentional slight towards your eldest nephew.” Lord Stark had studied him closely and Tyrion had tried not to flinch. 

He had kept his voice firm. “Indeed. And what do you ask in return for your help, Lord Stark? I reckon I will owe you?”

“I fear some sacrifice will be required of you. But most of these sacrifices will be made to convince the King that House Lannister will pose no threat to his rule. I asked you here so we could come up with a plan to contain the King’s ire as much as possible and to make sure that most of you can leave Winterfell alive. I know you have a big brain in that small body of yours Lord Tyrion. Now is the time to put it to use. What do we tell the King, how do we make sure your niece and nephews still have a semblance of a life after all of this?”

To Lord Tyrion’s amazement they had put together a feasible plan and it had all worked out in the end. They hadn’t needed to use the contingency plan where he stole away as a thief in the night with the three children of his siblings. Lord Stark had amazed him on several occasions. He had known about the Stark honour and the reputation of his house but that were just words. He had witnessed that honour and sense of justice at work and had been full of admiration for the current Lord of Winterfell. 

Even when Eddard Stark had demanded that Lord Tyrion as regent of the Westerlands and temporarily head of House Lannister in the absence of Lord Tywin Lannister signed away all the crown debts and vowed not to fight the annulment of the marriage between his sister and the King nor the removal of their children from the line of succession, Tyrion had easily convinced himself that the lives of the children were worth that sacrifice. 

Stark had further demanded that Lord Tyrion would only deal with local politics and not interfere in matters of the realm. Even if the King made the decision to appoint a new Warden of the West, Lord Tyrion would not fight that either. The only assurance he gave him was that the personally property of House Lannister, the Keep, the ground belonging to it including the gold mines would still be his. He gave is oath as a Stark that he could pull that off. And so it had happened. House Lannister still owned Casterly Rock and everything that came with it.

But then the tone of the conversation had changed. Lord Stark had become more mysterious and they had discussed things that never could be repeated before the Lord of Winterfell granted him permission. He had hinted he would soon have the power to control the children’s’ fate and promised to see to it that they would be legalised and that the realm would recognise them as trueborn Lannisters. 

The ‘honourable’ Eddard Stark had even hinted that somehow Robert’s reign might be doomed. If Lord Tyrion swore fealty to him in secret here and now he would see to it that as soon as power switched hands, House Lannister but more specifically Lord Tyrion would be reinstated as Warden of the West and that Tommen would be the next Lord Lannister and his heir. 

If ever Tywin Lannister miraculously returned, he would no longer have a claim to the titles and assets of House Lannister. Tywin Lannister would be stripped of his titles and possessions as punishment for former misdeeds. Lord Tyrion didn’t need to worry about the details. Lord Stark would also do his utmost to negotiate excellent matches for Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey should make his own way in life, the powerful Lord had stated without blushing. 

And so his life had changed. Tyrion had left Winterfell by the grace of King Robert and had been allowed to take his surviving niece and nephew with him. The death of Joffrey had been a bit of a relief if he was entirely honest with himself. The last night he had spoken to the spoiled brat still gave him nightmares. The little bastard had sealed his own fate when he attacked the King. Anyway he had left the Northern stronghold and had been ordered to take the Lannister contingent that had accompanied the royal caravan with him as well. 

He had a letter to from Lord Stark addressed to the Lords of the North and the Riverlands in his pocket granting him and his retinue safe passage as long as they were headed south towards the Rock. The journey home had taken only half the time compared to how long the pompous journey north had lasted, even if they had been slowed down by the wagon carrying the remains of his deceased nephew. 

He had spent a lot of time on the road wondering at the words and the promise Lord Stark had extorted from him. But he would give it again gladly if it meant Tommen and Myrcella would receive a good chance at a decent live. No matter how they were sired, they were his niece and nephew and he loved them dearly. He only hoped Lord Stark could live up to his promises and keep Jaime and Cersei alive. No matter what had happened, they were still his siblings.

Lord Stark had even let him talk to Jaime one last time. He had hardly recognised the golden lion when he had seen the dejected man that had barely greeted him when he had entered the tower where the twins had been caught and that served now as Jaime’s prison cell. Cersei had been incarcerated elsewhere but Tyrion had not asked to say goodbye to her. She would probably have ignored him and he wouldn’t have known what to say to her anyway.

It had taken some time before he got through to Jaime. When he finally had done so, his older brother had cried in Tyrion’s lap.  
“I am so sorry Tyrion. I am so sorry. If only I could take it all back.”

“Well you can’t.” Tyrion had remarked awkwardly not familiar with the reversal of their roles. How did you comfort an older brother who had always had everything going for him when you were the one who had always been side-lined and his only good memories were of Jaime helping him by shielding him from their father’s ire and of the one time Tyrion had cried with his head in Jaime’s lap.

“How is Cersei? Have you seen her?” Jaime had asked his words barely understandable as they were muttered against Tyrion’s thigh. 

“Are you not concerned about the fate of your children? You know what happened to Prince Rhaegar’s offspring.” Tyrion had been offended his brother’s first thoughts were of his twin. Things never changed.

“I couldn’t help them even though I swore Prince Rhaegar I would protect them. How can I help my own children?”

“By not fighting was has been agreed upon, by accepting your fate.” Tyrion had been glad these words had gotten through to his brother.

Jaime had sat up when he heard that. You know? They told you what their plans are?”

“Lord Stark did.” Tyrion had replied. “That man is an enigma. He is the children’s greatest advocate, Jaime. He is willing to brave the King’s punishment and will allow me flee with all three of them before the Baratheons get the chance to harm them. He has taken them in protective custody and hasn’t told the King of their whereabouts.”

“At least that is something. You won’t tell me about Cersei?” 

He hadn’t been able to resist the plea in his brother’s eyes then. “Lord Stark has promised to do everything in his power to prevent King Robert from executing her. I trust the man, Jaime. He may not be our friend but he is an ally, strange as it may seem. He promised me House Lannister gets to keep the Rock.” Tyrion hesitated wondering if he should say more. “Between you and me, and I will deny I ever said it, so do not breathe a word of this to anybody, he promised that in time he would see to it that Tommen would be legalised and recognised as the next Lord of Casterly Rock. He gave me his word.”

“And you believe him?” Jaime’s words had been spoken more with hope than with doubt.

Tyrion had believed it at the time and still believed it now. He had not hesitated to reassure his brother. “I do. I believe him Jaime. Let it be your consolation that whatever fate befalls you, your son will continue our house and our name.” 

“What will happen to me? Will your honourable ally take my head off personally or will my lot be to freeze to death at the Wall?”

“I do not know.” Tyrion had stated honestly. “I pray the Wall. With your abilities, you could take over that sorry brotherhood in no time. And even if you are not allowed to leave, you could build a life for yourself and create some of your own rules. At least you will live and I’ll write to you about the rest of us.”  
Tyrion had embraced his brother knowing full well it might be the very last chance he got to do that.

“I am sorry, Tyrion. I really am. I never meant for you all to suffer for the things I did. If only I had resisted Cersei all these years ago.” Jaime had clung to him for dear life.

Tyrion had disentangled them with some effort. He had looked his brother in the eye. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. That is water under the bridge, Jaime. Best not dwell too much on the past. Think of others for a change and behave yourself. Even if Lord Stark has a lot of influence with the King right now, one outburst from you can undo all the good work Eddard Stark has put into persuading the King to show some leniency to the remnants of House Lannister. We could lose the Rock. Tommen and Myrcella might be taken away and put to work as servants, or worse.”

In the end his brother had seen reason and had become somewhat reconciled to his fate or something resembling that at least. Tyrion had left the next day knowing he might never see any of his siblings ever again.

 

**Present: Back at the Rock**

So here he sat at his father’s desk. He was now responsible for House Lannister and his niece and nephew. The most important thing was to get the finances of House Lannister sound again. They had counted on the reimbursement of the Crown’s debt to keep solvent but now that he had signed away that gold he needed to find other sources of income. First order of business had been to appoint a new kennel master. Their region was famous for training hounds and ever since the Cleganes had upped and left, things had not been run as efficiently. 

He also had summoned the major farmers and had heard their grievances. They had been given some means but most of all sound advice on how to reorganise their farms. Tyrion had vowed to help them out and to visit them in person to appraise their needs. He had promised that each farmer that implemented the new farming practices would receive livestock financed by House Lannister. More specifically they would get two horses and the choice between five cows or ten sheep. They had all left promising to start implementing the ameliorations immediately.

Now the only thing left to do was to hear the latest reports from the Lannister gold mines. Bronn had not let him down. Ever since he had asked him to look into things, the revenue of the mines had increased. Bronn had explained in his reports that the previous overseers had been too lazy and only given orders to mine where the mineral could easily be reached. Bronn had instructed them to build ladders and dig new shafts and things had progressed from there.

He looked up when he saw Bronn enter with a big grin on his face. “How much were you willing to pay me if I turned the damned things around?” The former sellsword said without a greeting as he sat down in his nonchalant way Tyrion was used to by now. 

Tyrion rather liked the man who had no manners whatsoever and spoke out loud whatever he was thinking. It was refreshing and easy in a way to deal with him. You didn’t have to second guess his motivations. They were clear as hell: gold, more gold and lots of female company. Bronn needed no more than that. Tyrion was more than willing to give him that as long as he kept the mines solvent and perhaps even have them showing a nice profit again from the looks of things.

“My, are you in a good mood.” Tyrion laughed. “Had a good whore in your bed last night?”

“Two as a matter of fact if you really want to know. You should come with me sometime. I will fucking set you up. I am sure someone is willing to blow that tiny prick of yours.” His friendly tone softened the arrogance of his words. 

Tyrion took no offence, he even considered for a fraction of a moment to take him up on his offer. “I am good thanks. What news, my friend.”

“Let’s renegotiate our deal. I want a percentage of the yield. Not only a fucking salary.” 

Tyrion’s heart skipped a beat. That demand bode well. He kept his face blank however. “You want both? Unacceptable. Let’s say I cut your salary in half and you get two per cent.”

“Ten and I keep my salary.”

“Five and you get no salary whatsoever. But you only get the percentage as long as you work for me.”

“Seven.” Bronn said in his nonchalant manner but Tyrion could see the steel in his eyes. The man meant business.

“Deal. Now tell me just how much gold you have he found in those mines of mine?” Tyrion settled back in his chair. This was going to be good. If Bronn waved away his salary then he must have found a treasure.

“I found a new vein! We just need to expose it and that can take more than a moon if we do not want the damn thing to collapse but we struck gold. Literally!” Bronn’s features said it all. The man glowed almost as brightly as Lannister gold.

“I’ll want to see that with my own eyes.” Tyrion was getting caught up in Bronn’s excitement.

“Well, what the hells are you waiting for? I am not going to fucking carry you. Get those little legs moving. I have a horse ready for you, Lord Dwarf.” The man was already halfway to the door when he looked back to check whether Tyrion was coming.

Tyrion jumped of his chair and followed Bronn not in the least bothered by the new surname. They had struck gold! He no longer needed to contemplate accepting Lord Frey’s offer to choose a bride amongst his daughters or granddaughters in order to receive his bride’s weight in gold. 

 

***

 

Later that night in his bed, for the first time in a long while Tyrion was at peace. Things were starting to look up. Their finances were back on track. He could once more have a fully staffed and equipped houseguard and train enough soldiers to defend his borders if need be. The farmers would get all the support they needed and the next harvest would be plentiful. A heavy load left his shoulders. Tommen’s future was secure. Now he only needed Lord Stark’s help to legalize the boy before he became aware of the stigma that came with his bastard status. Here at the Rock nobody dared raise the issue. Tyrion had seen to that. Everyone addressed his nephew as Lord Tommen and the boy didn’t think twice about it. He looked happy here at the Rock and never questioned that it might not be his to inherit. Tommen seemed glad he was no longer destined to be King. Life was simple when you were that young. 

Now he only needed to find a betrothed for Myrcella. As soon as she was legalised with the large dowry he could bestow on her, he would be able to find a good match. Perhaps he didn’t really need the help of Lord Stark for that. He still had time though. He needed to wait for whatever change in power Lord Stark had hinted at that would soon be coming.

Free of his troubles, his mind focussed once more on the puzzle he had been trying to solve for moons now, the hidden motives of the Lord of Winterfell. Tyrion had a lot of pieces of the puzzle already. He just needed to see how they fit together and perhaps find a few missing ones. He was close to figuring it out. He felt his brain grasp for something that was just out of its reach. He would read the message from Eddard Stark again tomorrow morning. Perhaps there was some clue hidden in there that he hadn’t discovered yet. Once more he mentally reviewed the pieces he had gathered so far.

The North was prospering more than ever. He had seen Winterfell and had questioned several servants. They had told him all about the building of the second wall, the new glass gardens with pride in their voices. They all worshipped the current Lord Stark. On his way back he had seen the new fortress and town of Moat Cailin. He was sure Lord Stark had somehow redirected the royal caravan to keep the King from seeing the new stronghold in such a strategic place. The man was a lot more cunning than anyone thought possible. 

He had kept his ears open and had learned about the northern fleet of over a hundred ships strong. In the Riverlands they had confirmed that House Tully also had several ships at Seagard that were under the command of their good brother Lord Stark. In the taverns he had heard more details of the attack of the Ironborn on the Stony Shore and was convinced there were dragons and somehow Lord Stark knew about them and wasn’t worried. Some rumours went as far as proclaiming the dragonrider a Stark or a Snow.

The Targaryen Princess also had ties to the Northern Kingdom. Add to that Lord Stark’s hints about Robert’s ending reign and him swearing loyalty to Lord Stark and not the King, there was a rebellion brewing. 

The only missing piece was who would be the next King of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if he had detected a new side to Lord Stark, he couldn’t believe that the noble Warden of the North would usurp his friend’s throne and sit upon it himself or give it to his heir. There had to be something he was missing. There had to be someone he was overlooking. It couldn’t be the Princess. Perhaps there was a dragonrider with mixed blood. Perhaps Benjen or Brandon Stark had sired a son with a woman of Valyrian decent. 

He was almost sure he was on the right track, he had confronted Ned Stark about the rumours days before the Bran incident and Lord Stark had appeared flustered and laughed everything away. The man had looked uneasy though. Tyrion was on the right track. He only needed to find the missing link.

Anyway, for now everything Lord Stark had asked him to do, Tyrion had been more than happy to comply. He could boast he had helped to bring Petyr Baelish down, even if it had cost him days of going over boring numbers to find the well-hidden manipulations of the former Master of Coin. He hoped his spy from the capital would arrive soon so he could hear all about the trial in detail. He regretted they were all still on house arrest so to speak and couldn’t leave the Rock but he had given Lord Stark his word. Besides, life at the Rock nowadays was like living in one of the Seven Heavens compared to the years when his father had still been around.

And he had to admit he liked a puzzle that was complex enough to take him some time to solve. Finding the right solution was always so much more rewarding when he finally did. 

 

***

 

A sennight later after his informant had told him in detail what had happened at Baelish’s trial, Tyrion knew he had found the last piece of the puzzle. Lyanna Stark had married Prince Rhaegar! Now he only needed to locate their child, the one with the blood of a dragon that Lord Stark would consider the rightful heir to the throne and part of his pack. There was a dragonrider and he was an ally to the North, even a close kin to House Stark. 

Tyrion had done the right thing after all. He had aligned himself with the winning side in the coming conflict. Now he only needed to be smart and use this information to the benefit of his house. It had been the most rewarding puzzle he had solved in years. Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar, who would have thought…

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we finally get a glimpse of what is happening at the Dreadfort.  
> The red priest Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion do not fare well at Storm’s End either.


	25. A wolf in trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb is in dire need of rescue.  
> The interlude takes us to the Stormlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: VIOLENCE, character death and mutilation  
> Boltons appear on the scene, so be warned. This chapter is not for the faint-hearted. Read at your own peril. 
> 
> Extra kudo's for Ravenousreadr my ever helpful beta.

*

The sun had long since reached its highest peak when Jon saw the towers of the Dreadfort appear in the distance. It had not been a straightforward journey. First his bout of illness had prevented him from leaving that very same day that the call for help had arrived. His stomach had not been able to hold solid food until late that evening. His worry for Robb probably had not helped matters. And even he had been forced to concede that it would have been irresponsible to leave in the middle of the night still feeling as weak as he did.

Sam had once more proven to be very loyal and extremely useful. His dear friend had done everything he could to distract Jon’s mind so his stomach could start to settle. He had read him an interesting, riveting part of a diary of one of Jon’s ancestors he had found on Dragonstone. At some point, probably phase two of Sam’s premeditated plan, the tale had become longwinded and Sam had tempered his voice and had started to read slower until Jon had been lulled to sleep and had slept for at least half a day. Without a doubt, if not for Sam, his voyage would have been delayed even further. The bedrest had settled his stomach enough to be able to depart not long after dawn.

Rhaegal who could sense his condition would have refused to take off earlier anyway. Even when Jon had felt somewhat better that morning, Rhaegal had been reluctant to start the long trip north. 

Jon was glad he had had the presence of mind to ask Ser Gerold and Sam to inform Uncle Ned of his plans. Uncle Benjen would certainly have sent a raven to King’s Landing as well. Right before he departed, they had indeed gotten the call for help in the form of a short scroll from Eddard Stark. They hadn’t needed to reply however. The raven they had sent earlier was already more than halfway to King’s Landing.

The first leg of the journey the dragons had not flown at full speed and had avoided unnecessary movements. The fact that they had hit some strong headwinds hadn’t helped matters. They had stopped early on their first day and Jon, drained of the little strength he had started off with, had slept later than planned. Of course neither Rhaegal nor Viserion had seen fit to wake him at first light. That meant the journey had taken him almost three days. 

They landed in the woods near the haphazard encampment not to scare the men too much that had shown up to help free the heir of Winterfell. Jon quickly partook of some light food and drink before jogging the short distance to meet up with the rescuing party that had gathered at a safe distance from the walls of the Dreadfort. 

He halted when he spotted his uncle was coming towards him to meet him halfway. Jon was still somewhat out of breath when his uncle reached him. Even though it had been three days since his bout of illness, he hadn’t regained all his strength yet. Benjen Stark took the final steps to close the gap between them and threw his arms around Jon. Jon felt his uncle shake. 

“I failed him Jon. I was right there and I let him go out, not bothering to check where he went or with whom. He should never have been able to go to the brothel without an escort and certainly not with Theon Greyjoy. I failed him.” 

Jon felt his uncle’s desperation keenly and tried to lessen his burden by sharing the blame. “We all did. Uncle Ned did as well. We should have had Ramsay apprehended and not have allowed Theon as many privileges. Any other body parts?” 

Jon was very relieved to see his uncle shake his head. Hopefully it stayed that way. Losing the tip of his little finger was a loss that would not cripple his cousin. It had been severed at the first joint below the nail. They didn’t know yet whether it was his left or right hand that had been mutilated. 

Jon paid no attention to his surroundings nor to the strange looks he got and let his uncle steer him to a large tent that had been erected in all haste by the looks of it. 

“Inside you will find the representatives of the principal bannermen of House Stark who live close enough to reach us this quickly. We were holding a war council when the guards informed me there were two dragons approaching.” Benjen Stark who had regained his composure gave his nephew a significant look.

“I know, Uncle. We’ll deal with the fallout. Let us just rescue Robb from these vile Boltons.” Jon had taken his first step inside the tent when he was pushed on the ground with force.

“Ouch! Greywind, down boy! He ran his hand through the animal’s smokey grey pelt. “It is all right, I am here. We’ll save Robb together.” 

The direwolf obeyed immediately so Jon could get up. He dusted of his coat and hugged the wolf. He put his forehead on the animal’s large head and tried to reach his mind. He immediately sensed Ghost’s presence. _‘Of course! Greywind would have made an attempt to contact Ghost.’_ He tried to calm both wolves and reassured them Robb would be safe before Ghost could even get there. He felt Ghost running straight for the Dreadfort. His loyal friend would arrive in less than two days.

As soon as Jon broke his connection with both of them he became more aware of the rumours and stares. He noticed the men around him look between him, Greywind and Uncle Benjen with consternation.

“Better introduce me formally, Uncle. I will need to use my dragons, right? Better not lie to these proud men but appeal to their honour and tell them it will be Eddard Stark that will face the Baratheon King’s wrath if they let word of who I really am get out too soon.” Jon spoke at a normal volume on purpose.

A tense silence followed his words. Everyone close enough to hear them stood rooted to the spot. It was the Greatjon that broke the stalemate and stepped forward. Benjen Stark, we demand an explanation! Is this young man a Stark or a Snow?”

“Is this the dragonrider that saved the Stony Shore?” Lord Karstark also found the courage to speak up now that the spell had been broken.

“He is a dragonrider. I saw the dragons fly! Will he burn us after he burns the Boltons and take the North away from us?” Someone else called out from the back of the tent.

“Silence!” Benjen Stark’s command could be heard by everyone inside as well as outside the tent. He had stepped in front of Jon. “Give me a chance to explain. Nobody will be burned or threatened. This young man has come here with the sole purpose of saving his cousin.” Benjen Stark’s eyes stared daggers at his audience warning everyone away from Jon.

“Uncle,” Jon touched his uncle’s arm and gave him a reassuring look.

“Right,” his uncle swallowed a few times to regain his composure and turned so he stood side by side with his nephew and they both faced the Lords of the North together. 

“Lords of the North, loyal bannermen and everyone before me that is a true friend to House Stark and heeded our call for help, may I introduce my kin to you?”

A few shocked expressions could be heard. Jon heard the name ‘Brandon Stark’ being mentioned. Benjen didn’t wait for new outbursts. He put his hand on Jon’s shoulder and continued his voice loud and firm so everyone could hear.

“You can all see how much the young man standing next to me resembles my brother Ned. However, those of you who were fortunate enough to know my sister Lyanna will believe me when I tell you that she was the one who gave birth to him.” 

“I owe my life to this young man who was raised in secret under the supervision of House Stark. You see before you a true son of the North who worships the old Gods and shares our beliefs and our way of life. But he is more than that. He is also a Prince by birth. Even if a fierce northern woman, a noble daughter of House Stark birthed him, he carries the name of the House of his father, of the Prince my sister married in secret.” 

He turned his head in all directions to give each and every one a firm meaningful look before continuing. 

“My Lords, I strongly urge you to welcome him to the North as a kinsman and loyal ally of House Stark. Before you stands Prince Aegon Targaryen, my nephew and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Princess Lyanna formerly of House Stark.”

A tense silence ensued. Jon gave Uncle Benjen a small sign and climbed a small sturdy looking crate so he towered over his audience. He mostly saw bewildered faces, only a few still looked at him with scepticism if not outright hostility.

“Most hounourable Lords, please hear me out. I have known Robb Stark ever since he was a skinny boy barely counting eleven namedays. He is my cousin and I love him dearly. The only reason I have come here today is to rescue him. I apologize if you feel we kept my identity a secret from you for so long. It was done to keep all of us safe, me as well as all of you who are loyal to Lord Stark. If the Baratheon King had gotten wind of my existence and how House Stark had sheltered and protected me all these years, it would not only have been Lord Stark’s life that would have been forfeit. His wife, his children and most likely several of his loyal bannermen would have been executed just so the King could set an example. I am sure the North remembers how my half-sister, her baby brother and her mother were brutally murdered.” 

He took a deep breath and spoke louder now conveying his unwavering conviction and willingness to see things through. 

“I have come here today with one and one goal only. Today nothing else matters. Today is about saving Robb of House Stark, son of your Liege Lord Eddard of House Stark and heir to the North. I will not leave before Robb Stark is out of the clutches of his kidnappers.” 

Jon scanned the small crowd and noticed the Greatjon nod his head in silent approval but still a few faces looked at him with some distrust. He changed his tone slightly so it would not seem that he was taking the lead and would order these men around. He took another deep breath.

“My Lords, today, here and now, Let us forget about politics and focus on the noble reason why we have all gathered here. Every single one of us has the same purpose. We all want to free Robb of House Stark from the Dreadfort and return the heir alive and well to Winterfell. Knowing the reputation of House Bolton, and more specifically of Ramsay Snow, time is of the essence if we want to save my dear cousin before he has been mutilated more seriously than he already is.”

Seeing consenting nods all around his courage rose. “I have brought two large dragons to help. We need a plan that will avoid making unnecessary casualties amongst the innocent smallfolk and servants that live at the Dreadfort and that will not put any of you in harm’s way. Who will assist Uncle Benjen and me to devise such a plan to free Robb Stark?” 

The silence that ensued was broken by a bit of commotion at the entrance of the tent. All heads turned that way.

‘I will!” 

The first one to break the silence and offer support was … a Bolton. 

“I will!” The young man that now strode over to Jon repeated. “Domeric of House Bolton, at your service, my Prince. I take no part in the schemes of my father nor those of my half-brother’s. I may not have been at the Dreadfort these past few moons but I have knowledge of all entrances and I know the location where Ramsay Snow usually keeps his victims. I can help you if you will allow me to.”

“Thank you,” Jon nodded at the heir to the Dreadfort. “Will anyone else help us come up with a sound plan?”

The Greatjon Umber was the first to give a resounding “Aye, count me in. Let us work together today.”

Lord Halys of House Hornwood was next and soon every Lord present offered his assistance. 

“For Robb Stark!” someone shouted. 

“Free Robb Stark!” A few others chimed in. 

Jon wondered if Ramsay Snow would still be as bold trapped inside his dreary Dreadfort if he could hear these shouts. He waited for them to vent their feelings knowing that way the tension would lessen and a newfound hope and optimism would help them all to work better together.

“My Lords,” he tried to address them once more still standing on the crate. When he had their attention, he used it to warn them once more of the precarious situation they were in now. 

“Before we start, I must entreat you to adhere to your Liege Lord’s wishes and keep my real identity a secret for a little while longer. Bear in mind that the honourable Warden of the North is at the moment fulfilling the position of Hand of the King in the capital. Word of my identity cannot reach King’s Landing yet. It will not do to save Robb Stark here today only to have your Liege Lord be put on trial for treason. He allowed me to come here because he trusts you all to spare no effort to keep House Stark and their kin safe.”

He stepped down from the crate and together with his uncle joined the circle the Lords of the North had formed around the crate. They would all put together a plan as equals. Jon discreetly nodded at Domeric Bolton to open the discussion. 

The young Lord immediately stepped forward. “Now my Lords, have you ever noticed that the east tower is built slightly different when compared to the other ones …”

 

***

 

With Domeric Bolton’s knowledge and the advantage of attacking from the sky as well, they soon had a solid plan in place and just had to wait until dark. After some debate the attack was set to happen in the second part of the night.

Jon had needed to reassure the proud Northmen several times that his dragons posed no threat to them and that he could guarantee that no one in the rescuing party would be in danger of being burned to ashes at any point of the plan.

Jon, certain he would be safe walking amongst the northerners now, even more so with Greywind glued to his side, exited the tent in order to share his plans with his dragons. 

His uncle would accompany him until he reached the woods. He had only taken two steps outside the tent when someone bumped into him on purpose.

“Jon, I am so relieved you showed up!” Edric exclaimed but made no move to embrace Jon.

“Of course I came as soon as I could! Remember our pact?” Jon managed a small smile and gave him a brief hug before addressing Edric’s two companions.

“My Lady,” he greeted Brienne of Tarth. “My Lord!” he bowed before Loras who stood there gaping. “Close your mouth, Lord Tyrell. You are much more handsome when you don’t show your tonsils.” He teased.

“So you are the Jon I met in the Riverlands, the one and the same that Lady Arya mentioned all the time before she suddenly stopped, but you are not Lord Celtigar, not really?” Lady Brienne’s question sounded more like an accusation.

“I am the same person. I just go by another name. I am sorry I had to deceive you, my Lady. It was for my safety as well as for yours and everyone connected to me. My cousin Arya is not aware of my real identity either.” He had ignored her slightly condemning attitude, keeping his tone cordial.

“My Prince,” Lady Brienne of Tarth bowed to him now. “If you have come here to save Robb Stark, you have my sword.” She kneeled in front of him and laid her sword at his feet.

“Rise, Lady Brienne. I gladly accept your sword for today. If you implied more than that, we will talk about that later. I refuse to dwell on any other matter until after we have successfully rescued my cousin.”

Several Lords of the North had witnessed the scene and Lady Brienne’s deference with growing unease. Lord Umber who had exited the tent on Benjen Stark’s heels, stepped forward. 

“My Prince,” he bowed before Jon. “I am sorry we did not give you the respect you are due.” 

“That is not important right now, Lord Umber. As I told you before, this is not the time for politics. We rescue my cousin first. For now I am just one more man amongst all of you, anxious to see Robb Stark safely back at Winterfell.” He smiled at Lord Umber and walked away with big strides, Greywind and his uncle hurrying after him.

“Jon, slow down for a bit. We still have some time before dark.”

“I am sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to make it clear that I didn’t want anyone following me except you of course, and Greywind.” He smiled at his uncle and petted the direwolf. “He is a dear, isn’t he?”

“He is now. He has been giving us some trouble these last few days. I have never been nudged and bumped into as much before. I do not think Greywind rested much since Robb went missing. I am glad you are here. Perhaps you can convince him to sleep a bit before our attack.” Benjen Stark looked at Greywind who was walking calmly, firmly glued to Jon’s side.

“Well he is worried about his master and trusts me to help save him. You will need to keep him with you for a short while though. I better not have him with me when I confer with Rhaegal and Viserion.” Jon warned.

“Well then you will need to be the one to make him understand that. I had enough trouble to make him behave on the road here and before you arrived.” 

He studied his nephew now that they had slowed their steps. “You were later than expected and you look like shit, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“That is probably because I feel like shit so I don’t mind at all. I have been sick, Uncle.” Jon admitted. “I had to wait until my stomach could hold solid food before I travelled across Westeros on my own.”

“I didn’t realise. Now I wonder you are here at all. However did you get permission from Ser Gerold to come here still looking like you do?” Benjen frowned, looking his nephew over in more detail.

“Well he was somewhat understanding this time. I only had to keep solid food in my stomach for half a day and solve a riddle Sam put before me to prove I was sound of mind and would know what I was doing up in the air.” Jon smiled wanly remembering how bad he had still felt when he climbed on top of Rhaegal. 

“Something you ate?” Benjen still frowned looking at his nephew with a worried expression.

“Something like that.” Jon relied with unusual sarcasm. “I didn’t develop a fever though, just a splitting headache and an upset stomach.”

“And you are all right now?” Benjen pressed wondering what Jon was not telling him.

“Getting there. I will be fine, Uncle. Do not worry on my account. We have to focus on Robb now and see that everyone keeps to the plan. I would never forgive myself if Ramsay got to Robb during our rescue attempt.”

“Well, you have taken that part of the plan totally upon yourself, Jon. But I have the utmost confidence you three can pull it off. I have heard Robb describe the might of your dragons ad nauseam.”

“Do not tell Rhaegal and Viserion that. They are getting cocky enough without extra praise.”

“As if I would know how.” Benjen offered a weak smile before asking. “How are things on Dragonstone, Jon?”

“Let’s talk about that some other time, Uncle. We have almost reached the place where the dragons are resting and I am tired. Besides I want to focus all my energy on Robb first. I promise to tell you everything once we have him back with us in one piece. I will be coming with you to Winterfell for a few days.”

“Fair enough. I will wait here with Greywind if you promise me he will behave.”

Rhaegal and Viserion were delighted to help Jon rescue his kin from evil men. They took pride in being allowed to use their superior abilities and insight to help their human resolve petty struggles on the ground that would go on for days even sennights if not for their mighty interference. 

 

***

 

When Jon returned from his visit with his dragons he was besieged by all sides and needed to tell the story of his life several times over. He noticed uncle Benjen had the same trouble be it a different audience. Whereas he dealt with the younger Lords and less important bannermen, his Uncle entertained Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and Hornwood. 

In the middle of answering the umpteenth question about his upbringing, he heard a hearty burst of laughter and saw it was the Tyrell boy that reacted to something Edric had said to him. Earlier, Jon had immediately noticed Edric’s awkward demeanour towards him after the first greetings had been dispensed with. He felt guilty for not doing more for his friend for now but couldn’t in good faith see another way around that delicate business. 

Jon couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he noticed the easy camaraderie between the Tyrell boy and Edric. If you included Robb, the three of them probably had spent a nice time at Winterfell while he juggled a war with ice creatures and a throne restoration. Looking for some comfort, he petted Greywind who faithfully lay next to him and resumed his lengthy answer to a predominantly benevolent audience. 

Eventually they all retired to the large tent for supper. Jon used that occasion to draw Edric away from the young Tyrell and together with Greywind, they walked to an isolated spot where a fallen tree provided a suitable bench. 

Edric had not said a single word on the way over and even now waited for Jon to open the conversation. Jon cleared his throat and addressed his friend who was seated a bit further away than he would like with some trepidation. “You got my scroll?” 

“I did when it finally arrived. Took me some trouble to decrypt the short message.” Edric replied a bit stiffly.

“It was a precaution to prevent Lady Catelyn from getting wind of the content.” Jon sighed running his hands through Greywind’s pelt to seek some sympathy.

“You get it though? I mean, you understand why I can’t just order Lord Stark to give his consent?”

Edric’s shoulders drooped in defeat. “I do, well perhaps I do kind of,” he amended. “It is difficult to grasp, Jon. I had my hopes up after Robb told me of your conversation about possible betrothals for him. Is there really nothing you can do?”

Jon watched his friend’s forlorn expression. “Nothing straightforward," he replied honestly. “I can only try to stall any other betrothal Lord Stark might want to broker for Sansa.”

Edric looked up and met Jon’s eyes for the first time since Jon’s arrival. “That doesn’t help me much."   
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Gods, I feel guilty talking about this when Robb…”

“I know,” Jon sighed. “But the plan to rescue him is ready and we cannot do anything else for him right now but to wait for the agreed upon time for the attack. We are not hurting Robb with this conversation. If anything, it is better for him that his friends are not at odds with each other when he sees them again, which will hopefully be before dawn.”

“I will pray for that." Edric put his hand on Jon's knee. "We are not at odds, Jon. Not really. I am just disappointed. What you are proposing will not help my case.”

Jon lifted one leg and put it on the other side of the tree trunk so he sat astride it now and faced his friend.   
“It will, Edric. As long as Sansa is not promised to anyone else, I or better we have time to work on Lord Stark and make him change his mind. I am sure, once the political reasons to betroth my cousins become null and void, my uncle will consider Sansa’s happiness. The older she gets, the more chance she has to convince him that it is not just a young girl’s infatuation. You must admit she is still awfully young and you have known each other for a short while only.”

Edric adjusted his position to mirror Jon’s, his hands back in his own lap. “You haven’t seen her, Jon. You haven’t seen us together.” Edric argued his case.

“I haven’t.” Jon admitted readily. “Edric, look at it his way. Lord Stark is in a difficult position right now and is probably counting the days until he can return home. He will do everything he can to speed up the conclusion of years of scheming. Once he is free of this burden, we have a much bigger chance to convince him that his daughter will only be happy as your wife. So stalling a betrothal is the best tactic. In the meantime we will raise you in his esteem.”

When he saw Edric’s sceptical look and raised eyebrows, Jon slightly altered what he had been meaning to say. “Your biggest trump card is that you care for his daughter and are a kind and honourable man from an esteemed and noble house. The only thing you have going against you is that your house does not have the position of a Lord Paramount.”

“I do not see how _‘raising me in his esteem’_ could work since you can’t make me a Lord Paramount or a Prince like you intend to make Robb.”

“Edric, I am certain deep down Lord Stark does not care for that. It is his wife that has these ambitions. I will find a subtle way to remind him of that. I am sure he is only considering it to speed up things the diplomatic way. Just be patient. All is not lost. And please, do not think for one second that I do not have your back. Only, I can’t just order my uncle around just because you are my friend. I owe him everything, my very existence. Please consider that. I already explained all that in my message.”

Edric looked at his hands and his cheeks had reddened. “You know, Robb told me the same thing a few times. He is a better friend to you than I am. I am sorry to take this so badly, Jon. But I feel so unhappy. It all seems so hopeless. 

“It is not, not yet anyway. Your friend Loras might be a helpful ally, actually. We still need to get the Reach on board. If we can convince him that an alliance between Robb and Lady Margaery would make more sense than one between Lord Willas and Sansa, we are halfway there.”

Edric’s eyes lit up. “Loras would certainly be willing to help. Jon, he is most impressed by all I have been able to reveal to him about you today. Finally, I might add. I had been bursting to tell him for sennights now. He has become a dear friend of mine and I would like to include him in our pact.”

“Well that is for the five of us to decide. We all need to get to know him better first. I can’t wait for all of us to be together again. I hope I get to see Gendry soon. Has he written to you?”

“Yes, amazing isn’t it. If you imagine a few moons ago he couldn’t even read properly. But is seems he is well enough and is getting a lot of help from other blacksmiths at Eastwatch.”

“Sam is doing more than his share as well.” Jon responded. “I sincerely hope that one day he will become my Maester and soon after that Grand Maester. When we have more time, I must tell you all about his genius ideas and the support he has given me so far without a proper training at the Citadel. I have been blessed with the four of you. I have the best of friends.”

“Hearing you speak like that, I can’t help but think I am the weakest link of our brotherhood.” Edric looked at his feet.

“You are not Edric. You just haven’t found your vocation yet. Perhaps you are destined to become my most formidable general. You might even turn out to be a very skilled diplomat. One that can bring Dorne into the fold, if not by turning Prince Doran Martell around, then by rallying the majority of the important bannermen of that Kingdom to our cause. It might even be something entirely different. I know you are loyal, intelligent and a very dear friend. We will find something that suits your abilities and we will impress the hells out of Lord Stark.”

Edric lifted his head and looked at Jon for a long time, his dark blue eyes taking in every detail of his friend.

“You will be a great King one day, Jon. If I am sure of one thing today, it is that. I feel lighter than I have felt for more than a moon now. I am ashamed of my behaviour earlier.”

Jon put his hand on Edric’s shoulder, relieved that they were back on better terms. “You are confused and unhappy. I understand, Edric. I hope you will never doubt our friendship, our pact ever again though.”

Edric put his hand on top of Jon’s that was still resting on his shoulder. “I won’t, Jon. However things turn out with Sansa, I know you will be there to help me face it.”

“Of course I will be. So will the others. Too bad Sam and Gendry can’t be here right now. Sam was frustrated enough I had to leave him behind. He helped me substantially. Without him I might still be puking my guts out on Dragonstone. I still can’t believe Ser Gerold let me leave while I was still feeling a bit unwell.”

“You were sick, Jon?” Edric looked his friend over. “At first glance, you look healthy and stronger than ever. But now that you mention it, your face looks pale and drawn and you have dark circles beneath your eyes. Perhaps we should get you something to eat now. And afterwards you can catch half a night’s rest before it is time to start our rescue attempt.”

“I admit I am rather tired.” Jon stood and waited for Edric to do the same. Greywind ran ahead of them, acting as if they needed him to show them the shortest way to the tent.

Jon and Edric walked side by side in silence. Just before they were about to enter the tent, Jon put his hand on Edric’s arm. “Let’s not talk about all of this to Loras for now. Better wait till Robb is safely back with us.”

Edric nodded his assent and both young men stepped into the tent, Greywind firmly glued to Jon’s side.

 

***

 

He must have fallen asleep at some point because his uncle’s voice woke him when it was still pitch black outside. “Jon, everything has been prepared, everyone is ready. You need to mount Rhaegal and start the attack.”

Jon tried to get his bearings. _‘Gods, he was tired still.’_ . He was in the small tent he shared with his uncle. He vaguely remembered retiring to it last night shortly after supper when his uncle had saved his head from falling into his plate. 

He needed to get up though. They had agreed to attack during the second part of the night and were hoping the Boltons would be less vigilant now. They did not need to adhere to a code of honour and wait for daylight when confronting such cruel, dishonest adversaries. Jon had convinced them it was the best way to avoid casualties amongst their own ranks. Furthermore he had argued that he had flown practically non-stop for almost three day straight and his dragons, as much as himself, needed a bit of rest first. 

He accepted the cup of water his uncle handed him and made himself ready for battle. A bit worried about his levels of energy, he prayed that Rhaegal and Viserion would be able to pick up his slack if necessary.

 

***

 

Once he was high up in the air, Jon had trouble discerning the part of the stronghold he needed to find. Domeric Bolton had giving him a precise description of the balcony and the window. It was too damn dark. The cloud cover that helped conceal him until the last moment also blocked the pale moonlight and made it difficult to distinguish the towers properly. Spotting his precise target from this high up wasn’t easy. He deliberated his next move. If he flew lower they would be spotted and he couldn’t risk the guards getting to Robb before he was able to neutralise them.

“Robb will be alone at that time of night,” Lord Domeric had assured them all. “My bastard half-brother will either be boasting of what he will do to your cousin Sansa whilst feasting with his men downstairs, or he will be asleep in his own room hopefully inebriated enough for us to overpower him easily.”

Jon who had shivered with repulsion at the image of Sansa being at the mercy of Ramsay Snow, had been able to discern some fear underlying Domeric’s words. He had forced himself to focus back on their plan.

“And your father? Where may we expect him to be?” 

My father will be in his own bedroom in the west tower. He will not be able to reach Rob Stark in time.” He had looked at Jon and had hesitated before offering his opinion. 

“I can’t help but think father did not agree to this plan. It is possible that Ramsay acted entirely on his own and has somehow convinced my father things have evolved too far by now. Perhaps father believes he cannot turn the situation around without losing face and that might be the only reason he is helping his bastard.”

“Let’s decide how to deal with Lord Bolton when we can assess the situation for ourselves.” Lord Umber had declared with barely concealed anger.

“I will only agree to not killing him on the spot if it doesn’t endanger our plan. I will give my men the order to take him prisoner so House Stark can pronounce his sentence but only if they can do so without risking their own lives. And I do want House Bolton to pay.” Lord Karstark had been adamant.

Several ‘ayes’ had clearly shown that most of the men present were in agreement and Domeric Bolton had averted his eyes.

“Lord Domeric, how many guards before we get to Robb?” his uncle had interfered, wanting to stop the debate by reminding the arguing Lords that Domeric Bolton had volunteered his help and his intelligence was a key factor in devising an efficient plan to free Robb Stark.

Domeric Boltons had looked grateful that the topic he had introduced himself had been tabled. He had obliged Benjen Stark and had given an accurate description.

“Two perhaps three guards will be stationed on the balcony that leads to the only entry of Robb’s prison at the top room of the east tower of the Dreadfort. It cannot be accessed from the inside. The top room apparently was added to the castle by a later generation. A Bolton ancestor, so they told me when I was young, wanted to gaze at the stars at night and in order to do that he built an additional room high up and made sure it contained several tiny windows all around the structure. That way he could look at the sky in all directions and still be sheltered from the wind and snow.”

With a long stick Domeric Bolton had drawn a square on the ground to represent the courtyard. “Here is our tent, these are the castle walls. We will enter the yard when we pass a second gate there. The tower will be to our right.” He had pointed with his stick to the various locations he had drawn crudely.

“You can only gain access to Robb’s makeshift prison by ascending a steep stairway from the inner courtyard and crossing the balcony. That is why it is Ramsay’s favourite room. He can isolate and torture prisoners in there without anyone interfering. When Ramsay has a victim up there, his guards are not allowed step inside the room and are to keep watch on the balcony. With Robb being such a prominent hostage he will have men stationed at the feet of the staircase as well.”

Jon had listened with growing horror. “The only one Robb gets to see is Ramsay Snow?”

“I am afraid that will be the case. Ramsay’s face will probably be the only face Robb Stark has seen these last few days. He will have been the only one to to talk to him, threaten him, feed him, and torture him. I am sorry, my Lord, uh Prince.” Domeric Bolton offered his sympathy with Robb’s plight.

“It’s all right Lord … Domeric.” A pale and grave looking Jon had avoided mention of the Bolton name.

The Greatjon had interfered. “So all we need to do is take advantage of the chaos two big dragons flying overhead can create rather easily I imagine?” He had looked to Jon for confirmation, and after getting a serious nod from the young Prince who had still sported a worried expression he had finished his sentence, “while we storm the gates of the Dreadfort.”

“We need to prevent the guards from going in and harming or even killing Robb.” Benjen Stark had cautioned them.

“I can do that if I know where exactly the balcony is situated. The first burst of fire from my dragon will neutralise these guards. Keeping everyone away from the staircase won’t be difficult. I just need to see that the dragons don’t burn it so Robb still has a way to get down.” Jon had been quick to propose.

“The stairway is made out of stone.” Domeric Bolton had remarked. The rampart not so much but we can get to Robb even if that has been burnt to a crisp. We just have to be more careful not to lose our balance. The floor of the balcony is made of stone as well.”

“Then we have a plan. What are we waiting for?” The Greatjon, always a man of action more than strategy had exclaimed.

“Let us wait for the cover of darkness first, if we have the element of surprise, we have more time to take out the guard on the balcony and that gives Robb a better chance to make it out of there alive. We should discuss how best to attack. We have enough men to attack several gates at once.” Benjen Stark had reasoned.

“As soon as the guards on the balcony have been taken care of, I only need one dragon to safeguard Robb until he can be rescued. The other one can burn down the gates. That would mean you better keep your distance and wait for the fire to destroy the gates first. I do not want to harm any of you.”

It had all looked so simple, a plan that could not go wrong. If only Jon could find that damn balcony and eliminate the three guards. His spyglass was no help at all. He felt his mood affect his dragons and pulled himself together, he couldn’t help feeling tired. His dragons were impatient. Rhaegal was adamant. He and his brother would find their target easily once they were below the clouds and could eliminate two or three tiny guards in the blink of an eye. Jon hesitated no longer and trusted his dragons with Robb’s life. 

It had been the right decision. Greywind was the first one to storm through the gates and attack one of the few Bolton guards who had not been blown of their feet by the gates that had been catapulted inside the courtyard by the force of Rhaegal’s fire blast. Viserion had been the one to take out the two guards on the balcony and had stayed there hovering near the tower. He had already neutralised a few archers who had tried to shoot miserable little arrows at him with unsteady hands.

Jon let his dragons do their thing and just watched the fighting going on below him. He did not feel well enough to join the fray and find Ramsay Snow himself. That way he could easily keep his promise to his uncle. The others would also honour Benjen Stark’s wish. If Ramsay Snow was to fall in the battle, the deadly blow would be coming from Benjen’s Valyrian sword Longclaw if at all possible.

The torches in the courtyard combined with the extra fires that now raged courtesy of Rhaegal and Viserion provided enough light to follow the proceedings below. When he noticed Bolton soldiers storming into the courtyard, he persuaded Rhaegal to hold back. The Lords of the North and their soldiers outnumbered the Bolton men five to one. When a few Bolton guards made for the staircase however he let Rhaegal vent his frustration. The men were turned into ashes on the spot. That sight prompted several Bolton guards to lower their weapons and surrender. 

Ramsay Snow now came storming out of the main building of the castle shouting furiously. “Fight! Fight you bloody cowards! Nobody gets to Robb Stark. Not before I have skinned every last part of him.”

Jon watched from above how his uncle stepped in front of the cruel bastard. “Indeed, nobody gets to Robb Stark for the moment. Most certainly not the likes of you. Fight me, you coward. Did you bring your sword at least?” Benjen Stark taunted him.

“I brought my knife to skin you. Just as I will skin what is left of your dear nephew.” Ramsay bluffed. “Just as I will skin your dear niece when I have had my way with her. Father promised her hand to me and will disown his pathetic heir that fled the Dreadfort.”

“Shut up and draw your sword.” Benjen Stark grumbled. 

“Keep your men back and we will settle this the old way.” Snow replied and drew his sword.

“It will be my pleasure.” Benjen Stark focussed his attention on his opponent and took his stance to engage him.

An arrow came at him from the right side below his outstretched arm and hit him in the abdomen before he could make his first move. Benjen Stark looked at it with uncomprehending eyes, dropped Longclaw and fell to his knees.

“You Starks, always so honourable. You say stand down and everyone listens. Well I trained my men better. Let me get your sword. I always fancied owning a Valyrian one.”

Before Ramsay had the chance to finish his sentence and pick Benjen’s sword up from the ground, a large shadow swept over the courtyard. The next thing the men standing close by saw, was Ramsay’s head that rolled across the yard, bitten off and spit out by the green dragon. “See to Benjen Stark.” Jon called out feeling helpless on Rhaegal’s back. “Help him.” 

With not enough available free space to safely land in the inner courtyard, Jon steered Rhaegal outside the castle walls as soon as he saw the men loyal to House Stark had the situation well under control. After what seemed like ages, they let him enter through the burnt gate, Lady Brienne at his side. He had his sword drawn when he reached Greatjon Umber who stood with a few other Lords of the North trying to decide what to do next.

“Robb?” Jon asked immediately when he was near enough to be heard by them.

“Is safe but too weak to descend the stairs of his own accord. They are helping him make himself presentable first. He will be down soon.” The Greatjon informed him.

“Uncle Benjen?” 

“The arrow hit him rather lower than I first thought. Those Boltons have no honour whatsoever. Don’t worry, he is still breathing fairly normal so the arrow likely missed his lungs and his heart. I am no healer but I guess he will be all right. The Maester of the Dreadfort is taking care of him under the supervision of several armed men. We are not sure that we can trust him yet.”

“Let us hope the arrow wasn’t poisoned.” Jon remarked and looked up at the Greatjon. “What can I do to help?”

Lord Umber did not hesitate with his reply. “Get that wolf to Robb Stark and keep him in check. That beast is terrorising everyone, looking scarier than ever with all that Bolton blood on his mouth and furs. His constant pacing in the courtyard is hindering us.” 

“What about Lord Bolton, I mean Roose Bolton, of course?” Jon had kept an eye out for him but hadn’t recognised anyone answering to the description he had been given.

“We are still looking for him. The servants haven’t seen him lately. We fear the bastard might have murdered his own father. We can’t ask him though.” Lord Umber looked in the direction where Ramsay’s headless body lay.

“I am sorry about that.” Jon sure now that he would not need his sword sheathed Blackfyre while he listened to Lord Umber’s reply.

“Don’t be. That will be a tale I can tell my great-grandchildren. If your dragon hadn’t interfered we would have done something similar to that cunt. He signed his dead sentence the moment he cheated. Don’t worry we will keep looking for Roose Bolton.”

“Found my father!” Domeric came storming into the courtyard looking sick. “At least what was left of him. Ramsay fed his dogs pieces of him. He died yesterday.” He paused to take a few deep breaths. “His second wife is also in there but is too terrorised to utter a word. She is missing her right hand. Lord Dayne is with her. I had to leave the kennel because ...,” Domeric turned his head to the side and vomited on some bushes that grew against the castle wall.”

“I’ll assist Lord Dayne, my Prince. You best go see to Robb.” Lady Brienne gently guided Jon who looked shocked beyond words gently in the direction of the stairway. “Be careful my Prince. These stairs are steep.”

Jon turned in her direction and slowly came back to himself. He released the pommel of his sword he had been clinging to rather tightly and rubbed his face. “Thank you Lady Brienne. I’ll be all right now.” Behind Jon’s back Lady Brienne signalled Lord Umber to send someone up with Jon. The young Prince looked pale and the stairway was steep.

Jon stopped in his tracks. “Has anyone seen any sign of Theon Greyjoy?”  
When nobody could give him an affirmative answer he ordered, “Ask the servants if he is supposed to be at the Dreadfort. If you find him alive, imprison him. I will want to talk to him. He may prove a valuable hostage when I deal with Pyke.”

Lord Umber signalled one of his men. Spread the word that we are looking for Theon Greyjoy and want to capture him alive.”

Then he turned to Jon. “After you, my Prince.” Jon hesitated and looked at Greywind. “Stay.” He commanded and looked firmly into the wolf’s eyes. Greywind whined but Jon gave him a long stern look and the large wolf lay himself down at the feet of the stairs and would wait for his master to come down as ordered by the leader of the pack.

 

***

 

Robb had been cleaned up and was enveloped in a coat that bore the sigil of House Karstark when Jon entered the room. His cousin sat on a small cot and Jon saw a fleeting look up panic cross his face before Robb recognised him. Robb looked like a broken man. He sported a black eye. The other one looked red from lack of sleep. Jon also noticed a split lip and too many bruises to count. The stubble on his chin completed the haggard look. Under the coat, he caught a glimpse of his cousin’s left arm that was heavily bandaged including his left hand.

Jon was at his side in an instant and embraced him carefully trying not to touch any of his injuries. He was glad he had ordered Greywind to stay in the courtyard. Robb wasn’t in a fit state to deal with an overzealous pet right now.   
“It is all right now Robb. We are here to take you home. Ramsay Snow is dead. Rhaegal saw to that. He cannot hurt you anymore.”

“Are you sure? Are you very sure?” Robb slowly turned his head and dull eyes with undisguised fear in them briefly looked at Jon before his cousin dropped his head and stared at his lap. 

“He told me how he fed his father to the dogs. Limb by limb he cut off. He boasted that he made the man watch as the hounds fed on his own flesh.” Robb voice sounded terrible. He scraped his throat and winced. 

“He said I was lucky his stepmother was so fat. She would last long enough for him to have plenty of time to skin me before it was my turn to become dog food. He is a monster, Jon.” Robb’s voice sounded hoarse and was scarcely more than a whisper. Jon felt Robb shiver in his arms.

He heard the men who had been helping Robb dress whisper to Lord Umber. Probably more horrific details he didn’t need to hear right now. He carefully tightened his arm that lay on Robb’s shoulders.

“Was, Robb, he was a monster. He is dead now. We have come to take you home. I’ll see you safe to Winterfell if it is the last thing I’ll do. My dragons will protect us, Greywind and Ghost as well.” He put as much confidence in his tone as he could muster.

“I didn’t tell him, Jon.” I didn’t tell him about you.” Robb shook his head frantically. “He wanted to know though. He wanted to know about the dragonrider.” Blue Tully eyes looked faithfully into the grey Stark orbs of his cousin.

“You are very brave Robb. But I knew that already. Let’s talk about that later, though. Let’s just concentrate on getting you out of here.” He startled when Robb moved away from him but relaxed when he realised that is was to accept a cup of water from someone who had newly entered the room. His cousin drank its contents eagerly, looking disappointed when the cup was empty.

“So thirsty, I was so thirsty the entire time.” Robb moaned still somewhat out of breath from drinking the content of the cup in one go without pausing to breathe. 

“He said if I wanted to drink he would make water in the chamber pot for me. He is mad Jon, his eyes, his face, he is fucking mad. I almost drank it one day, Jon. Luckily the guards smuggled water in without Ramsay knowing from time to time. I would have drunk it if not for them.” Robb lowered his head too ashamed to look anyone in the eye.

“You were brave enough to do what is necessary to stay alive, Robb. And you are still alive. Snow is not. He is dead. We’ll get you all the water you want. Come on, let us help you downstairs.” Jon gently coaxed his cousin. 

He was at a loss here. How did you deal with this? Robb seemed to have lost his confidence, his courage. No lesson had ever prepared Jon for such a situation. He didn’t want to patronize or diminish his cousin in the eyes of this bannermen but Robb needed help now. Perhaps they even needed to carry him down.

“Lean on me, Robb. You’ll feel better once you are away from this cell. Some fresh air and seeing the faces of your loyal bannermen will make it more real. You are free Robb. It is over.”

Jon helped Robb stand and let him lean heavily on his shoulder. “Greatjon, will you assist us please.”

The big man who had been watching the scene took two large steps and stood beside them. “So you two really know each other and are friends?”

“Like brothers.” Robb looked the Greatjon in the eye. “Like brothers.” He repeated and sighed lowering his head again looking exhausted. “Don’t hurt him.” 

“I wouldn’t dare. I thought dragons burned people. This green dragon just bit Ramsay Snow’s head off and spit it out.” The big man told Robb Stark gleefully.

“Well, how else could he have killed the bastard without harming Uncle Benjen or any of you for that matter?” Jon said relieved that Robb had been able to utter a few words to his bannerman in defense of his cousin. It reassured him that Robb was aware of the situation somewhat. 

“We couldn’t use dragonfire,” he completed his explanation.

That silenced Lord Umber for a moment. Jon and Umber worked together to get Robb safely down the narrow staircase. It took some effort but between the two of them they managed it. Lord Umber half-carried Robb part of the way.

“Where have they put Uncle Benjen?” Jon asked the people that gathered around them as soon as Robb was down. “Perhaps we can install Robb in the same room.” Greywind followed them without pushing for Robb’s attention.

“Follow me,” Lord Karstark offered. Robb flanked by his cousin and the Greatjon stumbled in the direction of the main rooms of the Dreadfort.

Jon addressed the Lords that still followed them. “I think it is best to leave here as soon as my uncle and cousin are able to travel. Best see if there are wagons we can confiscate to carry them home. I saw several men of the Stark houseguard amongst the attackers. They can form a proper escort. Edric Dayne and Brienne of Tarth can help make the arrangements. Loras Tyrell needs to accompany us back as well. I am sure anyone else that wishes to come along will be welcome at Winterfell.”

Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, is anyone of you willing to set matters to rights here? Until Lord Stark decides the fate of the men at the Dreadfort and appoints a new Lord someone needs to take charge.”

“Lord Bolton, I mean Domeric Bolton is here, my Lord uh my Prince?” Lord Umber remarked.

“I’ll talk to Benjen Stark but I think as matters stand Domeric Bolton will be a guest at Winterfell until House Stark decides whether he will still be allowed to become the next Lord of the Dreadfort. We will vouch for him though. The information he volunteered helped us come up with a perfect plan.”

“Jon, I need to sit down and soon.” Robb complained and Jon could feel his cousin lean more heavily on him now.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Jon quickly told the Greatjon. He felt guilty for not seeing to Robb’s comfort first. He focussed all his attention on getting Robb inside where he could rest. 

“Almost there, Robb.” Jon was out of breath when his cousin fell down in a chair next to the makeshift bed his uncle was lying on. He really needed to gain back his strength and soon. What a time to take that potion. He could add another stupid decision to his growing list of mistakes. The sound of a throat clearing made him aware he was daydreaming.

“Uncle Benjen,” Jon was on his knees next to his uncle straightaway. “How are you feeling?”

“As if an arrow pierced my gut?” he joked. “I’ll be fine, Jon. The Maester told me my armour slowed the arrow down and prevented it from going in too deep. Nothing vital has been hurt. It entered sideways and made an ugly large tear that needed to be stitched but didn’t damage anything important. Apparently I fell to my knees for a flesh wound and am not really proud of myself. If I restrain from coughing and laughing the next few days, I will be all right. So no lame jokes if you please.”

“I brought Robb to see you, Uncle. “ Jon retreated a bit and let his uncle and cousin embrace each other clumsily in order not to hurt one another.

“So you are really part of the family? How come we never saw you around?” Greatjon Umber nudged Jon lightly. 

“Benjen Stark visited me often enough. Robb was fostered out for a year, remember? And I did visit Winterfell once and the Wall as well when I was barely twelve. And as you know, Robb was present when I defended the Stony Shore.” Jon summarized their relationship in a few sentences.

“Fostered at Greywater Watch, yes I remember. Lord Reed uh, the sly bastard.” Lord Umber remarked.

“Slyer than you think, but a great foster-father all the same. I also spent several years at the Driftmark and have recently taken possession of Dragonstone.” Jon added.

“Uh, and what is your name, Prince of Dragonstone. I believe you were formally introduced as Aegon but if I am not mistaken you answer when your kin calls you Jon?”

“Well they couldn’t use my real name for obvious reasons, so I was given the name of Jon Celtigar. The widowed Lady Celtigar who lives at the Driftmark was my foster-grandmother. I’ve only known since my twelfth nameday that I am Prince Aegon Targaryen, pleased to meet you, Lord Umber.” Jon made a formal bow but his eyes twinkled.

“And what are your plans for the North, ‘Prince’.” The man ignored the tentative friendship offer of Jon. “Are we to kneel before you and fight your bloody wars so you can sit upon the Iron Throne?”

“I thought we agreed not to talk about politics, Lord Umber.” Jon had sobered and looked at his uncle and cousin who were both talking, their faces close together identical expressions of pain but mostly relief on their faces. 

“But I’ll answer your question. Your liege Lord and Warden of the North has pledged fealty to me. He will stand by my side when I make my claim. You should realise that he has been gathering support for me in secret for more than seventeen years. We are well-prepared. We will try to skip the war and the bloodshed when we make a beeline for the throne soon.” Jon didn’t blink when he met the stern stare of the Northern Lord.

“Mmmh, you will not ask for our swords?” The Greatjon asked looking sceptical.

Lord Umber was just testing him now, Jon was almost sure of it. He kept his voice blank when he answered. “Lord Stark might, but most likely it will be symbolically only. He will declare that the North stands behind me and you all not contradicting him will hopefully be as much as will be asked of you on that front at least. But please no more talk of politics for now.”

“Do not pester my nephew, Greatjon. You will know everything soon enough. Jon, I suggest we do not leave here today. Let us make preparations for a warm wholesome meal tonight with all the men of the North who have gathered here. Now that they have met you and your dragons, they are entitled to know what is to come and what their Liege Lord expects of them.”

“I agree, Uncle. I will address them formally. He addressed his cousin who sat stiffly in a chair near the headrest of their uncle’s bed. “Robb you need not attend if you are not up to it. Uncle Benjen can represent your interests.” 

Robb’s eyes were a bit more alert when he replied. “We’ll see, Jon. Let me first eat something. It is only morning. If I can rest most of the day I might be well enough. Will you let Greywind come to me now? He has been patient long enough. He must really obey you to keep his distance for this long.”

“I try.” Jon answered dryly and turned his head to look at Greywind. Human and animal stared at each other for a moment before the direwolf bowed his head to Jon. Everyone in the room looked on with amazement as they witnessed the large direwolf walk over to the heir of Winterfell at a sedate pace, calmly settle down at his feet and put his head in his master’s lap in a very gentle and devoted manner. Jon just shrugged his shoulders which made the Greatjon chortle at first only to burst out in deep loud hearty laughter the next moment, his big belly was shaking as he slapped it.

“Ouch!” Benjen Stark exclaimed. “I warned you not to make me laugh.” Even Robb looked amused.  
Jon allowed a smile to appear on his face as well. Things would be all right. 

 

***

 

**Interlude 25: The Prince Who Was Promised**

 

“Not again.” Thoros of Myr complained out loud seeing the red priestess approach. He had lost count how often she had come to interrogate him. At first he had not cooperated and stayed silent, unwilling to offer any information to the woman who had burned his friend and loyal companion alive. But she had found the argument that made him talk time and again although he had nothing new left to say.

Immediately upon their arrival they had been apprehended. Even before they had uttered their names, guards had seized them and imprisoned him. They had tied his friend to a pole on the cliff. The red priestess, Melisandre had seen their arrival in the flames and had convinced Prince Stannis Baratheon that they were traitors. That very same night, he had heard the screams of his friend while he was burned alive. He had not been able to see it from his prison cell but he knew very well what had happened to his friend. 

His fellow prisoners had informed him it was a recurring event these days at Storm’s End. Just before dark, they would light fires on the cliffs and worship the Lord of Light. And when it fancied the red woman, she would pick someone from the prison cells and offer him up to her Lord of Light. She even had the nerve to burn Edric Storm, the royal bastard that had been fostered at Storm’s End under the protection of Prince Renly all these years. 

When Thoros of Myr had uttered his disbelief, they had convinced him that Prince Stannis himself had given her permission. Apparently she had promised him the Lord of Light would bless Stannis even more when he offered Him royal blood. As it happened, days later, the royal decree had arrived that proclaimed Prince Stannis the official Lord of Storm’s End and first in line to inherit the Iron Throne. After that Prince Stannis had been even more inclined to heed the words of the Red Priestess or so his fellow prisoners had told him. 

Some still had connections with the servants and got snippets of information and extra food whenever possible. When Thoros had expressed his hopes for more substantial help from them they had disabused him. Nobody dared to help them escape. The servants lived in constant fear of ending up as the evening’s sacrifice. One small misstep and the Red Priestess just pointed her finger at them and their fate was sealed. His fellow prisoners had told him they were grateful for what they brought and had learned not to plead for more so as not to scare the few brave ones away and be left totally isolated.

So far, Melisandre had not wanted to burn him. She always asked him what he knew, what R’hllor had revealed to him about the Prince Who Was Promised. He sighed, and steeled himself for the coming interrogation.

“Thoros of Myr, I have come bearing food and drink. Let us talk some more.” Melisandre seated herself on the chair in his solitary cell. A servant brought food, drink and a bustle of wood for his cold lonely cell. 

He had only spent one night in the common cell. The day after his friend had been offered to R’hllor, he had been moved to a solitary cell so the red priestess could interrogate him in private. She had been pale that day and had asked him about their true purpose in coming to Storm’s End.   
Still in shock after the death of his friend and long time travel companion he had not spoken one word to her that night. She had given up after a while and warned him she would seek council in the flames once more and would be back.

The next night she had introduced a few children to him. Birds sent from the capital to spy on her. Each day he talked to her and cooperated was a day longer these children would get to live. If he refused to talk or was caught in a lie, a child would die. So he had talked.

“Why did you kill my friend?” He had started their first conversation on his terms.

“You came here to spy. He was guilty of that. His death was necessary. The flames burned brighter that night and for the first time in moons the Lord of Light showed me the Prince Who Was Promised again.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Lord Dondarrion knew about the Prince and you do as well. You also believe the Long Night will come in our lifetime and only the Prince Who Was Promised can save us. We must work together.” She had tried to stare right through him, willing him with her eyes to cooperate.

“I thought you already found your Prince, my Lady. I know you have Stannis Baratheon convinced that he is the one who was promised.”

“I admit I did. Before your friend burned, I was convinced he was the one I saw in the flames. He fitted all my expectations. Prince Stannis believes in the Lord of Light and he heeds my guidance.”

“Then why are you here? Why do you need my cooperation so badly?

“I told you. I saw something in the flames when your friend burned. I sensed the power of the Lord of Light. You resurrected Lord Dondarrion, didn’t you? Several times if I am correct.” 

He tried not to let her unwavering stare affect him. “I did. But he is dead to stay now. You have seen to that.” Thoros’s voice had betrayed his grief.

“I am sorry. If I had known your quest was the same as mine I would not have burned him. R’hllor showed me I was wrong to burn him.” She had looked at him beseechingly. “Why have you come to Storm’s End. What do you know about the true Prince Who Was Promised?” This time she had deepened her voice to try and seduce him into confiding in her.

“I know Stannis Baratheon is a false Prince. I saw the true Prince in the flames in the far north when Stannis was here in the south. We came to warn you that you were wrong but look how that turned out. Why should I still want to help you? You are no true servant of the Lord of Light. You are just a murderess threatening to kill innocent children. I will pray to the Lord of Light that he may strike you down the next time you burn an innocent man, woman or child without just reason.” 

Melisandre had been taken aback and had left that day only to come back the next, and the next. Thoros had lost count.

And now she was here again. Thoros didn’t know if he looked forward to sparring with her because of the fact that his solitary confinement was slowly making him mad or because he relished the fact that she looked more haggard each time he saw her. The confident stately woman that had strode in his prison cell the first night was replaced by a tired woman in dirty clothing. 

“Good evening, my Lady. I see you are once more in need of my council.” He taunted her. He would never forgive her for the fate of his friend.

“Are you willing to help today then?” She looked him in the eyes. “I am going to build a fire and we are both going to pray to the Lord of Light. Perhaps he can convince you to work with me. We have the same goal, Thoros. If only you would believe that.”

“How is Prince Stannis treating you these days, my Lady?” he ignored her statement. “Am I right when I surmise you have fallen out of favour?”

“He has fallen out of mine. He is no longer willing to go north. He is planning” She stopped.

“Tell me, Melisandre. What is he planning? Will he hurt the Prince Who Was Promised or does he threaten to hurt you?”

Melisandre put a hand on her abdomen in a protective gesture. He will not hurt me. I carry his child. Let us both look in the fire today. I am prepared to release you today if you tell me all you know.” 

That was a new tactic. He pondered her words. “If I tell you what I see in this fire you are going to make, you will release me?” he reformulated her promise. He finally knew what she wanted from him. The woman was pregnant and probably hoped her child with royal blood could be the Prince Who Was Promised.

“I will.” She promised him and bent over to gather the firewood.

“Then I will make the fire myself. Just pass it to me.” He picked the dry wood up from the floor and quickly built a fire in the corner near a window.

A while later they were both staring at the fire until their eyes hurt. Nothing happened.   
“The Lord of Light will not show us a message unless we offer him something.” She concluded her voice betraying utter disappointment.

“The Lord of Light does not favour you any longer.” Thoros retorted, still not able to feel sympathetic towards her. “I guess that means I am not being released.” He looked resigned. “Will you burn me next?”

“That will not be necessary. Goodbye, Thoros.” She gathered her robes around her and quickly left the small cell that was now filled with smoke without looking back.

 

Thoros resigned himself to spending another night in the cold cell and lay down on the ground. He finally was dosing off when two guards noisily entered his cells and emptied a bucket of water over him. 

“Make yourself presentable. Prince Stannis wants to see you.”

Thoros scrambled to his feet and used the inside of his cloak to wipe the water and dirt off his face and hands. They pushed him in front of them and told him to march to the main building. He was unceremoniously shoved into a room. When he looked around he saw only Stannis standing before a window. The Baratheon Prince turned around when the doors closed with a loud bang.

“Thoros of Myr?” When Thoros nodded silently the Prince looked at him with a stern face.  
“I received a message from the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark. Apparently the King asks for my return to the capital and to bring a certain Lord Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr who are currently my guests with me. Why didn’t you tell me you were a royal emissary?”

“We were not given a chance to speak.” Thoros spat out. He could not bring himself to use the loathsome man’s title to address him.

“I will not apologize for the fate of Lord Dondarrion. He should have spoken up. Be glad you are still alive. I am sending you to the capital today. You can tell my brother that I am not accepting his invitation. I was never one to attend tournaments, the King knows that.” Stannis Baratheon turned away, ready to leave the room.

“Will you allow me to take the children with me to King’s Landing at least? I mean the ones that you have imprisoned under the pretext that they are spies”

Stannis Baratheon turned back and frowned at the red priest. “Are you claiming they are not?”

“I do not know either way. But they are just children and even if they came here to spy, then that was only because they were manipulated into it. They are just small children. The red priestess told me they were apprehended before they could learn anything useful.”

When he noticed that Stannis was considering his request seriously, he added.   
“I’ll forgive you for Lord Dondarrion’s unlawful execution and speak up for you with King Robert.”

“I don’t care what my brother’s thinks. But I will grant you your wish. I want you gone before nightfall.” Stannis Baratheon left the room without looking back.

Thoros didn’t hesitate. Eager not to run into Melisandre he quickly gathered the children and left Storm’s End cursing Prince Stannis and the red woman. The only intelligence he had been able to gather for Lord Reed was that the red priestess and Prince Stannis were both raving mad and unpredictable. He wished he had never undertaken the journey to Storm’s End. At least he had been allowed to bring the children with him. 

 

***

 

The second day on the road the oldest of the girls came to sit next to him when they stopped to eat a small portion of the provisions a Baratheon guard had handed him just before they departed. The guard had also brought another girl to take along, declaring she had been separated from the rest since it was her turn to be interrogated. It was that girl that now sought his company.

“Are we really going to King’s Landing to see the King?” She asked in a timid voice.

He looked at her curiously. Her accent, or rather lack of one, made him aware that she had been brought up amongst nobles. The hood she always wore concealed the better part of her face so he couldn’t really see what she looked like.

“Do you have kin in King’s Landing?” he asked wondering which household she had grown up in.

She now turned her face to him and dropped the hood. “I am the King’s niece.” She stated simply. “Mother sent me away before father could burn me.”

 

That night Thoros of Myr didn’t stay awake to ponder why his friend had died and what the purpose of the Lord of Light had been when he sent them on this quest. He was grateful he had saved several children from a horrible painful death and one Princess from a mad and cruel parent. He now prayed that her mother would stay safe. Perhaps the fact that she only married royalty would save her since her blood was not strictly king’s blood. If Prince Stannis needed royal blood, he’d just had to burn himself. A man could dream, couldn’t he? For the first time since arriving at Storm’s End, Thoros slept rather well.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Jon copes with the Lords of the North and reunites with Arya.  
> The interlude takes place on the Iron Islands.


	26. The support of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon garners the support of the Lords of the North and escorts Robb back to Winterfell.  
> The interlude features Ironborn mingling with the two members of the Golden Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta Ravenousreadr for her unwavering patience and support.

* 

It had taken Jon just less than two days to garner the support of every Lord of the North present at the Dreadfort. And that not only for his cause but also to help the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk. Benjen shook his head. His nephew had amazed everyone with his speech tonight. Even Benjen had not known beforehand what Jon had intended. Jon had reassured him afterwards that his Uncle Ned and Davos Seaworth knew of his plans for the North and it was not something he had agreed to on the spur of the moment.

It had been a busy day at the Dreadfort. Everyone who had taken up arms against them had been locked up, all the male servants at the Dreadfort as well for safety purposes. They didn’t protest however. Jon gathered that they were treated better now that they were prisoners than when they were forced to serve their cruel Lords. Jon had reassured them personally that the dragons would not harm them and they would be treated decently and be given proper food and sufficient liquids the entire time they were being kept confined. Lord Stark would decide their fate. That statement, more than anything else, had put their minds at ease. 

Lady Brienne had come up to Jon and asked him to become his sworn sword once more. Jon had taken her request seriously and responded that he needed more than a sworn sword. He needed a loyal member for his Kingsguard to replace Sandor Clegane and would she be willing to take on that position.

“My Lord, I am not a knight. I am a woman. I only have my sword to offer.” She had stammered.

“I have seen you fight when we travelled together in the Riverlands, my Lady. Ser Arthur was very impressed and I was as well. Let me repeat my offer a bit more clearly then. Are you willing to be knighted and become a permanent member of my Kingsguard? I will be making several reforms as soon as I have the authority. One of them will be the appointment of people to certain positions because of their worth and abilities, no longer based upon their gender, the name of their house or their wealth.”

He had touched her shoulder. “Now my Lady, what shall it be?” Jon had not been in doubt of her answer. Robb and Edric had written him of her struggles and ambitions.

“I would be honoured, my Prince.” She had kneeled before him. “I vow I will be your most loyal subject.”

“I have the highest regard for your honour, my Lady and am grateful that you find me and my cause worthy enough to lend it your sword. I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” Jon had looked at her and had noticed that she had been moved beyond words. 

“I solemnly promise that knighting you will be one of my first acts when I am instated as the King of the Seven Kingdoms. If that takes longer than expected, I’ll ask Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan or Ser Oswell to do the honours. The first one that is available can perform the task.”

“Oh no, my Prince, I would be honoured if you were the one to do it. I can wait for the title. The duties on the other hand I will assume as soon as Lord Stark releases me from my duties to his household.” She stood back up, her eyes shining with devotion and pride.

“I intend to join you all at Winterfell. We can straighten the matter out then and there. For the time being, can you help us organise things here?”

After having given her a few instructions, Jon had left to find writing equipment and someone to send the ravens to Dragonstone and King’s Landing. They would all be anxious to hear that Robb was saved and everyone was all right. He had known the Lords had already dispatched a message to Lady Catelyn by raven and sent a messenger as well to bring her more details. 

Jon would be glad to be at Winterfell soon. He would be more at ease there and could write a longer message to Dragonstone then. Now he had just written a few short sentences so he could get on with business. He would be more than happy to leave this dreary castle. If he was Domeric Bolton, he’d tear the whole thing down, build a new stronghold and change the sigil while he was at it.

In the end, everyone had worked together and come evening, the great hall had been filled with bannermen of House Stark. Loras Tyrell had escorted a few servants to the village and had come back with a wagonload of food. The female servants had done their best to put a decent meal on the table. Some had cried with relief when they had heard Ramsay Snow was dead. 

Nobody who would have entered the Dreadfort that evening for the first time and stepped into the well-lit great hall buzzing with happy excited voices could have guessed the horrors that had taken place here less than a day ago.

Robb sat at the high table, his left arm still heavily bandaged but some colour had already returned to his cheeks. Jon sat to his right and Benjen Stark sat to Jon’s right. Despite Jon’s protests that they not overextend themselves, both had wanted to be there when Jon confronted the Lords of the North. Benjen Stark knew better than his nephews how stubborn and proud the Lords could be. Several had visited him that afternoon supposedly to wish him well but everyone had wanted to hear about the Prince. Where did the Targaryen come from? Why did he have such a close bond with Robb? Was Lord Stark really on board with all this? Did Benjen Stark really trust him? Where were the dragons hiding out now? Benjen had told them just enough to stall them till tonight.

When most of the food had been consumed, Jon stood up to raise a toast. The scraping of his chair made everyone aware something was up and the room fell silent when they saw the young dragonrider ready to make a toast.

“To House Stark!” He raised his cup. “To House Stark that has reigned the North for thousands of years and will for thousands more.”

“To House Stark!” They echoed but it was not wholeheartedly. It was not what they had been waiting to hear from the unexpected saviour of Robb Stark.

“My Lords of the North, loyal bannermen to House Stark and everyone present here tonight who helped free my cousin, Robb Stark, I know you all have questions. I know you only met me today, but I trust you have all witnessed my devotion to House Stark and the love I have for my cousin who is as a brother to me and for whom I have flown almost non-stop across half of Westeros. I am speaking the truth when I tell you that I consider Benjen Stark to be more of a father to me than an uncle.” 

Both men shared a fond look that went a long way to convince his more reticent listeners. 

“Lord Eddard Stark is a dear uncle and a most trusted ally. I consider myself part of House Stark, a part of the North, the blood of the Kings of Winter flows through my veins.”

He paused trying to gauge their reaction but couldn’t read much off their blank faces.  
“Your Liege Lord, Eddard Stark has sheltered me and given me an education fit for a King. Your Warden of the North has been preparing for a Targaryen restoration from the moment I was born.”

Murmurs started and a Lord tried to ask him a question. Jon raised his voice to rise above the commotion.

“Please let me speak, my Lords. I will give you a chance to voice your opinion as soon as I have finished.” 

He needed to wait a few moments more before he judged he had their full attention again.

“Lord Stark and several allies all over the Seven Kingdoms have been working tirelessly for more than seventeen years. We have the Vale on our side, the Riverlands, House Lannister, or whatever remains of it has agreed do whatever my uncle orders them to. Soon Dorne will be on our side and we have a large part of the Crownlands that supports us.”

“Thanks to the North and the Riverlands, we also have a large fleet at our disposal and two fire breathing dragons. It won’t be long before I can claim back the throne that was taken away from my family when lies about my father and mother were falsely spread by Petyr Baelish. He was the culprit that prevented Lyanna Stark’s letter with the necessary explanations reach her father and brothers. I will retake the throne for house Targaryen and will do so with minimal bloodshed. I promise you that.”

“Please my Lords. I am almost finished.” Jon once more needed to raise his voice to be heard over the whispers and exclamations.

“I fully realise I owe most of my assets and my current strength and support to the North, more specifically to Lord Eddard Stark. I will reward him the moment I take the throne.” 

He paused dramatically, now that he had once more gained their attention.

“Just as the North does, I will _‘remember’_ and I will reward the Warden of the North and the entire North will benefit from this reward.” 

Another pause. Jon made sure he had everyone’s attention. Like an actor knowing his most important lines of the play were at hand he stood a bit straighter and made his voice even more persuasive. 

“My first order of business will be to declare that the Northern most Kingdom will become a Principality effective as soon as I am formally instated as King and have the authority to do so. All male members of House Stark will carry the title of Princes of the North. Henceforth, all female members will be addressed as Princesses of the North. But perhaps more important to you all, the North will be exempt from taxes for twenty years, a period that will start on the first day of my reign to recompense the North for financing my cause for these past seventeen years.”

“Please hear me out my Lords.” Once again Jon needed to raise his voice and appeal to them to let him continue.

“The only taxes the North will be obliged to pay during these years are those due to the Night’s Watch. I will grant the North full autonomy on economic matters. The North will stay a part of the Seven Kingdoms. However this alliance will be predominantly military. I will protect the North as the North will stand by the rest of the Kingdoms.”

Jon paused and looked around ready to hear their reactions. This time there were none. 

“Well my Lord, I have finished, now it is your turn.”

“Does my brother know?” Benjen Stark was the first to react, clearly as surprised by Jon’s plans as the rest of his audience.

“Lord Eddard Stark knows of my plans and supports me.” Jon took a scroll out of his pocket and showed the seal to them. This scroll was written by uncle Eddard’s hand. I will read a small part out loud. You don’t need to trust my word. You can read your Liege Lord’s words yourself. I will pass it to you afterwards. 

_Honourable Lords of the North and trusted bannermen of House Stark,  
_ _If you read this scroll, my nephew, Lyanna’s son will be standing before you. I need neither introduce him nor describe his worth. I am convinced that a small time in his presence will convince you all that he is a true son of the North, has a noble heart and has our best interests in mind. I have pledged myself to his cause and will help him reclaim his rightful throne. If he has not already convinced you, I trust my word will be enough for you all to follow my lead._

“I’ll let you read the rest yourselves. I can only add that this is a unique opportunity for the North. For the first time in the history of the Seven Kingdoms you can have a ruler with Stark blood on the Iron Throne, raised by House Stark. I have been taught the northern values. I worship the Old Gods. I have my own direwolf, just as the five Stark siblings. I am as much a Stark as I am a Targaryen.”

“When do you intend to take the throne? Would you have told us before you did it if your cousin hadn’t needed rescuing?” A voice at the lower end of the table shouted. 

Jon looked to see who had spoken these words. He only hesitated slightly to recall the name of the House that belonged to the sigil of a brown bullmoose with black antlers on orange. 

“Lord Hornwood I presume?”

The man nodded in acknowledgement.

“The exact timing is not yet fixed. It will happen sooner rather than later but we are waiting on news from the Night’s Watch. I hope all of you have read the reports from your Liege Lord concerning the situation beyond the Wall. If an enemy attack is imminent, it will take precedence and I will have to delay going South to take back my family’s throne.”

Jon looked around as if to check who had taken notice of the reports of the Warden of the North. Several Lords avoided eye contact. Jon turned his attention back to Lord Hornwood.

“I will now answer the other part of your question.” His voice took on a slightly patronizing tone. 

“I would have told every Lord who had come to the Wall to assist us there who I am. My dragons and I have been helping beyond the Wall for a while now. I have faced the army of the dead and have helped the people who live there. I will face that enemy again if it threatens to attack once more.” 

He refrained from adding ‘will you?’ It would not do to alienate them now that they were listening. Besides he didn’t know the exact content of Lord Stark’s message to his bannermen. Perhaps his words had been too strong already. He had silenced them apparently. Lord Hornwood had taken his seat again and stared at his plate.

“House Umber has sent a healer to Castle Black and a Blacksmith to Eastwatch to assist.” The Greatjon defended their House.

“House Karstark was preparing a delegation to negotiate with the Lord Commander. We have sent a message more than a sennight ago but have not heard back.” The Lord of Karhold was quick to join in.

A few other similar remarks could be heard. Several Lords began talking amongst themselves once more.

“My Lords,” Jon tried but couldn’t get them to stop talking amongst themselves. “My Lords,” he tried again, this time louder. 

He looked at Robb apologetically before turning his eyes to Greywind. The large wolf sprang upon a table amidst the Lords that were creating most of the disturbance and growled showing his big sharp teeth.

“Thank you Greywind,” Jon said when everyone had stopped what they were saying and stared in shock at the intimidating stance of the large direwolf. Although they all felt threatened by the large wolf, nobody drew a weapon not daring to harm the animal of Robb Stark.

“My Lords, please hear me out. I am not aware of the exact state of communications between Lord Stark and you all. I can inform you all that Lord Commander Mormont has died and has been replace by Cotter Pyke. Perhaps communications have been muddled. For the moment there is no imminent threat. Scouts are monitoring the situation. The enemy has regrouped in the far north for the time being. Just be prepared if a call for help should come. As far as I can tell, at the moment it is not as much fighting men we lack but logistics: wagons, arms, food, warm clothing and perhaps, but I hope it won’t come to that, shelter for refugees, mostly women and children.” 

Greywind had jumped down from the table and trotted back to Robb while the Lords listened to Jon’s words.

“Wildlings?!” Lord Karstark voice betrayed he didn’t believe his ears.

“Free Folk,” Jon corrected the gently. “Is a child any less precious because it was born on the other side of the Wall?”

“Lord Stark,” Greatjon Umber asked Benjen Stark. “What have you to say about all this?”

“Without my nephew and his dragons I wouldn’t be sitting here.” Benjen remarked calmly. Everyone kept silent to hear what Benjen Stark had to say. They needed to strain their ears to understand his words, since the injured Lord did not raise his voice. 

“I saw with my own eyes how his dragons burned hundreds of wights, I mean walking dead men, the enemy.” He clarified. 

“I saw with my own two eyes how my nephew killed a White Walker on the ground in single combat and how that act made hundreds of wights drop dead for good. This young man was the first one to kill a White Walker in thousands of years. He has faced the enemy beyond the Wall several times already and is willing to put his life in danger again to help us. If ever he needs my help, hells I’ll give it to him before he can even ask. That is what I have to say about this.” He turned his head slowly to look all of them in the eyes one by one.

“And if you need to hear my opinion about the Free Folk, I have met them personally. I was their guest at one of their settlements. They are people like you and I. They just do not have the benefit of our culture, our education. However, wildling fathers love their children, wildling husbands love their wives. They defend their weak just as we do. I fought beside them when we faced an enemy too numerous to defeat on our own. They were fierce and courageous in the sight of certain death before my nephew and his dragons swooped in to change our odds.”

“The fact is, we need to band together to survive. If we do not, and the Free Folk on their own can’t stop the dead from breaking through the Wall, this dangerous mystical enemy is coming for us all, more numerous than ever since it will have added a hundred thousand of these so-called Wildlings to its ranks.” 

“My father pledged fealty to him and I as well.” Everybody shifted their attention to see Robb Stark try to stand up with some difficulty.

Edric Dayne immediately made a move to support him. Loras Tyrell stood at the ready at his other side should he need extra support. 

“My cousin may count only seventeen namedays, my Lords but he has done more for the North than most anyone present here. He has saved the people at the Stony Shore from the largest Ironborn attack ever to come to our Shores. Euron Greyjoy wanted to cement his new reign over Pyke with a large raid and came to our shores with twenty seven ships armed to the teeth. “ Robb cleared his throat a few times.

“My cousin and his two dragons send them back with less than half their men and ships. Not a single northerner was injured. He saved my uncle’s life beyond the Wall facing a dangerous enemy that outnumbered him and had him cornered.” Now it was Robb that used a dramatic pause to let the Lords ponder his words.

“He is instrumental in making the Free Folk and the Night Watch work together for the first time in …“ He looked sheepishly at Jon, “well I can’t even recall in how long but that should say enough. He provided logistic support to the Free Folk. But more importantly, the moment he found out the enemy had a weakness and could be killed by obsidian, volcanic glass, he made it his mission to find more of this material and has brought it north for us.” 

Robb’s voice had gotten hoarser and Edric handed him a cup of water. Robb took it with a grateful nod and took a few sips before putting it back on the table. The proud Lords made not a single remark. They all waited for the heir to Winterfell to finish what he had to say. Robb resumed his appeal.

“He saved me today even though he was sick and very far away when the call for help arrived. He is willing to delay his own cause to fight for the North, to fight the enemy beyond the Wall. And after he saves are sorry arses what does he promise us? He promises us a King of the Seven Kingdoms that has the best interest of the North in mind. He is a wolf of the North even if he is a dragon as well. He will give the North more autonomy, exempt it from taxes and only asks for a military alliance.”

Robb’s voice had once more cracked and he reached for his cup to take a few more sips.

“Here is our chance to support a King who was raised with northern values and worships the Old Gods. My honourable father vouches for him and has pledged himself to him. My Lords, what more do you want?” Robb looked around seeing several Lords nod. He raised his cup slowly, careful not to lose his balance.

“He may carry the name of House Targaryen, but he looks and acts like a Stark. I say, let’s toast to the Dragonwolf. Long may he reign!”

Robb sat down glad he had been able to finish what he had to say. Jon’s eyes were moist when he raised his cup toward Robb his entire demeanour conveying a silent but heart-felt thanks. Benjen touched Robb’s right arm to signal his appreciation.

At the same time the Lords of the North responded to Robb’s toast. The assembled men in the tent erupted in cheers. “To the Dragonwolf! Long may he reign!” One by one the Northern Lords came up to Jon to thank him and pledge him their support. 

Later that evening after Jon had retired, Benjen overheard several men talking about his nephew. The words that had pleased him most were, ‘clearly Lyanna’s son’, ‘courage’, ‘dragonwolf’, but he had chuckled when they called him an alpha, leader of wolves and talked about how he controlled dragons and wolves as if it were small pets. When they asked Benjen about it he delighted in describing Ghost to them. Everybody wanted to see the young Prince and his ‘white wolf’.

 

***

 

Jon sat on the bed of the room he had been assigned. He was exhausted. He would spend one night in this dreary castle for Benjen and Robb’s sake but intended to depart for Winterfell immediately after breaking their fast. Lord Karstark had promised to let his eldest son stay behind with a few men and manage affairs at the Dreadfort. Lord Umber would coordinate the support between the Northern Lords and the Lord Commander at the Wall. Jon had advised him to ask for Sandor Clegane who could help him coordinate with the Free Folk as well.

He had hardly pulled off one boot when Edric and Loras came into the room. “Come on, Jon. We are all headed for Robb’s room. Let’s enjoy the fact that we are all together again.” 

Jon relented knowing that when Edric had something in mind, he would not give up until he got his way. “All right, all right, but only for a short while. I am tired you know.”

All in all, the time in Robb’s room had relaxed him and had lifted Robb’s spirit visibly. Jon chastised himself for not realising Robb would have trouble sleeping here. The three boys did not leave the room before Robb was sound asleep. They left it to Greywind to keep watch over his human.

 

***

 

Ghost was the one to wake Jon. The guards at the gate had heard all about the exotic looking white direwolf with red eyes and let the enormous beast enter the moment they saw him. Ghost had needed no directions and had stormed to Jon’s room, wasting no time in jumping on Jon’s bed.  
It had been almost a moon since they had last been together. Jon awoke because his face was being besieged by Ghost’s tongue. He didn’t push the wolf away but hugged him tightly. He would savour the days they could be together in the North. Who knows when he needed to fly back south? 

His grumbling stomach made him jump into action. He pushed Ghost of him, hurried through his morning ablutions and went in search for some food. The sooner he ate, the sooner they could leave. When he entered the hall with Ghost by his side, he found Uncle Benjen sitting at the main table talking to a few Stark guards standing close to him. Seeing only a few men about, it became clear to him that Ghost had woken him up rather early.

“Good morning Uncle. I trust you slept well?” Jon nodded a silent greeting at the guards who took up their duty near the table again. 

“Not as well as I liked. I woke up each time I moved. The Maester pulled the bandage rather tight around my waist. I am not looking forward to being hustled about on a wagon for days.” Benjen petted Ghost who had come over to say hello.

“I’m not leaving you behind, Uncle. We’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible. Besides you will have Robb to keep you company.”

“Perhaps you can help me keep my mind distracted with more pleasant thoughts. We did not have time to talk yesterday. Tell me, how is it living on Dragonstone with your beautiful Targaryen Princess?” His uncle motioned him to take a seat next to him.

Jon cursed the colour that rose in his cheeks. He had been trying so hard to stave off any thoughts of Dany and focus on the task at hand. He quickly took the offered seat and tried to keep his face even when he replied. “She is happy to be home and has settled in nicely. She is even attending our meetings and helping Sam with the messages and such.”

“And such, mmmh. Have you made up your mind yet?” The edges of his uncle’s mouth curved slightly upwards.

“Stop teasing, Uncle.” 

“What? I can read the signs as well as the rest of your advisers, my boy. Did you know I forbade them from starting a betting pool?” Benjen Stark no longer tried to suppress his smile.

“Betting on me and Dany? Ser Gerold? Davos?” Jon’s eyes were big as saucers.

“I always said you were a bright boy. Yes on all counts. Dany uh? Tell me, would I have won? Are you betrothed yet?” His uncle’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I am not betrothed to anyone yet, Uncle. Perhaps we could talk about this some other time? I mean when we can talk more privately?” Jon pleaded not ready to discuss this now.

Realising at once by Jon’s dejected demeanour that the subject was more delicate than he had originally surmised, Benjen asked. “Have you written to Dragonstone yet?”

“I have and to Uncle Ned through Varys in King’s Landing as well. Just short messages mind you. I intend to dispatch longer letters to everyone when I am at Winterfell.”

“Maester Luwin will be glad to see you. You have given him a lot of work over these last few years.”

“I was rather looking forward to see Arya, Rickon and uh Sansa again.” Jon looked a bit self-conscious.

Benjen looked at his nephew curiously, noticing the hesitation on Sansa’s name but decided to let Jon tell him at his own pace. He would keep his eyes open though. 

“This trip was a resounding success, Jon. Not only do we have Robb back, you also have garnered the support of the Lords of the North. They are even willing to assist at the Wall. Did you see me getting interrogated by some of the Lords yesterday?”

“I noticed Uncle. You had the tougher audience.” Jon was relieved at the change in subject.

“Well, perhaps you didn’t notice I had some assistance. The Greatjon most valiantly came to your support. He did warn me that he would ask for an explanation from my brother though. He now sees the events of their trip south after the Rebellion in a new light and wants to hear a firsthand account of what exactly happened over there.”

Jon could well understand Lord Umber. He had heard the tale from uncle Ned , more specifically how Lord Stark and Howland Reed had stolen away as thieves in the night only to return the next morning to lead their party to a small house near the Tower of Joy where local farmers loyal to House Dayne had prepared Lyanna Stark’s body for travel. He forced those morbid thoughts of his mother from his mind and remembered what he had wanted to ask his uncle before entering the room.

“Have you sent word to the other bannermen that their assistance is no longer needed, Uncle? I saw the Cerwyn sigil in the courtyard. I reckon that party has just arrived?”

“They arrived last night after you retired, Jon. Be prepared for an audience later. After reading my brother’s letter and hearing about the lifting of the taxes, I reckon it will go rather well though. Robb and I will of course be there to support you. To answer your first question, I did send ravens out to the other houses yesterday, but everyone who heeded our call and has not reached us yet will be somewhere on the road. That can’t be helped Jon.”

They were distracted by Ghost running to the door to greet Greywind. Edric entered the room with Robb by his side, Loras close behind.

“You look a lot better Robb. How are you doing?” His uncle was the first to greet Robb.

Robb took the empty seat at the other side of his uncle. “Much better, Uncle Benjen. I slept well which is somewhat of a miracle between these walls.” 

He stopped speaking when he felt Greywind settle his head in his lap after the wolf had wormed his big body under the table. Ghost somehow had been able to find enough room to do the same and the white head nestled itself on Robb’s other thigh. He welcomed both direwolves by petting their heads, his eyes turning moist when he saw the unconditional love and readiness to protect him in two pairs of loyal eyes. He swallowed, lifted his head and greeted Jon with a nod and a watery smile. 

Turning his attention back to his uncle, he asked, “How soon can we leave, Uncle? I long for Winterfell.”

“As soon as everyone has broken their fast. Everything is organised and ready. The wagons are loaded. I hope you do not mind sharing a wagon with me?”

“I can’t wait to leave this place and I am not able to travel on horseback yet so I take it gladly.” He sighed while he looked at his plate filled with food. “I never thought a person could weaken so fast by withholding liquids and food. I thought people died from hunger but I am sure I would have died from thirst first.” 

“Liquids are vital to one’s survival, Robb. The reason you do not hear about people dying of thirst is because liquids are usually available for free and food needs to be bought. Here in the North you just need to melt some snow and you can drink all you want.” His uncle explained seriously.

“Except when you are being contained and tortured.” Robb retorted bitterly.

Uncle Benjen put his hand over Robb’s. “I am sorry, Robb. I should have sent someone with you. I should never have trusted Greyjoy.”

“You are not to blame, Uncle. I left without telling anyone where I went and with whom. I only have myself to blame. Everyone warned me about Theon. I should have known better. Well, I will never ever forget it. I will carry the reminders on my arm for the rest of my life.” Robb winced when he tried to lift his bandaged arm.

“What exactly did he do to your arm, Robb.” Jon asked taking his eye off both wolves were lying under the table between him and his cousin.

“He peeled the skin off, what else?” Robb shrugged his shoulders slightly annoyed with the question. “One piece every time he came in. He said I would look like a monster when he was done and that he looked forward to the moment that I would be begging him to kill me.” 

“Women love scars, Robb. You have been through hell and survived. Wear those scars as badges of honour. You will look all the stronger for them.” His uncle tried to comfort him.

“That is easy to say Uncle, but so much harder to do.” Robb objected.

“Let’s talk about it again when your wounds are not hurting as much and we can speak in private.”  
Uncle Benjen looked over to see Edric and Loras with their heads close together, apparently deep in conversation. He turned back to Robb and encouraged him to eat.

Lady Brienne entered the room and made a beeline for Jon. “My Prince, we found Theon Greyjoy!”

“You did? Is he alive?” Jon jumped from his chair.

“Well the Maester is tending to him.” She motioned Jon to join her in a corner of the room so they could speak in private. 

“I don’t want to alarm Robb Stark.” She whispered. “One of the female servants came forward and showed us a dungeon were we found Greyjoy tied to … well you know their sigil. Only fortunately for him, he was not tied to it upside down. He is missing several fingers and also his uh, his member, uh.” Lady Brienne’s cheeks were flushed when she stammered her last words.

“I get your meaning, Lady Brienne. Has he been skinned as well? Is he lucid?” Jon ignored her embarrassment.

“His left arm has hardly any skin left, my Prince. He is conscious but not sane. He keeps repeating ‘Reek is sorry, Reek is sorry’, over and over again.” The Maester has given him milk of the poppy. We did not imprison him but I have asked the Maester not to let him leave the room and posted a guard at the door.”

“You handled that well, Lady Brienne. If he is fit to be transported, we will take him with us to Winterfell. We will need a second wagon though. I do not want him anywhere near Robb.”

“We were intending to take two wagons anyway. Theon Greyjoy can be put on the wagon carrying most of the food supplies and materials we need to take along.”

“Excellent. Keep both vehicles as far apart as you can. I want to spare Robb from meeting Theon for a few days or at least until he wants to of course.” He looked over and saw Robb playing listlessly with his food. He looked back at Brienne who now also studied Robb. The concern was evident on her face.

“Lady Brienne, can you summon Lord Domeric? He will miss breakfast if he doesn’t show himself soon.” Jon avoided to mention the name Bolton now. He wondered if Domeric felt ashamed to carry that name and whether he was as reluctant to hear it being used to address him as Jon was to speak it out loud.

“I will, my Prince.” Brienne bowed and left the room.

Jon went back to the table, only now he took a seat across from Robb. Seeing his cousin’s sour mood he tried another approach. “Hey Robb, how do you reckon they succeeded in keeping Arya at home this time?”

 

***

 

The caravan left the Dreadfort a bit later than planned but still long before the sun reached its highest point. The parley with Lord Cerwyn had caused an extra delay. After hearing them out, the Lord had asked for some time to make his decision. He had decided to travel with them to Winterfell so he could take Jon’s measure before committing himself. He had also asked to see the dragons with his own eyes. Jon had obliged him and had connected with Rhaegal and Viserion immediately. 

The four of them had moved outside to the courtyard where the caravan stood ready to depart. Soon enough screeches were heard and the dragons flew in. They were only too eager to show off a bit and had performed a real dance of dragons above the courtyard, staying high enough in the air not to frighten the tiny humans too much. Cheering and even applause had marked the end of the show and the caravan had started to move, leaving the Dreadfort behind. 

It would take four days to travel to Winterfell. Ghost and Greywind led the way often straying from the path to reappear once more. They clearly were enjoying each other’s company. A few Lords of the North had decided to accompany the heir back to Winterfell. Lord Umber rode up front with his men, followed by the wagon carrying the wounded Robb and Benjen Stark. Jon, Loras, Edric and Lady Brienne kept an eye on the wagon and its passengers. The houseguards of house Stark, Domeric Bolton and more bannermen made up the rear and saw to it that the wagon carrying the provisions and the Greyjoy prisoner did not lag behind. Even though nobody was on foot they still progressed rather slowly. 

Jon had had ample time to think about what was next. He wondered what he should write to Yara Greyjoy. Best wait to see if a message from her had arrived at Winterfell. He had asked Sam to warn all their allies that they could contact their Prince at Winterfell. Perhaps Dany had written some of the messages in her fine hand. 

Now that the Lords of the North were on board, he itched to deal with Pyke before he returned to Dragonstone. He would have to decide what to do about Theon Greyjoy first. He needed to speak to Robb and Uncle Benjen about that. They were allowed a say in the matter. For some reason he felt sorry for the Kraken. Whatever he might have done, no man deserved to be tortured like that. Ramsay Snow really knew how to break a man. He tortured his victims physically as well as mentally. 

Theon Greyjoy either didn’t remember his own name or was too afraid to speak it out loud. He made himself as small as he could the moment he perceived movement and feared that someone might approach him. He ate his food without using his hands and drank like a dog, lapping the liquid up out of a bowl using only his tongue. Jon would not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Thinking about Greyjoy made him uneasy so he pushed these thoughts away. Perhaps thinking of Pyke was too premature also. He could well be flying to Eastwatch any day now. 

Reminding himself of his promise to travel alongside Robb, he manoeuvred his horse closer to the wagon and started a conversation with his cousin about his siblings. He tried to listen patiently to Robb’s description of life at Winterfell and hid his impatience at the slow pace of their journey. Traveling by conventional means really got old soon if you were used to the vast distances you could cover in no time on the back of a dragon. 

 

***  
Lady Brienne pulled her horse up next to Jon’s. “Riders approaching, my Prince.” Jon straightened himself revived by the thought that Winterfell was less than half a day’s ride away. 

“I bet it is a welcome party and Arya will be amongst them.” Jon replied with a smile. 

“Warn Robb and Uncle Benjen and ask Robb if he wants to be on horseback when they approach.” 

Jon looked towards the wagon were his uncle and cousin were trying to play a game of cards.  
Robb was gaining strength quickly now that he had access to proper food and drink. Besides not being able to use his left arm that was covered in thick bandages and had been tied against his body to keep it immobilised during the journey, his remaining ailments were more mental than physical. The second day on the road he had even switched places with Jon when the latter, still recovering from his on bout of sickness, welcomed a few hours of rest and had asked Robb whether he felt well enough and fancied to ride a few miles. They had been trading placing keeping their Uncle Benjen occupied. 

He watched Brienne lead a spare horse toward the wagon. She stopped to inform Loras and Edric who were riding side by side. Prince Doran and Lady Olenna could learn something from these two. The Dornish Lord and the younger son of the Lord Paramount of the Reach had been keeping each other company for the better part of the four days they had been travelling.

“Let us all stop here for a moment.” Jon called out. “I need to heed the call of nature.” It was not the absolute truth, his more important motivation being that that way Robb could mount the horse at his leisure. It was not easy to do with his arm incapacitated. Also after the excesses of last night, several men in his party would welcome the unscheduled moment of respite.

“Had too much ale yesterday evening, my Lord?” The jape came from Lord Umber who rode next to him. It was accompanied by a slap of his large hand on Jon’s his shoulders. 

Jon had asked the men to address him as ‘Lord’ instead of ‘Prince’ for the time being. It would make things easier for everyone for now and would give him a chance to inform the necessary parties at Winterfell gradually on his own terms and at a time of his own choosing. The Lords feeling all the more important that they were in on the secret when others weren’t yet had all promised him they would adhere to his wishes. 

His dragons stayed hidden during the day and after dark flew the short distance the humans had covered that day easily enough. Jon had been able to visit them in the woods every night but knew that would probably become more difficult when they reached their destination. They would have to stay hidden at first.

He didn’t react to the forceful thump Lord Umber had just given him. He had only himself to blame if they treated him in this familiar fashion. He had encouraged it last night when they all sat around the campfire and he had volunteered to tell them a story. He had told the story of Uncle Benjen’s rescue beyond the Wall in the way he had learned to do it amongst the Free Folk to capture the imagination of his audience, with slightly exaggerated wording and broad gestures. 

Uncle Benjen had chimed in several times what had only increased the overall hilarity. Add to that the fact that everyone had enjoyed his share of the barrel of ale they had bought at the inn they passed earlier that day and it hadn’t taken long for Jon to be treated as one of them, all titles and formalities forgotten in the cordial, cheerful atmosphere around the campfire. Only Uncle Benjen had complained afterwards that Jon had been cruel to make him laugh so much. 

Jon liked most of the Northern Lords that had lived close enough to answer the call of house Stark for assistance. Lord Karstark perhaps was the more difficult one to please but he had made the effort to enquire after the Lord’s offspring and their marriage prospects which had gone a long way to easing the man’s reluctance and scepticism. 

“I didn’t drink even half as much as you.” Jon replied to Lord Umber’s question. “I bet you the largest pint you can find that Arya Stark is a part of that dust cloud racing toward us.” Jon’s eyes were trained on the party that was fast approaching.

“No northern man present will take you up on that bet. We all know the wild wolf girl and are proud of her. Lady Catelyn hasn’t been able to make a southern Lady of her as she has of her eldest daughter.” Umber looked back and manoeuvred his horse to the left to make place for Robb Stark.

“You make a fine figure on horseback again, my boy. How much are you willing to bet against my statement that Arya is riding toward us to greet you?” Umber immediately addressed the heir of Winterfell.

“Perhaps I should take that bet, Lord Umber. But I will amend it slightly. How much are you willing to bet that her first greeting will be for my cousin, her best friend that she knows as Lord Celtigar?” A significant look was directed at the Greatjon when he stressed Jon’s alias, “And not to her dearest brother who has narrowly escaped untold dangers?” 

“Glad to see you can make fun of it, my Lord.” Lord Umber replied, though he was more careful when he touched the young Lord’s shoulder then had been with the Targaryen Prince. “I’ll bet you the largest pint of ale you can find.” He said this to Robb but winked at Jon when he repeated the Prince’s words.

“Deal,” Robb accepted the bet, straightened himself in the saddle. “We will know soon enough. I am impatient to reach Winterfell though. We will not stop long.”

Jon nodded and noticed Ghost drawing closer. “Go on boy, go find Nymeria. Tell her hello from me.” The direwolf was off in a flash. Greywind looked first at Jon then at Robb and ran after his sibling.

 

***

 

Robb won his bet easily. Although Lord Umber later protested that Robb had still gotten the first hug. Arya had indeed been very vocal when she saw Jon ride up front of the caravan that was bringing her brother home. Now the three cousins were riding side by side, Arya in the middle proud to be flanked by her brother and adopted brother.

 

***

 

A lot of people had come out to the courtyard to greet the heir and current master now that his father was absent although it was not a formal greeting line. Lady Catelyn was in tears and hugged her son carefully as soon as he had managed to dismount assisted by Jon. Sansa and Rickon followed her example but had to be reminded not to touch Robb’s left arm in their initial enthusiasm.

Then Lady Catelyn bowed before Jon in her formal manner. She sounded sincere though when she expressed her thanks.

“You are most welcome at Winterfell, my Lord Celtigar. I cannot begin to express my thanks for coming all this way to rescue my eldest son. You have saved a mother’s heart unimaginable grief.”

“Well met once more, my Lady. But please, do not attribute all the credit to me. It was a joint effort. All your bannermen that lived close enough heeded the call of House Stark. We all played our part. House Stark is lucky to count on the support of so many loyal men.” Jon kept his tone formal as well not really sure how to act around his uncle’s lady wife.

Lady Catelyn acknowledged his words with a small smile and a nod of her head and turned away to greet the rest of the party. Rickon used this opportunity to come up to Jon and asked him if he had brought more presents. Jon ruffled the locks of his youngest cousin affectionately and told him he had not, at least not at this very moment but his friend, the very best blacksmith in Westeros would make something for him as soon as he had mastered the basic moves of swordplay. 

“Perhaps Lady Brienne and I will see you tomorrow morning at the training yard?” He addressed Rickon as well as Arya who had not left his side the moment he had stepped of his horse. 

Both Arya and Rickon nodded fervently but kept their reactions in check so as not to alert their mother. They had both learned well enough that what their mother didn’t know, she could not forbid. 

A shriek from their lady mother however diverted their attention. It was a sight to be seen. Five direwolves were greeting one another with little regard to their environment. Jon could not fault them though. Ghost had neither seen Lady nor Shaggydog again since they had been found in the woods near the Wall. It was only unfortunate that they had bumped into Lady Catelyn who was staring daggers at them. 

“Someone take these beast to the kennels,” she commanded clearly dismayed.

“My Lady, please allow me.” Jon was immediately by her side and took her arm so she would not lose her balance. 

“Ghost is not to be confined at any time.” He warned her, his voice leaving no doubt there would be repercussions if disobeyed. His message delivered he softened his tone. “My Lady, please let me handle this. They will not bother anyone again. Just remember how glad you were to see Robb after less than two sennights. These direwolves are siblings. They have not seen each other for more than five years. That should excuse their behaviour somewhat.” 

He touched Ghost and looked into his eyes. The wolf whined but turned toward his siblings. After a few barks in response to Ghost’s calm gesturing, the five wolves left sedately in the direction of the Godswood.

Lady Catelyn still looking somewhat disgruntled once more took a formal posture. “Follow me, my Lord.” She said stiffly. She made him release her arm and led the way to the Great Hall.

Still smiling from ear to ear at the prospect of sparring with Jon the next morning, the two youngest Stark siblings took Jon by the hand and led him to where everyone was gathering to partake of some refreshments.

 

***

 

A bit later, Jon, Robb, and Edric were talking quietly together when Sansa approached hesitantly.  
“Will you be staying long, my Lord?” She addressed Jon and avoided looking at Edric. 

Jon figured the two of them had not yet found a way to deal with their current predicament. He once more made the mental note to address this with Uncle Ned at the first opportunity. 

“I hope to spend a sennight here, my Lady. But I must warn you that there is a chance an urgent message may call me away earlier.”

“Then I hope for my siblings’ sake that no message containing such summons will arrive. Please, my Lord, call me Sansa. You call all my siblings by name.”

“I’ll be glad to do that, Sansa, but only if you address me as Jon.” Jon smiled at her wondering why they had never reached that stage in the past. But before he could find something else to say, Sansa spoke again.

“If you will excuse me, Jon?” Sansa made a slight bow and went over to her mother to help host the newly arrived party and to check that the servants had plenty of food and drinks for everyone. Edric looked after her a forlorn expression on his face.

Robb looked at Jon a question in his eyes. Jon shrugged his shoulders and proposed they all take a seat to discuss how to fill their next few days.

Benjen looked at the three young men and felt torn. He was Robb’s uncle as well as Jon’s and loved both boys dearly. But he couldn’t help feeling closer to Jon. Perhaps it was because the boy was fatherless and Robb still had both his parents. He couldn’t deny that from the first moments he had laid eyes on baby Aegon, that the boy had become the son he had never had. He always felt like missing a limb when events separated them. 

He would be devastated not to witness the first days of Jon’s reign, perhaps even the coronation ceremony if they held one. But he had a duty to Robb as well. His brother should have made better arrangements before he left. Robb was still too young to manage the entire North. Managing Winterfell would have been challenging enough but to become temporary Warden of the North at such a tender age without a proper support system was shear madness. 

Benjen would talk to Maester Luwin to find the most suitable candidates to put together some form of small council for Robb. It would also be a convenient way of curbing Lady Catelyn’s influence on the boy. Benjen had never been a great fan of his good sister. Her southern ambitions popped up when you least expected it and her strict adherence to the Seven Pointed Star did not endear her to him either. 

Well at least Rodrik Cassel had stayed behind and only his son Jory had accompanied Ned. That man was an excellent candidate. If Lord Manderly could spare a son who was well versed in trade matters then this Lord could help with the problems Cassel was less familiar with. The Manderlys were close to the Starks so it would not be strange to have them visit Winterfell for an extended period of time, even though Manderley’s sons were all at least ten years older than Robb. 

He looked back at the table to see Arya and Rickon had joined the three men while Sansa stayed close to her mother. His eldest niece had not been herself lately. Perhaps a talk with Sansa was in order as well. Then he could write to his brother about her predicament. He’d better make good use of his time at Winterfell. The better he managed things here, the sooner he could leave.

 

***

 

Loras and Lady Brienne were helping the stable boys with the horses when Willas approached Loras. The brothers greeted each other with a warm embrace. ‘I am glad you are back safe and sound so I am not obliged to inform mother of your latest folly.” Willas was the first one to speak.

“I am sure Robb is happy to be safely home. He would have done the same for me.” Loras retorted not liking the reference to his rescue mission as a folly.

“However did you manage it though? Lady Catelyn lamented a siege to the Dreadfort could last moons and Robb would surely have no skin left by the time you were able to save him. Imagine my surprise that a raven arrived heralding your success. You must have rescued him two or three days after your arrival?”

“Two days to be exactly. I am sorry brother. I cannot tell you the details until you agree to swear your vow, remember? Perhaps you should rethink your decision. Mother would be pleased with such a powerful ally that can conquer a mighty stronghold in one day.” Loras winked at Brienne who tried to keep her face blank.

“For the love of the Seven Gods!” Willas exclaimed. “What is it with you and secret alliances in the North. It is high time we returned to Highgarden. I am all set to leave as soon as you are packed and have said your goodbyes. Let’s say the day after next? That should give you ample time.” 

“I am afraid it is you then that I will be saying my goodbyes to. I am staying, Willas. I am going to be the one who can take all the credit when our house is still deemed worthy to join the right side.” Loras for once was dead serious and didn’t waver under his brother’s scrutiny.

Willas was the one to look startled at his brother. He had never expected such an outright refusal. There was no room to negotiate by the looks of his brother’s determined face and convincing words. For the first time since arriving at Winterfell, Willas’ conviction started waver. Perhaps he was wrong about refusing to consider his brother’s words. It would be the first time though that Loras’ impetuous decisions yielded a better result than all his older brother’s careful deliberations.

“Whatever will you do here in the North? You will outstay your welcome.” Willas made a feeble attempt to convince his brother to reconsider.

“I am not planning to stay at Winterfell. I am considering swearing my sword to Lord Celtigar. Lady Brienne has already entered his services.”

“Was that the Lord that Lady Catelyn thanked first and foremost? He seemed awfully young. I wager he might be of an age with Robb. Why swear his sword to him? Celtigar? I am sure I have heard his name mentioned somewhere.”

“His name isn’t important.” Lady Brienne bristled. “It is who he is and what he stands for.”

“I gather he is the one that saved Robb then?” Willas was trying to make sense of it all. He had just recalled where he had heard the name Celtigar before. Arya Stark had once named him as the friend that had gifted her that beautiful sword and Rickon’s book. He was almost sure it was the name of a small house in the Crownlands or the Riverlands. He would have to look it up again. Perhaps it was a rich house then?

“He played his part, as did the others. If you were present in the courtyard, you must have heard him proclaim it was a joint effort. Willas, do me a favour and be nice to him. He is a good friend to have and that is all I am going to say on the subject. I can only tell you more if you are prepared to swear an unconditional vow to keep all you hear and see a secret until further notice.” 

Willas’ lips had formed a thin line during his brother’s last attempt to persuade him. Realising his brother would not give in, he sighed.

“Let me sleep on it, Loras. Just know, whether you are coming are not, I am leaving. I am out of excuses. Grandmother needs me in Highgarden now that father is back in the capital.” 

Willas bowed to Lady Brienne who had been a silent witness to their conversation and went back inside. Perhaps a visit to the library was in order. He needed to learn more about house Celtigar and find out if they shared blood with House Stark. That young lord had the Stark look, perhaps even more so than the Stark heir. 

 

**Interlude26: Preparations**

 

“Why did we have to draw the short straw?” Lorimas Mudd muttered for the umpteenth time.

“It is not such a bad job.” Rolly Duckfield answered his Serjeant. “We will face no grave danger. We have plenty of food and have camped in worse environments than these.

“But not amongst godsforsaken Ironborn.” His superior answered. “I hate fucking Ironborns. And if there is one thing that I hate even more than that, these two are oathbreakers. I know we are sellswords but we have our own code of honour. When we take a contract we honour it.”

“And are prepared to face certain death if that is what it takes.” The young apprentice chimed in. “You are repeating yourself.”

“It is the most important lesson you need to learn. No, need to live or you will never rise in our ranks, Duckfield. I hope those two do not hurry back.”

They were seated around a campfire and were keeping watch. After a sennight on this small island observing the clumsy preparations of the Ironborn, he had volunteered for watch duty out of sheer boredom. Little did he know when he signed up that he would be partnered with two Krakens. Yara Greyjoy apparently didn’t trust her new allies. He once more cursed the fact that he had drawn the short straw.

When Strickland, the current captain-general of the Golden Company had explained their new assignment and had asked for volunteers, nobody except a few younger men had signed up but not a single Serjeant had been amongst them. Strickland had called ten Serjeants and had let fate decide. And fate had had it in for him. Strickland had told him it would be a short assignment. The battle would only last half a day at the most and they would not need to engage themselves, just be present and visible. Their task was to make sure everyone knew the victory was due to the Golden Company and its dragons. 

At first everyone had thought it had been a joke but Strickland had explained that he was dead serious. He had forged an alliance with the dragonrider. It was due to this alliance that he had been able to raise their earnings. He had used the argument that he had heard nobody complain when they all had benefited when he had been able to raise their share substantially a few moons ago. This assignment was to lend credit to the rumours that they indeed had a dragon amongst their ranks.

So that is how he and ten other recruits had been shipped off to this tiny island Blacktyde. They had brought several sails, banners and armour with them. They would join the attack and the kraken ships on the front lines would carry the banners of the Golden Company along with some strategically placed Ironborn soldiers that would wear their golden coloured armour for all to see. 

When Lorimas Mudd had asked why Strickland didn’t send a real delegation, his capitain-general had told him bluntly that they were not getting paid for this job. It was actually the dragonrider that was doing them a favour by allowing them to set the stage so the Golden Company could take credit for a battle the dragonrider and allied Ironborn rebels would wage. He would not send a full delegation for an undefined amount of time without getting a decent fee. Lorimas had cursed his bad luck grasping that it would be a job without extra bonuses or other advantages. And on top of that he would have to mingle with Ironborn for an unknown number of days. 

“Why did they break their oaths to their King, Euron Greyjoy, Serjeant Mudd?” His apprentice asked.

“I haven’t taken the trouble to ask.” Mudd replied gruffly. “Damn, I think they are coming back.”

Now Rolly also discerned rustling in the bushes and soon enough he could hear one of the Ironborn talk to the other.

“Found several tasty rabbits. We can roast them and you can join in”. The elder of the two Ironborn announced when they came into view

“Thanks,” Rolly answered with a smile.

“We’re good. Thanks anyway.” His superior overruled him.

The elder Kraken just shrugged his shoulders and both men joined them at the fire and started stripping the rabbits. 

“Have you been stationed long on this Island.” Rolly asked the older man. He hesitated to address the younger one since he hadn’t heard him speak once, not even when they had been introduced. The man had only offered a nod and a toothless smile.

“Less than a moon, ever since we joined ranks with Yara Greyjoy.” The man replied.

“Why did you join her ranks? Weren’t you sworn to her uncle, Euron Greyjoy?” Rolly wanted to know.

The older man looked uneasy. “More like we were forced to follow him when he murdered Balon Greyjoy. That was Yara Greyjoy’s father.” He face had darkened.

“Not willing to fight for a girl. I can understand that.” Mudd joined the conversation. “What I can’t understand is switching allegiances once more.” He looked pertinently at the younger of the two Krakens.

Both Ironborn exchanged glances. “Have you ever spoken up against your commanding officer?” Once more it was the elder of the two who led the conversation. 

“We are trained to obey commands.” Rolly offered as reply.

“I do not mean question a command. I meant offer advice, or make a remark about the weather, the state of the crew, signal a problem with the equipment.”

“Of course, we have. What kind of question is that?” Mudd was losing his patience.

“Well it is an important lesson for anyone who wants to enter Euron Greyjoy’s services but we had no forewarning. See Harren here,” he pointed at the younger man who gave them a close mouthed smile.

“He had his tongue removed when he reported two men had fallen ill below deck and could not perform their duties. And because Euron Greyjoy was in a particularly bad mood that day, he not only cut out his tongue, he had Harren’s teeth pulled out one by one.” 

Rolly watched with big eyes as Harren opened his mouth only to close it moments later.

“Euron Greyjoy’s lead ship has a crew entirely composed of mutes. Can you imagine eating without a tongue? You can’t taste anything nor prevent the food from falling into your stomach when you still want to chew it some more. Harren here, he can’t even chew.”

“I’m sorry.” Rolly offered his sincere apologies. “We didn’t know. Yara Greyjoy is different I hope?”

“She is. She is one lady with balls, if you will take my word for it. Besides, why would I not want to side with her when she has befriended the dragonrider. I was on one of those ships that his dragons set on fire at the Stony Shore. The only reason I survived was because he had the decency to leave some of our ships intact to allow me and some other lucky comrades to be picked up by one of the remaining vessels. I still wonder why he showed mercy. He could have sunk each and every last ship in a matter of moments.”

“Perhaps he wanted word to get out so he would be feared throughout Westeros.” Mudd offered.

“No, here you are wrong. The first thing Yara Greyjoy ordered all of the men that had witnessed the attack and joined her ranks to do, is keep silent and not tell stories of the dragonrider. Only if we can’t deny it and need to tell something, we are ordered to tone it down and attribute the attack to one single small dragon and a rider that belongs to the Golden Company. We must emphasise that the dragonrider fights predominantly in Essos. They do not want the capital to know about the dragonrider being a Westerosi.”

“How curious. Why do you think that is?” Mudd was getting fascinated and forgot his reluctance to bond with the two men.

“The only reason I see is that he wants to take Westeros by surprise. I am glad we are on his side though. Pyke will surrender before you can count to one hundred and Yara Greyjoy will rule the Iron Island and has promised us a better life than under her father or her uncle. So call me,” he looked at Harren, “call us oathbreakers. We do not care. We are survivors. We are the smart ones.” His defiant look was not needed however.

Mudd nodded his head and readjusted some of his prejudices. “Any idea when the dragonrider will deign to show himself?” 

“Yara Greyjoy has summoned a meeting for later this morning. We can join it as soon as our watch is over. The entire encampment is excited. It won’t be long now. She is sure to set the date for the attack.”

The rest of their watch was spent in an almost congenial atmosphere. Mudd had even let Rolly taste some of the rabbit.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon enjoys the rest of his time at Winterfell and then flies to Eastwatch where Gendry is working non-stop. The interlude takes us to Dorne.


	27. All in the family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon talks with Benjen and reveals his identity to Arya. All the while Robb struggles with his situation.  
> In the interlude Prince Quentyn finally arrives home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t post a chapter in good faith without thanking my beta Ravenousreadr for her ever present dedication to this story. Thanks my dear friend!

*

Benjen was one of the first to retire that night. Maester Luwin had seen to his wound and said the cut was healing nicely, no more sign of infection. 

“Another few days of watching your movements and the the skin will be sealed tight enough for normal activities, as long as these do not entail fighting or training, my Lord.” The Maester had warned him. “Leave that to the young men for now.”

“How is Robb’s arm, Maester? Will he be able to resume his sword trainings soon?”

“I redressed the bandages on his arm and I needed to re-break and set both joints of the index finger on his left hand. It will be several sennights before he will be allowed to move that finger.” The Maester had sighed. 

“The poor lad will carry the scars for the rest of his life. He was lucky though. He told me the Maester at the Dreadfort had been allowed to care for his wounds. I have seen victims of the vile Bolton’s before. Their wounds had been allowed to fester and they lost either one or more limbs or their lives.” Maester Luwin had fallen silent and had seemed lost in contemplation of past terrors he had witnessed.

“Fighting though Maester,” Benjen had reminded the man, “will his movement stay impaired or will his arm heal properly?”

“I am sorry.” Maester Luwin had snapped out of his musings. “Our young Lord will regain full function of his left arm. He fights right handed in any case. The missing part of his little finger will not hinder him much, neither with fighting nor while conducting other activities. He has been lucky indeed. I will just need to refresh his bandages and urge him to accept some milk of the poppy to rest better at night. Lord Robb looked worn out.”

“Perhaps it is not the pain in his arm that causes him to lie awake, Maester. It is possible he might need help to come to terms with his anxiety and terrors that plague him mostly at night.” Benjen hadn’t mentioned how little noises or unexpected movements had scared Robb on the road. 

“Did you learn something about this that could be useful during your time at the Citadel?”

“We studied up on theories and methods to help relax one’s mind and body. I’ll look into it and see what I can do to help the young Lord.” The Maester had prepared to leave the room but Benjen had still wanted to put other things in motion.

“Thank you Maester. I have been thinking he might benefit from having a few helping hands now that he recovers. Perhaps Rodrik Cassel could attend both of you when you deal with the incoming scrolls and demands of the Lords of the North for now? We might also ask Lord Manderley’s second son to come for a visit. He could lend a hand if issues pop up that he is familiar with. I heard he is good with number and trade negotiations.”

“But my Lord, he has you and me to help him? Surely that will do?” The Maester had never heard of the Lord of Winterfell asking outside council. Eddard Stark always took a strong stance and mostly ignored other opinion being very sure of his own ability to govern the North.

“Might I remind you that you had been ill for several sennights just before I arrived, Maester? And I can’t promise to be here all the time. I have other duties to attend to as well. We must help our young Lord, even more so now that he is recovering. The North is the largest Kingdom of Westeros and has the harshest conditions. He carries a lot of responsibilities and is not well.” Benjen had used his most persuasive voice.

“Of course, my Lord. I will write to Lord Manderly straightaway.” Maester Luwin had bowed and left the room. For the time being Benjen Stark was his superior after all.

Benjen had next checked in on Robb and had been glad to find him fast asleep an empty cup next to his bed. Robb had heeded the Maester’s words and had drunk his milk of the poppy. His left arm was lying above the covers and Benjen saw the bandages on his left hand had two pieces of wood sticking out of them. Benjen had closed the door softly and had decided to retire himself.

 

***

 

Sitting on his own bed now he wondered what Jon’s next move was going to be. It had been hard to speak in private these last few days on the road. Perhaps tomorrow they might find a moment to discuss things without being disturbed. A soft knock on his door made him look up. 

“Come in.” He called out, no clue as to who would still disturb him in his own quarters.

“Uncle?” It was Jon’s hesitant voice and his dark curly hair that peeked through the small opening that made Benjen smile.

“Jon, come in. I think you are the only one I would still allow to enter my room in this state of undress.”

Jon walked inside and looked his uncle over. He was wearing a rather long nightshirt that covered him up entirely. “You are decent enough, Uncle. I’ve seen men with much less …,” he stopped. “Never mind. Do not worry on my account is all I am trying to say. Just get into bed and cover yourself if you are not warm enough. I only came to see if you might be inclined to talk to me for a bit?”

“I’ll always make time for you if you need me, Jon. Did you receive any messages that trouble you?”

Maester Luwin had indeed informed Jon that several messages marked for his eyes only had arrived and he had brought them to his room as soon as the young Prince had left the Great Hall. 

“Nothing we cannot discuss tomorrow. Perhaps you are willing to go over them with me tomorrow afternoon? I could use your council.”

“My, my, I am in high demand these days.” He stopped teasing when he noticed Jon stayed serious. “Of course I will make time for my favourite nephew tomorrow.”

“And tonight.” He added seeing Jon’s slightly disappointed look.

“Do you mind if I pull this chair closer to your bed? That way you can make yourself comfortable on your bed and we can still talk.” Jon looked eager now.

Benjen didn’t answer but carefully manoeuvred himself on the big bed until he was seated comfortably with his back against the headboard and the furs pulled up over his legs until they reached his waist.

“Now what is on your mind that you couldn’t tell me on the way home?” He asked wondering why Jon stayed silent after displaying his obvious need to talk mere moments ago.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Princess.” Jon revealed a bit hesitant.

“Finally ready to admit that you like her?” Uncle Benjen teased.

“Uncle, please. No teasing. Not from you, please.” 

“All right, no teasing. But seriously, you do like her don’t you?” His uncle was glad this was the topic for tonight and nothing more complicated.

“I do. That is the problem, Uncle. I want to marry her?” It felt good to say it out loud.

Benjen saw his nephew looking at him with apprehension. For once, Jon acted closer to his age instead of incorporating this leader amongst adults much older than him most of the time. “Is that a question?”

At Jon’s exasperated look he quickly added.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. I just meant that you know very well whether you want to marry her or not. You shouldn’t phrase it as a question. I do not see the problem. I recall you telling me your letters were very cordial. I couldn’t help but get the impression she liked you back. Ser Gerold also might have given me a hint in his last message.” 

“She loves me, Uncle.” Jon pulled his chair closer to the bed. “And I love her.” He whispered.

“And? Does that mean you are now willing to do what your great-great-uncle asked of you?” Benjen remembered how fervently a twelve namedays old boy had protested when his Targaryen uncle had brought up the subject not once but several times and again days before his death.

“I want to, very much. I’m afraid that I cannot think clearly and am acting selfish. I wonder if I am making a terrible mistake.” Jon confessed.

Benjen grabbed his hand, pulled it a bit closer and squeezed it gently. 

“Jon, you still have to make your first terrible mistake. You are doing great. You know when to decide things for yourself and you are not afraid to take a step back and to ask for advice. That is a thing you should teach Robb if you find the right opportunity by the way. Witnessing the way his father ruled Winterfell and the North these last few years has made him think it is a sign of weakness to ask for advice. Sorry, I needed to get that of my chest. Back to you though, walk me through your dilemma and I’ll try to help.”

He kept his nephew’s hand in his for support and felt Jon give him a light answering squeeze in acknowledgment.

“I am glad I can talk to you about this now, Uncle. I have missed our talks.” Jon adjusted his chair the last few inches he could still move closer to the bed.

“Has Davos not been able to … “

Jon shook his head.

“That’s right, he has not arrived at Dragonstone yet. He also hasn’t met the Princess yet. What is she like Jon? Describe her to me.” Benjen urged his nephew to give him more details.

“She is the very definition of a Targaryen.”

“In looks.” Jon added hastily. “She has silverwhite hair just like her father and the renowned purple eyes. She is small in stature and very slender although her figure is very feminine.” He blushed and looked at his uncle sheepishly.

“Go on.” Benjen encouraged him.

“She is nice, smart, funny but also headstrong and ambitious. She is not afraid to say what is on her mind.”

“Oh my, that tone you just used. Don’t tell me you butted heads already?” Benjen was watching Jon’s tiniest reactions looking for clues.

“We did, but we made up right after.” Jon’s face was scarlet now. “She came right out and asked me why I did not consider marrying her.”

“Now that is a lady I would like to meet.” Benjen Stark remarked amused to see his nephew’s troubles were just struggles of a young man in love for the first time. 

“I recall you not having any problems to fend of Nymeria Sand at the Wall. Perhaps the problem is you do not want to fend this one off eh?”

Jon released his hand and put it back in his own lap. “Uncle, please no teasing, this is serious. I told you, the fact that we both love each other makes it difficult for me to be sure I make the right decisions. I have already done some risky things. I need your unbiased opinion on this matter.”

“All right.” Benjen, who had been slowly sagging down the length of the bed, squirmed a bit until he sat up straight again. Sitting more comfortably once more, he studied Jon closely.

“Tell me all the reason why you think marrying her is a mistake. Hold nothing back. I promise I will listen and give my uncensored opinion.”

“I have three.” Jon looked at his hands that were fiddling nervously and stilled them.

“Three.” His uncle repeated encouragingly. When Jon didn’t continue, he added. “Let’s hear them.”

“I can’t marry for selfish reasons. What if I need to make a political marriage and refusing to do that will lead a Kingdom to declare war on me, us? I cannot be happy if I am the reason a rebellion starts.”

“You are not your parents, Jon. I have noticed more than once that you burden yourself with the unfortunate unforeseen consequences of their choices. You are not responsible for their actions. Besides, there are Seven Kingdoms and you can only marry one person.” 

“But what if Robb or Sansa are made to marry someone to advance my cause and I am not willing to do the same?”

“So far nobody has been forced to do anything against their will yet. Your campaign is coming along nicely without betrothals. Loras came to me and asked me a lot of questions. I am sure he will swear his sword to you in the near future. That is another reason for Lady Olenna to consider declaring for our side. I do not think the Stormlands will be swayed even if you married the Princess Shireen. King Robert and Prince Stannis are the ones that will oppose your claim the strongest. The Stormlands and part of the Crownlands might rebel no matter whom you decide to marry, Jon.” Benjen reasoned. 

Jon didn’t reply immediately. He avoided his uncle’s gaze by studying the calluses on his hands. 

“Jon, look at me. Tell me truthfully. Do you really expect that you will take the throne with no opposition whatsoever? No matter the yearlong preparations and the number of allies, there will always be people who will oppose your claim. Even if you marry a Lord Paramount’s daughter, not all bannermen might agree.”

Jon’s eyes briefly met his uncle’s.

“Jon, if you want to become King of all of Westeros, you must be prepared to enforce your claim with violence. I know you dream of a better world for everyone, but often the people have a mind of their own. Not all of them will like you Jon. Not everybody will think you and you dragons are the Gods gift to the realm.”

Jon frowned and lifted his head again. Benjen seeing he had his full attention knew it was time to give him some hard truths.

“Jon, I saw how you struggled with Jeor Mormont’s dislike of you. You will need to come to terms with the fact that even when all goes according to plan, best case scenario: sixty per cent of the people will love you, perhaps twenty will not give a damn or fear you without acting on it and the rest, the rest will hate your guts and might rebel against you. You have lived mainly amongst Targaryen loyalists. They are prejudiced in your favour and not a good standard to gauge the reactions of the rest of the realm by. You won’t win everyone over with a smile, a motivational speech, or even a daring rescue mission.”

Jon swallowed. “I know that, Uncle. Rationally I know all that. I struggle with it though. But that doesn’t negate the fact that marrying someone else might gain me extra support and less people will need to die.”

“Jon, nobody knows the future. Just suppose I am the Lord of the Stormlands and I declare war on you. You would need to take to the field with only a small part of your allies. Your two dragons would only have to give a small demonstration of their firepower. And I would waver and ask to negotiate. Think Jon. You are Aegon the Conqueror the second edition. I would bend the knee to spare my people.”

Jon frowned. “Perhaps.”

“This political betrothal issue might resolve itself. You will have to make your move soon now almost the entire North knows your identity. No matter how many times you ask for discretion, people talk amongst themselves and others overhear. Lord Varys is not a miracle worker. You might find yourself running for the throne before you have a chance to seal a betrothal. Nothing can prevent you then from asking your Princess to marry you. If she loves you back, just ask her to wait a few moons.”

Jon nodded slowly, deep in thought. Uncle Benjen waited a few moments but then cleared his throat to get his nephew’s attention once more. He had been slipping down again but instead of righting himself back into a sitting position, he slowly turned to his side until he lay on the bed facing Jon.

“Now let us move on to the other two reasons. I will want to go to sleep at some point tonight. I think there is one I can guess, your kinship with the Princess.”

“You wouldn’t mind me marrying my Aunt?” Jon asked amazed at the matter of fact tone with which his uncle had voiced this important concern.

“It is not as if she is your sister, or Gods forbid your twin sister. Aunt, uncle, nephew, niece, or cousins marrying happens in every House, Jon. I could cite you at least two examples of members of House Stark having done such a thing.”

“You do not think that it is a serious issue, Uncle? More so for my house? Considering the history of House Targaryen, I could have children who inherit the madness. Do not forget the dragons. In the wrong hands, they could destroy the realm.” Jon’s expression betrayed how much the issue weighed on him.

“Who is to say your offspring by a non-Valyrian woman will be able to handle the dragons with their diluted dragonblood? And even if they can, there is no guarantee that they will use the dragons with as much restraint as you do. Their hands could be _‘wrong hands’_ as well.” Benjen replied in a soothing voice. 

“Perhaps unconsciously you are still not willing to give into the demands of your uncle Aemon. You are talking of wanting to marry to further your cause, for the good of the realm. If Maester Aemon was right, marrying her might be for the good of the realm. You still cling stubbornly to ideas and decisions you formed as a young child and that somehow got stuck in your mind. Or perhaps you just do not want anyone to think you are marrying her because you were ordered to do so by your great-great-uncle. Ever think you protest this too much?”

“You are not helping me at all here, Uncle. Now I don’t even know what drives me anymore. I thought I was being noble and selfless, and now you question that as well.” Jon shook his head. His uncle saw the confusion in his eyes when Jon lifted his head once more.

“I wished I could see the future. I even tried but I,” Jon stopped and bowed his head in defeat.  
“I am sorry, Uncle. I can’t tell you more.”

“Let me guess, one of your Uncle Aemon’s precious Targaryen secrets. Think carefully, Jon. I know you are smart. Is there not something you can tell about what you just hinted at without betraying your house’s secrets?” Benjen silently cursed the fact that Jon was not allowed to confide everything in him.

Jon peeked through his eyelashes, giving Benjen hope the youth was considering his words.

“If you promise not to ask for details I cannot reveal, I will try Uncle.” Jon now looked at him having come to some decision.

“You know you can trust me, Jon. What more can I say to put your mind at ease?” Benjen further encouraged Jon to confide in him with an earnest look.

“It would help me so much if I could talk to you about this, Uncle.” Jon’s eyes glistened suspiciously and he put his right hand tentatively on the bed. 

Benjen didn’t hesitate to take it in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Then talk to me. I vow I will not press you for information that you are not allowed or unwilling to give.” He watched patiently while Jon mulled his words over in his mind and was hopeful when his nephew started to speak.

“I did something stupid the other day right before I left Dragonstone.” Jon admitted eventually. “I put my life in danger because I wanted to see the future, because I wanted to know the future of my house. More specifically I wanted assurances that my offspring would be able to control the dragons and if so, who I needed to marry to sire those children with.” Jon’s voice was barely more than a whisper. 

He bowed his head in shame. “I was sick when your cry for help arrived, Uncle. I had to delay my journey for more than half a day. That was all on me. I put my love for Dany before the wellbeing of everyone else. I know I must stay alive to help the realm, to fulfil the prophecy. I bear so much responsibility. I cannot make that mistake again.”

Two tears escaped and ran over his cheeks but Jon ignored them. “I feel so guilty, Uncle.” He paused and took a deep breath to calm down a bit. “And it was all for nothing. All the effort I had to make, and the risk I needed to take and I am no further than I was before.”

“It didn’t work then whatever you uh, did?” Benjen was doing his utmost to stay patient. Jon was not giving him much to go on, not enough to figure out what he wanted to know.

“It did work. Only not the way I thought it would. It gave me some ideas on how to save my house and the realm. I know more about the enemy to the north. The visions showed me what is important and apparently to the Gods or whatever magic that granted them to me, it is not whom I marry. But that is important to me, Uncle. Although,” 

He sat up straighter and his voice became more resolute when he declared. “I know I have a duty and I must not be selfish. I will not do as my parents did. I will fulfil my purpose first.”

“Jon, listen to me. Jon,” he repeated. 

Jon looked up reluctantly revealing he was still close to tears. 

“It is not selfish to want happiness. It is human. Must I repeat myself? You are not your parents. You are not to blame for everything that happened seventeen years ago.” He squeezed Jon’s hand once more.

“Jon, think about it again. As far as I can see, nothing you told me forbids you to marry your Princess. Although I must admit that it might be prudent to wait until you ascend your throne and assess the political landscape first, before going through with it.” He stroked his nephew’s hand to comfort him.

“You might be overthinking this, Jon. Do not forget that you have our noble, strong Stark blood. I trust the Gods to know what they are doing. You are healthy and Maester Aemon told me that your Stark blood allowed only the best abilities of your Targaryen blood to manifest themselves. He went even as far as to claim that our excellent Stark blood enhanced the abilities and you are a more powerful than any Targaryen ancestor ever was. Why could you not pass along that gift to your children?” 

“But Daenerys’ father and her brother even,” Jon hesitated to finish his sentence and put his fears into words. 

“I think her brother would not have succumbed to his illness had the circumstances been better. The Mad King well, you have me there. But you are good and honourable Jon. Trust in yourself, in your blood, your strength. If you have children, no matter whom you marry, raise them well and teach them justice, kindness, honour. Teach them by example. Let the Gods worry about the rest. I can truthfully say that I am convinced that you have as much chance to have a healthy offspring with her as with anyone else.”

“You really think that?” Jon’s wet, grey Stark eyes met his uncle’s dark blue ones, hope shining through them.

“I do. Every man takes a risk when he sires a child, Jon. Every parent worries about his child’s health and happiness. It is one of the facts of life. I understand the Gods didn’t bother to show you what you wanted. No marriage comes with a guarantee of a healthy offspring. It is too small a concern for the Gods.”

He revised his earlier assessment of an easy conversation about a young man’s first love. At least his nephew had calmed down some. He tried to keep his tone light when he spoke next.

“Your reactions have almost made me too scared to ask what possible third dilemma you have come up with.” 

Jon shook his head and a small self-deprecating smile ghosted over his face. “Now that I think about it, it is not really a big issue. It is merely another reason to delay our betrothal. I am convinced that I need all my energy and focus on the tasks at hand and can’t let myself be distracted by my feelings for her. By postponing a final decision till after the fight with the dead and when I have claimed the throne, this reason is no longer a concern.” He waited for his uncle to react.

“Stalling might get you in trouble with Lady Olenna though. If she tries to bully you into marrying a Tyrell, you should claim that you are betrothed to Princess Daenerys and keep all your options open. A fake betrothal can easily be broken.” When Jon shook his head his uncle stammered. “Unless, Jon, you didn’t, you haven’t.”

Jon shook his head resolutely. “No Uncle. I haven’t done anything that would lessen Dany’s chances of finding a suitable husband. Not in that way. I have given her hope though. I have promised her to try and stay single until matters are resolved. But I can’t use her like that, involve her in such deceit.” Jon’s face however had lost that forlorn look to his uncle’s relief.

“You can if you have her consent.”

Jon nodded now and seemed deep in thought. This gave Benjen the opportunity to mull over what Jon hadn’t told him. What exactly had the visions revealed to him about the enemy to the North? The boy seemed convinced more than ever that it was his destiny to defeat the dead. Whatever had the Gods shown him? Moreover, what the hells had he done to himself to get visions. As far as he knew, Lord Reed didn’t need to risk his health to receive visions. This last thought made him speak up again

“I reckon you haven’t asked Lord Reed for help yet?”

Jon startled out of his own musings. “I haven’t. I wanted to ask something else of him though. He told me once the magic in the blood of the Kings of Winter not only gave our ancestors the ability to warg but every now and then a greenseer was born into the Stark family. He suspects Bran to have inherited that ability to a certain degree. But somehow I think, I wonder if I might have inherited a bit of it as well. Maester Aemon hinted at it telling me my Targaryen blood instead of diluting the Stark magic seemed to enhance it when I told him about my connection to my dragons.”

“What are you saying, Jon? Did you experience some sort of greendreams?” Benjen was intrigued.

“I might have? I am not sure. I had some dreams that felt like vision before I tried, uh, well you know, that thing I can’t tell you about. But I can’t help but wonder that with some tutelage of Lord Reed, just like he taught me those warging exercises, perhaps I could, uh, you know?” 

It was not like Jon to be so unsure, not to finish his sentences. Benjen squeezed his hand once more trying to get Jon to settle his nerves. 

“I understand Jon. You can write to him. Perhaps there will come a time that you can visit with him in person. But for now, you might consider writing to him. It is possible that a few hints can help you along.”

“You do not consider me selfish?” Jon asked yearning for some reassurance.

“Everyone is selfish to a certain degree, Jon. Hells, you should be a bit more selfish sometimes. It is not healthy to always sacrifice yourself for others. The best way to help others is when you are strong, healthy and sound of mind yourself. So indulging yourself once in a while to make you feel better, benefits the ones that need your help as well. You should look after yourself if you claim you have such a big destiny to fulfil.”

Jon’s eyes were moist when he gave his uncle a long devoted look. He swallowed.  
“Perhaps you should take a piece of your own advice, Uncle. Why haven’t you taken a wife yet? You would make the best father ever.”

“I already feel like a father, Jon.” He blinked a few times to keep his own eyes from filling with tears. 

“But to answer your question, if ever I happen to fall in love, I will marry the woman I love and will not mind whether she is highborn or lowborn. That’s the upside of being heir to nothing. I just had other things that were more important to me. And, no, before you say it, it was NOT a sacrifice. I did it because my heart was fully invested in it. It still is. Who knows perhaps when you are King, the women will flock to me when they see how important I am to that famous King.” 

He added that last bit in a light tone in an effort to hide the fact that his emotions were getting the better of him.

Jon left his chair and moved to sit on his knees before the bed. He lowered himself and carefully embraced his uncle. Benjen’s arms closed around his nephew and held him as tight as his wound allowed. “I love you, Uncle. More than I can ever say. I hope you will be able to live close to me soon. I hate how little we see of each other.”

“I do too, Jon. I do too. Do not worry. Things will change soon. I am working on it. As soon as Robb has enough advisers he is willing to trust, I shall sail south and you will not be able to rid yourself of me.”

“I’ll keep you to that.” Jon murmured in his uncle’s hair before softly disentangling them. “I am sorry I am such a sissy.” He dried his eyes and cheeks.”

“Even a man needs to express his feelings once in a while. That doesn’t turn you into a girl, Jon. Don’t let my older brother know I told you, but he cried in my arms when baby Robb’s fever broke when he fell seriously ill a few moons after he was born. Every man, no matter how strong needs to let go from time to time.”

“Even you, Uncle?” Jon teased him. 

Benjen was glad Jon smiled for the first time since he had entered the room, even though it was only a watery smile. “Best prepare yourself. If that happens, it will probably be you that will have to deal with the flood.” 

“Don’t worry, I will have learned from the best.” Jon’s smile grew a bit wider.

“On that note,” his uncle hesitated, “perhaps we should think about retiring. There is always tomorrow.”

“There is. You are right. I am grateful you have given me so much of your time tonight. I feel much better. I might not look like it,” Jon said as he got up from the bed. “But I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted of me. I think I will sleep well tonight.” 

Standing next to the bed he hesitated but then bowed down and kissed his uncle’s cheek.

“Sleep well, Uncle. I’ll see to it nobody disturbs you so you can wake up when your body has rested enough. See you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well Jon.” His uncle smiled and waited until his nephew had closed the door before he adjusted his position so he was all set to fall asleep. The boy was in love. Ser Davos and Ser Barristan had warned him but he never would have guessed it was so much more serious than a first infatuation. Jon was really in love. He would go to the Godswood tomorrow and pray that all would turn out well. If anyone deserved happiness, his dearest nephew certainly did.

 

***

 

Jon went back to his room. Not feeling like he would fall asleep anytime soon, he reviewed the messages he had received one more time. He had already sent a reply to Yara Greyjoy. That had been the most urgent one. All their correspondence of late had yielded the wanted result. The Golden Company had sent a few men and some banners, sails and armour to Yara Greyjoy who secretly occupied a small Island north east of Pyke now. They could outfit several ships with the sigil of the Golden Company and dress Ironborn up as its soldiers. They would be ready to attack Pyke soon when all her men had arrived. The only thing that had been left was for him to let her know when he could be there with his dragons and to set the exact date for the attack. 

Jon had set a date for two sennights from now. He would enjoy a week of rest at Winterfell. Then fly to Eastwatch to evaluate the situation there and check in on Gendry and Sandor Clegane. He was frustrated by the stalemate beyond the Wall and would need to make a decision soon. As things stood now, perhaps he should pursue the Iron Throne first? That would certainly make Varys’ life easier.

He decided to sleep on it first. He would go to the training yard first thing after breaking his fast and bring his young cousins along as promised. Afterwards he would tackle the other messages together with Uncle Benjen and perhaps let Arya meet his dragons.

 

***

 

Jon awoke very early the next morning. Even though he had not retired that early, having spent some time reviewing the messages that had arrived for him and answering the urgent one before going to sleep, he felt well-rested for the first time since his bout of illness. Seeing the sun was not fully up yet he hoped it was still early enough to pay Arya back for that morning at Sea Dragon Point. 

Since Ghost was nowhere to be found and was probably out hunting or playing with his siblings, he asked a guard for directions to his youngest cousin’s room. He left the bewildered man behind when he hurried to the corridor where the daughters of the Lord of Winterfell had their quarters. Making sure he had the right door he opened it slowly, making as little noise as possible and sneaked up to her bed. Satisfied that it was her dark hair he spotted on the pillow and not his elder cousin’s red locks, he carefully manoeuvred both hands under the covers and tickled her.

When she shrieked and sat up ready to jump out of bed he smiled and sang “Rise and shine, rise and shine, dearest cousin.”

Arya’s expression immediately changed. Instead of being angry and ready to retaliate, her face lit up with excitement and she hugged him within an inch of his life.

“Jon! Is it time for our sparring session already? Oh no, did I miss it?”

“Not yet, not yet,” he reassured her. “I just thought you might want to keep me company for breakfast. And I wanted to ask you to spare me some time this afternoon. There is someone, or rather two someones I would like to introduce you to. Can you make time for your poor adopted brother?”

“Always.” She promised against his ear, still hugging him.

“I’ll wait outside for you to get dressed and you can accompany me to the Great Hall then?” Jon gently freed himself from her embrace. 

“I’ll be ready in no time!” Arya jumped out of bed and went behind a screen where Jon guessed her clothes would be lying from the night before.

“Should we ask Sansa to come with us and join us for breakfast?” Jon asked as an afterthought.

“Nooooh,” Arya complained. “Besides, it takes her ages to make herself presentable. We would be starved if we waited for her. “I am much quicker. I’ll be out before you know it.”

“I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.” He promised and went outside feeling happy to be amongst family once again.

They encountered Rickon on their way to the Great Hall. They chose their seats so Jon could sit between the two of them. Since it was still early, not many people were present yet. The room filled slowly while they broke their fast. Robb appeared with the Maester at his side. Jon stood to greet him. Robb smiled back but gestured he would sit at a separate table to discuss some things with the Maester. Jon signalled back that he understood, sat down again and turned his attention back to Arya who had been talking non-stop during his silent dialogue with Robb.

Jon did not linger long at the table after that and accompanied his young cousins to the training yard. After they had all donned their protective gear he asked them to show him how good they had already become. 

Before Jon had uttered another word, Rickon went over to a training dummy in a corner that was about his own size and started to show the strikes he had already been taught.

Arya whispered in his ear. “Can I show you facing you instead of a dummy?” 

Jon nodded and asked her to wait her turn so he could give her brother his attention first. Her excited nod was answer enough.

“Very good, Rickon. You must have a great teacher to possess such a powerful swing already. You can rest a bit while Arya shows us what she learned. Then I will teach you both some new moves.”

Rickon his face red from exertion but happy with Jon’s praise sat down and watched Jon take on Arya.

Jon enjoyed interacting with them. It reminded him of his time at Greywater Watch with Robb. He easily countered Arya’s strokes but made sure not to discourage her. He paid attention to her technique so he could give her some useful tips. He did not let her get a stroke in however. That would make her overconfident. Ser Gerold had warned him often enough that to overestimate your skills was the worst mistake you could possibly make in a battle.

“Yield!” He yelled as he held his sword to her neck and made a show of breathing heavily as if he had bested a very difficult opponent.

“I yield.” Arya was breathing heavy for real but her eyes shone with fulfilment. “I like fighting you, Jon. Can we do that again?”

“As long as I am here, we will fight at least one bout each day.” He promised. “But only if you do not neglect your other lessons and provided your mother is okay with it.” He added hastily.

“Now, I have some pointers for both of you. Pay attention.” He provided to give them some useful tips first. They both had made the same errors Robb had during his first sparring sessions when he was eleven. He corrected their overswing and told them not to swing with all their force all of the time so they could spare their strength for when they went for a more important strike. When Rickon went back to practice on his dummy, he showed Arya some simple strike combinations.

When he finished he noticed Edric and Loras had arrived and were the middle of their warming up. Jon went over to them and asked if they were willing to face him. He looked around to see if there were other sparring partners in the vicinity. Spotting Lady Brienne hesitating in the corner he called her over.

“Lady Brienne, will you help me out here? I need a third opponent who can make it more difficult for me.”

“Are the two of us not enough of a challenge?” Edric asked a bit put out. “I know you are a good swordsman, but we take our trainings very seriously and have improved you know.”

“You’ll just have to prove me wrong then.” Jon smiled. “I propose two of you take me on and if I am able to make one of you yield Lady Brienne takes his place and we begin again. Until another one yields and so on. The session ends when one of you three can get me to yield.”

Loras looked at Edric. “Let’s show him was he has taken on.”

They both took their starting position facing Jon, the intent clear on their faces.

“Lady Brienne. Stand ready to replace my first victim.” Jon warned and took his stance as well, a training sword in each hand. 

“Make your first move.” He encouraged Loras Tyrell.

Loras advanced and tried a head cut, which Jon parried and in one fell swoop cut of the swing Edric launched at his abdomen. The sword in Jon’s left hand hit Edric under his arm. “Yield.”

Brienne stepped in feinted twice before striking toward his shoulder. Jon parried a strike from Loras moments before he blocked her sword. The moment Loras made a step forward Jon attacked him with a combination of strokes at a speed that had Loras of balance and he fell. Jon turned his attention on Brienne and only used his left hand to hold off Edric who had stepped up to replace Loras. Jon changed tactics now. Instead of meeting their swings he started evading them. He stepped left, backward, ducked and came up with a half turn to the right and attacked them sideways and had both of them yield moments apart.

His three opponents looked at each other and reaching a silent consensus, attacked simultaneously. Jon anticipating their movements, manoeuvred himself between a wagon and a wall so they could not attack from behind and held all three of them off successfully. Several Lords had gathered on the rampart and were watching the spectacle below with growing amazement. 

Jon was still holding his position and his opponents were showing the first signs of exhaustion. Jon was also sweating profusely but relied on the speed of his strokes and the precision of his swings now and hardly moved from the spot he had chosen.

It wasn’t until Edric climbed on the wagon that he needed to revise his tactics slightly. He threw one sword at Edric and yelled yield when the unexpected move startled his friend and the sword hit its intended target. One sword in his hand was enough for the moment to hold Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne at bay since they could only attack him from the front. He was slowly getting cornered and tried to use the more complicated stroke combinations. He realised he needed to find a way to end the fight before he was trapped against the wall. The very moments he hit Loras Tyrell straight on his chest plate and ordered him to yield, Lady Brienne got a hit in on his left arm. “Got you,” she yelled gleefully. 

Jon lowered his sword and bowed. “You did my Lady.” He smiled. 

“Thanks, that was a good challenge. I’ll take you on one by one later if you are still willing.” He addressed this to all three of them. Loras and Edric were breathing heavily and were glad Jon was giving them time to recover.

“Lady Brienne, will you assist me with the rest of my training? I recently started with additional exercises to develop my muscles. If you will join me for a run? He looked around for some heavy objects. His eyes fell on Rickon and Arya who of course had stopped their exercises long ago to witness Jon fighting off three opponents. 

Jon picked up Rickon and lifted him on his shoulders. “Arya your next, just wait here for me.” Jon with Brienne following close behind turned in the direction of the inner gate. He ran part of the path between the old and new Wall of Winterfell, only to double back when he reached the glass gardens. Back in the training yard, he put Rickon down, bent his knees and gestured Arya to climb on his back. She was a lot heavier than her brother but her shouts encouraged him to keep enough speed. This time they left the confines of Winterfell and ran around the Godswood. He stopped at a small fountain and drank some water. He was getting better even though he had not regained his full strength yet. 

He showed Arya some muscle building exercises but told her to take it easy while she was still growing. Lady Brienne looked on with amusement smiling at the antics of both cousins. At one point, Jon was laying on his front propped on his hands his arms. Arya sat on his back while Jon bent his arms lowering his head to the ground keeping a straight line from his shoulders to his feet. Arya tucked in her legs until Jon lifted himself up again by straightening his arms. Arya was keeping count. When she tried to mimic this exercise without additional weight on her back, she failed miserably.

“You are still young Arya,” he comforted her, not wanting to refer to her gender he added, “these muscles only develop in later years. Don’t overdo it. Within a few years you will be able to do this. I had to learn as well.” He showed her a variant, where she leaned on her knees instead of her feet.  
Soon Arya was been able to complete ten motions.

After that, they decided training was over and walked leisurely back to the courtyard. As always Arya was talking non-stop.

“I will get stronger than Robb if I practise all these new exercises in secret. I have never seen him do anything of the kind.” Her competitive spirit was once more apparent.

“Robb will not be able to train for some time. Do not pester him about it, Arya. He will feel useless enough as it is. Distract him with other things. Perhaps ask him to go for a run with you once he is feeling a bit better and his arm is no longer bandaged so heavily. Look out for him when I am gone, will you?”

Arya had promised him, a serious expression on her face. Jon knew he had struck the right tone. She would rise to the occasion, proud he had entrusted her with such an important mission.

When they re-entered the courtyard, Jon spotted the crowd that was still gathered there awaiting his return. He asked Brienne to accompany him to a more secluded spot for the rest of his muscle building exercises.

Later Robb would tell him how impressed the Lords of the North had been, not only with his prowess with a sword but also with the time and energy he had put in to teach his little cousins. Those who had witnessed the entire session from the ramparts had spread the word.

 

***

 

After a quick wash and properly attired, Jon went in search for Uncle Benjen.

When he knocked on Robb’s solar to see if his uncle was in there, Robb motioned him to enter.

“Why are you looking for our Uncle?” Robb asked his cousin. He was seated behind his father’s desk and was trying to deal with the newest demands from his bannermen.

“I wanted to discuss some things with him before I sent out some messages to my entourage and my allies.” Jon was quick to explain.

“You do not handle that yourself?” Robb asked him looking a bit taken aback.

Jon remembering his uncle’s words of the night before, took a seat. “Most of them I could handle by myself if I wanted to. I prefer hearing another opinion or several opinions first if at all possible.”

When Robb frowned, Jon elaborated. “It is how I have always made decisions, at least for as long as I can remember. Not only does it make me feel surer that I am making the right decision, it sometimes helps me look at a problem from another angle. Often there is more than one solution to an issue. Listening to others has taught me to look for these other possibilities and not to be satisfied with the first answer I come up with. Some solutions are better than others.”

“Doesn’t it make you look indecisive?” Robb asked surprised by this new insight in Jon’s habits. He had seen his friend in action several times and had witnessed firsthand how his cousin had taken command of powerful Lords much older than himself neither hesitating nor doubting himself.

“I do not think of it that way. You see, I listen to all their advice but it is still me who makes the final decision and they respect that. I still feel in control, Robb.” 

He hesitated, not knowing whether his cousin would understand but he tried all the same. 

“I must admit I like building solutions together. You see, someone starts with an idea. It can be me, or it can be someone else. It is only an idea, a start of a plan, something half finished. Sometimes something that is not feasible but it gives someone else another idea. Talking about it, we build on that. Each one adds knowledge from his own field of expertise and sometimes we construct an ideal solution nobody could have come up with on his own. Everybody knows different things, combining all this knowledge sometimes yields amazing results. The solutions that ensue from such deliberations are often the most rewarding ones.”

Jon studied his cousin hoping his words would have some impact. 

“I can’t imagine father would approve of me doing things that way. He always ruled the North keeping his own council. His word is law and nobody questions his decisions.” Robb eyed his cousin with skepticism now.

“Are you sure though, Robb? You mostly only saw the end result. You saw your father proclaim his decisions in the Great Hall. Did he never take time perhaps days to reach a difficult decision? Are you certain he didn’t confer with others in private? I am not talking about a small dispute between two nobles, I am sure he handled that himself, but what about when he needed to make major decisions? Do you really know how he came up with his solutions?”

“I thought I did.” Robb stammered after thinking it over for a while.

“You can always write him and ask his opinion. I assure you, I miss my advisers greatly and am glad I can ask the advice of our uncle. Have you not benefited from his help?”

“I have. But that is just because I am still getting the hang of things. I do not want to appear weak in the eyes of the other Lords. I already have my age against me.”

“Then every King would look weak because he governs not only with a Hand but with a small council as well. I disagree with respect, Robb. I am of the opinion that it is a wise man who seeks council and that only a fool thinks he has all the answers, knows all there is to know and does not need any aid in ruling a large kingdom or several for that matter.” Jon smiled apologetically hoping he didn’t come on too strong. 

“If you put it that way,” Robb hesitated, clearly not sure if he should be offended. “But the Lords.” He stopped what he had been about to say and started over. “Perhaps I will write to father about this.”

“Just think on it for a bit, Robb. That is all I ask. I can only give my advice and you decide what to do with it. That is my point after all.” A tentative smile lit Jon’s features. He gestured at the scrolls on the desk. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Not for the moment.” Robb declined in a tone that indicated he wanted to be left alone for now.

Jon not wanting to overstay his welcome rose from his chair. “When we both have settled our separate business, tomorrow perhaps, I would like to sit down, the three of us and talk about Theon’s fate and what to decide about House Bolton.”

“Are those not matters for the Warden of the North.” Robb countered on the defensive now.

“That is one of the things we can discuss then. I will argue that I need Theon alive to barter with Yara Greyjoy. And I might have some insights or call it ‘suggestions’ about the future of House Bolton. It can’t hurt to hear me out.” Jon tried to keep his tone noncommittal.

“Okay, if that is scheduled for tomorrow, what are your plans for the rest of today?” Robb asked still a bit tense.

“I was looking for Uncle Benjen, remember? I will talk with him and then decide on the most urgent actions to take. Afterwards I intend to take a stroll with Arya. I want to tell her who I am before she hears it from someone else. We will walk to the woods so I can introduce her to my dragons. 

“Why Arya first? Why not Mother, Sansa or Willas Tyrell for that matter? Did you know he has been trying to wheedle information out of almost every noble present?” Robb eyed his cousin with curiosity. 

“I wanted to single Arya out because she deserves it, kind of? Apart from you, she is the only one who made the effort to keep in touch and I trust her. She is loyal and old enough. Rickon is still too young. Bran knows from what I have gathered from the last letter I received from Lord Reed. Your mother knows as well.” Jon sighed. “To tell you the truth, I fear Arya’s resentment if she hears it from someone else which is bound to happen with so many people in the know.”

“I understand Jon. But the same goes for Lord Tyrell, I mean Willas Tyrell. Don’t you worry he will overhear something or will eventually find someone willing to answer his questions?”

“You are right. I’ll better seek him out before that happens. Although I am not sure how to handle that discussion I am afraid. You see, these are the sort of things I want to discuss with my advisers first. In such a situation we list all the pros and cons so I can devise a strategy. Strictly speaking there is no one hundred per cent right or wrong approach here. There is only a slightly better and a slightly worse option. It soothes my conscience that I at least tried my best to make the best decision possible when things do not turn out exactly how I wished them to.”

Before Robb could react someone knocked. The unexpected sound startled Robb more than Jon would have expected. His cousin’s sudden movement would have spilled the inkpot if Jon’s quick reflexes had not steadied the small receptacle. Jon acted as if he didn’t notice the panicked look Robb shot at the door.

“Am I disturbing some private moment? Shall I come back later?” Uncle Benjen stood in the doorway also not commenting on what he had just witnessed.

“Not at all. I think we were finished, isn’t that so Robb?” Jon kept his voice and face neutral.

Robb nodded and invited his uncle in.

Jon met him on his way to the door. “Hello Uncle, I had been looking for you earlier as a matter of fact. When you have finished here, will you come find me? There is a matter I need your advice on. I’ll keep myself busy in the library.”

When his uncle raised his eyebrow questioningly, Jon amended. “Well, perhaps more than one matter.” He smiled apologetically.

“I’ll be there soon Jon. I need a word with Robb first.” 

Jon nodded. “Then I will leave you two to it.” He went to the door and turned around. “I’ll see you later today, Robb? You do realise that if you were in better health, I would have you come along when I take that walk I told you about?”

“I know, Jon. Sorry if I was perhaps a bit short with you. Just give me some time. And I’ll make sure to see you later. I’m not going anywhere anyway.” Robb nodded his head.

Jon responded with a nod at both Starks and left the room.

 

***

 

Jon entered the library and left the door open so his uncle would certainly spot him when he walked past. He halted when he saw Willas Tyrell was seated at a table with several large tomes open in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I did not want to disturb you. You are Lord Tyrell, I presume? I saw you last night in the Great Hall but I do not think we were formally introduced.” Jon opened the conversation not knowing whether this was a lucky coincidence or if he should have avoided the encounter altogether.

“Well met, Lord Celtigar. Your reputation precedes you.” Willas Tyrell had stood up and dipped his head fractionally.

“My reputation?” Jon wondered how outspoken the grandson of Lady Olenna would be.

“Well your cousin Arya, Lady Brienne, and of course my brother have told me bits and pieces. If I am honest, I am a bit intrigued.” Willas answered without hesitation, relishing the opportunity to talk to the elusive Lord.

“What intrigues you the most, my friendship with House Stark or the fact that you have not found anything significant about House Celtigar in any of those books?” Jon was starting to enjoy baiting Willas Tyrell.

“You caught me there. To be honest, I was looking through these books for mention of a marriage between House Stark and House Celtigar. You certainly look a lot like a Stark, if you don’t mind my saying.” Willas Tyrell openly studied the grey Stark eyes and the dark curls from up close. With the well-groomed beard, the young lord resembled Lord Eddard Stark even more.

“I don’t mind. I consider it a compliment to be compared to such a noble house.” Jon replied keeping his face neutral.

“I can’t help but suspect that my brother’s secretive behaviour has some connection to you. He came back from the Riverlands with secrets and I surmised that that is where he met you.” The elder Tyrell brother tried once more to get Jon to talk.

“I won’t lie. It is connected to me.” Jon offered just enough information to keep the heir to Highgarden interested.

“And you are not willing to tell me more about that?” Willas Tyrell decided to stop playing games and put the young Lord on the spot.

“I am willing if you are prepared to bear the consequences.” Jon needed all his experience to keep his face blank and not give him a teasing smile.

“I am sorry. Would you care to elaborate? I can’t help but get the feeling that I am being threatened somehow?” Willas Tyrell was getting uneasy. Lord Celtigar stood between him and the only exit to the library. The man had a beautiful sword made of Valyrian steel and knew how to use it. That much the servants had been willing to tell him.

“I would like to call it a fair warning instead of a threat. I just want you to understand that I am prepared to tell you all you are dying to know but it comes with a condition. If you are not willing to take a vow to keep it a secret for as long as needed, you will not be allowed to leave the North for the time being and all your outgoing messages will be checked.” Jon kept his tone friendly. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the heir to Highgarden.

“You can enforce that? You really mean to say that House Stark will let you confine me here as a virtually hostage? I have been given guest rights. You cannot be serious.” 

Both men were staring each other down. Jon didn’t budge.

“I am deadly serious. Not a single hair on your head will be harmed but you will remain House Stark’s guest for a while longer. Now do you still want to know who I really am and how I am connected to House Stark?” Jon kept his face impassive as he intimidated Willas Tyrell.

“Jon? Here you are. I thought I heard your voice. Excuse me for the interruption, Lord Tyrell. I need to speak to my uh to Lord Celtigar.” Benjen Stark looked at both men who seemed ready to declare war on each other.

Jon relaxed his shoulders. “Think about it Lord Tyrell. Just come find me when you want more information.” 

Without waiting for Willas’ response, Jon turned toward his uncle. “I am free now. Let’s adjourn to my room.”

 

***

 

“What was that all about?” Uncle Benjen asked him the moment they were out of earshot of the library. “Isn’t he about to leave anyway?”

“He is just curious, Uncle. He knows that Loras has a secret and has figured out it has to do with me. He was only trying to get me to tell him.”

“Tell me you didn’t threaten him?” Benjen Stark had felt the tension between the two young men when he had inadvertently interrupted them. 

“I didn’t threaten him.” Jon reassured his uncle immediately. “I just issued a friendly warning. I told him that if he really wanted to know who I was and he was not willing to take a vow to keep the secret afterwards, he would not be allowed to leave Winterfell for the time being and would not be free to send messages without having their content screened. I didn’t raise my voice and kept my tone friendly. Anyway, don’t feel sorry for him. Feel sorry for me. He started it when he asked his questions directly to my face.”

“He will pick it up in the hallways soon enough. The entire keep is talking about you.” His uncle warned him.

“Well, it appears he hasn’t so far. Perhaps ‘the entire keep’ knows when to keep silent? I bet he will come find me soon enough. I saw his resolve weaken and might have folded in there had you not interrupted us.”

“You asked me to come find you and I did. And for the record, I am not feeling sorry for anyone.”

They entered Jon’s room and sat down at the small table. “Well, here I am. Let us get this over with.” 

“Can I offer you a drink before we start, Uncle. “

“Robb did the honours, I am fine.”

Jon poured himself a cup of water and drank greedily.

“I must thank you for talking to Robb. Your preparations made it easy for me to get him to accept some changes.” His uncle remarked.

Jon looked surprised for a moment but then understood. “You asked him to appoint some advisers?”

“I got him to consider discussing his issues for the upkeep of Winterfell with Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel. And he is also considering inviting the second son of Lord Manderly for a visit upon his father’s agreement.” His uncle confirmed.

“He was more reluctant when I proposed to install a kind of small council to govern the North. I might have overdone it when I suggested making a habit of gathering the major bannermen perhaps twice a year to discuss their demands. Even though I argued that that would temper the demands of the Lords, knowing their requests would become common knowledge and that it would ingratiate them to House Stark when they get the impression that they have a bit of a say in the governing of the Kingdom they all live in, Robb resisted. In the end he agreed to write to his father about this idea.”

“I am surprised you got him to agree to hear the advice of Cassel adn Maester Luwin. He seemed a bit out of spirit and rather short tempered when I spoke to him. I even had the fleeting feeling he didn’t trust me at one point.”

“Jon,” his uncle sighed, “keep in mind the ordeal he went through. He suffered a great shock and no matter how strong a front he keeps up, on the inside he is still traumatised. We cannot begin to understand the things he suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow. It is a wonder he is so coherent.”

“I know. I saw the dark circles under his eyes. I am at a loss of how to deal with him. I do not want to treat him as if he is breakable, but then if I treat him as an equal and he can’t deal with it, he bites back.” He looked to his uncle for advice.

“The only thing we can do is be patient, try not to put too much pressure on him and distract him when we see his thoughts wander to dark places. That night at the Dreadfort, the three of you kept him company I heard. That was a splendid idea. You should orchestrate more of these encounters.”

“That was Edric’s idea.” Jon gave credit where it was due. “I will see to it we end the evening in Robb’s room tonight.”

“Okay, now that that is settled. What do you need my advice about?”

Jon proceeded to talk to him about the messages he had prepared to Ser Gerold and how he had tried to find the right tone to inform him of Sandor Clegane’s change of status and how Lady Brienne of Tarth had been appointed has his replacement. He told him about the timing he had agreed to for the attack on Pyke and that he was leaving for Eastwatch in less than a sennight.

“I was hoping things could be resolved beyond the Wall before I had to fly back South and that Edric and Brienne could leave for Eastwatch as well. But it seems I am in a bit of a bind. What do I do if the enemy keeps holed up in the far North?”

His uncle told him that if he was going to fly to Eastwatch anyway, he should not worry and make hypothetical decisions before knowing the exact situation. He could send a raven as soon as he decided to send for Lord Dayne and Lady Brienne.”

Still they went through several possible plans of actions before his uncle decided they had exhausted the subject. 

“Robb proposed we meet in his room tomorrow afternoon after the mid-day meal. He told me you asked to discuss Theon Greyjoy’s fate and the future of House Bolton.”

“Did he show you his displeasure as well? With me he acted rather offended when I wanted to have a say in Theon’s fate.” Jon complained and looked at his uncle for support.

His uncle looked startled. “Not at all. I had the impression he was all for it and that it was his idea to involve you in the decision. Do not take it to heart, Jon. Once more I must ask you to bear in mind that Robb is in physical pain as well as suffering from a mental trauma.”

“I am willing to do anything that might help him. I will do better, Uncle.” Jon promised.

“Before I leave, what is that I hear about you taking Arya to see the dragons? Have you not already earned her undying love?” His uncle’s tone was teasing.

Jon smiled and felt the tension leave him slowly as he told Uncle Benjen exactly why he would take his youngest cousin to see Rhaegal and Viserion.

 

***

 

Arya’s reaction had been rather predictable. She had not been offended in the least for being kept in the dark for so long. She was super proud he told her before he told Sansa and Rickon.

Jon had promised Arya to show her something in the woods but that he first needed to tell her a secret. He had persuaded her to share a horse so he could talk more privately with her on the way over there. Lady Brienne would follow them but would keep her distance. When Arya had asked him why Lady Brienne came along, Jon had explained he had promised to take the necessary precautions and she was there to act as a guard.

Sitting behind her on the horse, they set a leisurely pace. Jon held the reigns with one hand and had the other around her waist. 

“Jon, I am dying of curiosity here. The way you asked me I know it is a really nice surprise.”

“I think it is. One you’ll never guess.” He stalled on purpose to elicit a reaction.

“Jooooo’ooon,” she groaned taking his bait. “I already vowed I would keep your secret. Please, puh-leeze tell me now?”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?” He teased her some more.

“Anything you want. Just tell me.” She all but ordered him.

Leaning towards her he quietly started to tell her of their kinship. “What would you say if instead of your adopted brother, I was your kin by blood, that in fact I am your cousin?”

“Truly? “ She turned her head a bit so she could look at him. “How is that even possible? Uncle Benjen never married and Uncle Edmure hasn’t either.”

“Don’t you think we look alike somewhat?” He gave her a clue. “Same dark hair, same eyes, even our noses have some similarities. Who do they always say you resemble the most, Arya?”

“Aunt Lyanna?!?! But, but.” She stopped. She had adjusted her position again and he couldn’t see her expression.

“I am your aunt Lyanna’s son. See, she was never kidnapped. Who could kidnap the wild Wolf and live to tell the tale? You see, she fell in love and eloped. I am her son and your cousin.” He loosened his arm around her waist a bit, allowing her space so she could think things through.

“She married Lord Celtigar from the Driftmark? How come father never knew?” Arya finally asked him.

“He knew Arya. But it was all a big secret because I am not really Lord Celtigar. Your father knew that as well and he protected me. Uncle Benjen knew as well. Will you believe me if I tell you I am actually a Prince?”

He was sure that even with the distance Lady Brienne was keeping between them, she could still hear Arya’s exclamation.

“You’re a Prince!”

“Shhh Arya. Keep your voice down. It is supposed to be a secret for now, remember.” He could see the blush spreading on her right cheek.

“I am sorry, Jon. I promise, I won’t forget ever again.” She whispered. She turned her head a bit so she could look him in the eye. “Your father was a King or a Prince?” He waited sure it would come to her any moment now.

“Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!” She exclaimed but kept her voice down. “Did Aunt Lyanna really love him?”

“So I am told by three famous Kingsguard. I do not want to call the Sword of the Morning a liar, Arya.” He teased.

“No way?!”

“Oh now you call me a liar as well? Me, your very best friend in the realm.” Jon smiled at her. “Isn’t your neck hurting? Perhaps you should face forward again.”

“Let us dismount. I wanna hear everything and be able to look at you when you tell me. I expect it is quite a story. Tell it all, Jon. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

“We can stop for a bit by the banks of the river over there. But not too long, you hear. We need to get back to Winterfell by supper. I promised your mother you would have time to wash up and change before supper.” Jon helped her dismount.

Arya made quick work of finding the perfect spot and she all but ordered Jon to sit next to her and start spilling. Jon gave her a censured version of his life. When he finished they looked at each other an identical expression of contentment on both their faces. Arya didn’t stay silent for long.

“You are a Prince for real? And father is helping to make you King? You will be the best King in the entire realm!” She suddenly turned very still. Her voice wavered a bit when she asked. “Will you still be my friend?”

“Of course Arya.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You are one of my very best friends and that will not change. If you keep the secret for now you can boast later that you are a cousin of the King and that he is your very best friend to everyone who can hear you. You can also tell them that you knew before they did but that the King personally trusted you to keep his secret.” Seeing she still wasn’t entire reassured he added.

“Besides we are cousins. You can’t escape the acquaintance now. You will be invited for nameday parties, marriages, perhaps even the occasional tournament.”

Arya nodded vigorously totally on board now. She rearranged their positions so her back leaned against his chest. “Will you need to marry a Princess? Oh, is a cousin of a King a Princess as well?”

Jon didn’t reply immediately. The way she had nestled himself against him had already reminded him of his dragonride with Daenerys. Her question made the image even more vivid. He put his arms around her skinny body.

“Not necessarily.” He answered after a while. It was the exact same answer to both her questions but he didn’t point that out. He distracted her by telling her of his plans.

“But I intend to make you a Princess as soon as I am King. You see, I will proclaim that the North becomes a Principality just the same as Dorne. Your father and brothers will be Princes and your mother, you and Sansa will become Princesses of the North.”

“I don’t care about that. I am not sure I want to be a Princess. I will not marry and become some dull lady of a keep. I want to become a warrior.”

“If you still want that when you are old enough to decide that for yourself, I promise to talk to your parents.”

Arya turned her head around and showed him how happy that statement made her. She sing-songed her reaction but kept her voice down. “And you can’t say no to a King, you always have to respect and obey your King. Thanks Jon.”

“I won’t order them, Arya.” He warned her. “I only promise that come the time, I will do my utmost to persuade them. That is if you have not changed your mind by then. But let us not talk about the future. I am no King yet. Let’s talk about what I am about to show you in the woods. I am a Targaryen Prince and I have another secret. Can you guess what it is?”

“I already know you have a Valyrian sword.” Arya looked deep in thought. “Can’t you give me a hint? I like riddles.”

Jon whispered secretively in her ear. “I told you I was your cousin because I am the son of your Aunt Lyanna.” Arya nodded.

“That means I am half Stark and I have Ghost to prove it. Well, since Prince Rhaegar was aunt Lyanna’s husband and he sired me, I am half Targaryen and I have something to prove that as well.”

“No way! Jon, don’t tell me.” Arya stopped, too shocked to put her idea into words. She was scared he would say that she had it all wrong and that when he revealed what is actually was that he wanted to show her in the woods it would turn out to be something stupid or boring.

“Okay I won’t.” Jon teased. “So we won’t be visiting my dragons then. We better turn around and hurry back to Winterfell. Rhaegal and Viserion will be disappointed though. I promised them they would get to meet my favourite cousin today.”

The rest of her behaviour had indeed been predictable. Even though Jon had warned her several times not to approach both dragons before he told her it was okay, she had not been scared in the least. Rhaegal and Viserion had taken a short interest in her but had soon gone back to sleep when they couldn’t sense any dragonblood in this other kin of their human. Arya hadn’t minded. She had just sat there against a tree admiring them and she still would have been there if eventually, Jon had not dragged her back to their horse and taken her home to Winterfell. 

 

 

 

**Interlude 27: The prodigal son**

Two days ago it had been now since he had arrived home. Two days of waiting for his father to acknowledge his return and hear him out. Prince Quentyn was starting to think that these two days had been even more miserable that the entire time he had been kept imprisoned by pirates. 

He realised his father would be extremely disappointed or more accurately he would be furious. Ever since he had been set free he had done nothing but try to come up with some version of the truth that would not set his father off and get him severely punished or perhaps even disinherited. But all that time hadn’t helped him it seemed. When Areo Hotah brought him before the ruler of Dorne, words failed him when his father hurled his accusation at him.

“I am sorry father. I only did what you told me.” People thought Doran Martell was weak but Prince Quentyn was afraid of his father. _‘What did that make him?’_ He stiffened his posture, steeling himself for the next attack.

“I told you to marry the Princess by any means necessary. I did not ask you to be captured by pirates and come home with a whore you claim is your wedded wife and pregnant with your firstborn.” His father leaned forward in his plus chair, his eyes dark and angry. 

Prince Quentyn’s voice sounded hoarse and bitter when he defended himself. “I did what I had to in order to survive and come back to you father. They told me you declined to pay a ransom and that my only way out was marrying the daughter of the pirate captain and produce an heir that would inherit Dorne. They warned me they would come visit at regular intervals to be reassured about the health of my wife and heir. I had no choice.” 

“You always have a choice.” His father was quick to answer. He scoffed. “I reckon you enjoyed sticking your dick into a silverhaired girl. Was she a maiden? Did you close your eyes and pretended you were fucking Daenerys Targaryen?”

Prince Quentyn was speechless. His father taking advantage of having the upper hand continued his tirade.

“No pirate child will become heir of Dorne, not even if you were to become my successor if Gods forbid something happened to your sister. Don’t those dumb raiders know how the succession is regulated by Dornish law? I hope that at the very least you explained to them that Princess Arianne is your elder sister and the first in the line to succeed me.

“I didn’t, I uh,” Quentyn stammered.

“Let me be clear,” his father looked at him with contempt now. “I do not recognise your so-called marriage. Your whore is not welcome to live on Dornish soil unless she is willing to accept her status as a mere mistress and that the child will be a Sand and will not be entitled to a single thing. If you don’t have the stomach to tell her, by all means, send her to me. Now leave me. I do not want to lay eyes on you again before the matter has been settled.”

“But what about uh the pirates’ visits?”

“They were bluffing. You have no backbone, son. You can’t get a poor exiled princess to marry you and you let yourself be tricked by a few threats made by some pirate scumbags. Now go and explain to your whore exactly what a Sand is.”

“But father, you should hear me out. I have intelligence about those dragons. You will want to hear this.” He pleaded, desperate to obtain some kind of recognition from his father.

Doran tried to straighten himself without giving away how much pain he was in. His affliction was getting worse but he was not willing to let his son know how bad his gout had gotten during his absence. 

“Why didn’t you begin your sorry tale with that? Or were you too afraid to tell me that you let the princess and her dragon escape.” His father’s resentment hadn’t lessened one bit.

“The dragons do not belong to the Princess Daenerys.” At his father’s questioning look he added.  
“Yes, father, there are two dragons. Someone at the docks in Pentos described them as a green one and a white one. They claimed there was only one rider though and it was a male. So it couldn’t have been the Princess.” His tone slightly berating his father for the fool’s errand he had been sent on.

“Did you find out who the dragonrider was?” Doran Martell asked, remembering his younger brother’s latest cryptic letter.

Prince Quentyn, glad his father finally was willing to hear him out was quick to elaborate. “I only heard theories. Some servant girl told me the dragonrider had visited with the Princess. A beggar on the street told me however it was a sellsword belonging to the Golden Company, a bastard son of a great Northern House that had fled to Essos because his family was ashamed of him.”

“A bastard son of a Northern House with Valyrian blood? Nonsense! Did they say who the mother was?”

“Well, the tale grows even stranger. On my way over here I heard some sailors talk about how the Hand of the King had cheated the rightful heir of Winterfell out of his inheritance and that the young man would come to take his ancestral seat with dragons. When I asked who they were talking about they told me that Brandon Stark had married a woman at the Driftmark and that she had given birth to a son who resembles Lord Stark so much, nobody doubts his story.” Prince looked at his father expectantly.

“You are a bigger fool than I ever thought possible. Coming home with nothing but fanciful rumours. And what is worse, believing them as well.” His father declared with authority.

“But father,” Prince Quentyn began pleadingly.

“Think Quentyn. A dragonrider shows up in Pentos and visits the Princess. What is more likely? That he is a bastard of a northern house or that he is kin to the Targaryen Princess he happens to visit? Perhaps Viserys isn’t dead but has dyed his hair to fool us all. Must I do everything myself?” He pulled a chord to summon Areo Hotah.

“What will you do? Will you write the Princess?” Prince Quentyn was out of his depth. He could not understand his father’s reasoning.

“I can’t do that because of your actions, you oaf. Even your uncle has gotten wind somehow of your despicable behaviour and has cautioned me not to wake the dragon. He claims he was well on his way to forge a useful alliance with a very powerful ally and that my actions may have doomed us all to burn now.” 

Prince Quentyn wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the accusatory eyes of his father that looked at him as if he had murdered every last man in Dorne.

“But father,” Prince Quentyn tried once more to lessen his father’s ire or at the very least to redirect it.

“No but father me. You were asked to do whatever necessary to marry her. Resorting to violence was only allowed if you succeeded in making her pregnant. You didn’t succeed however, did you? I do not want to hear another excuse from your worthless mouth. Now leave my sight and ask your sister to join me. I do not want to see you before you have solved the issue with that pregnant whore. Oh, and you are responsible for our shore defenses. I will not allow the slightest failure. Nobody lands on our shores without my express permission. That includes pirates and noble visitors, whether they originate from Westeros or Essos. Now leave!” His father bellowed.

Doran Martell slumped in his chair when the door closed after him. He felt drained. He had used every last bit of energy not to show his son how frail he was becoming. He was extremely disappointed in his first born. He wondered if it would have not been better had his son perished at sea.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon uses the rest of his time at Winterfell to help Robb, to reason with Sansa and to talk to Domeric Bolton. He also deals with Willas Tyell. Gendry is working hard at Eastwatch.  
> In interlude 28 it will be high season for ravens.


	28. Breathing space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon uses his time at Winterfell to recuperate, helps Robb a bit and talks with Sansa, Willas Tyrell, Domeric Bolton to name a few. He travels to Eastwatch and reunites with Gendry.  
> In the interlude it is high season for ravens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, written by me and proofread by Ravenousreadr, who thankfully is always there to help me along.

*

After supper in his uncle’s solar, Jon revealed to Sansa who he really was in the presence of Robb and Lady Catelyn. Sansa took the news in stride, politely congratulated him with his good fortune but didn’t ask further questions or showed any kind of emotions. Soon after, she asked to be excused. When Jon looked at Robb raising one eyebrow and a question in his eyes, Robb just shrugged. Lady Catelyn gave some flimsy excuse for her daughter’s behaviour, something about Sansa having had a trying day and left soon after.

“Sansa has been trying everyone’s patience.” Robb told him when his mother had closed the door behind her. “I can’t understand her at all. She hasn’t once acknowledged Edric. He was talking about leaving before I uh, well you know before what. And now he is once more talking about leaving for Eastwatch. My sister is chasing away my friend.” 

Robb’s expression made it clear that he was not happy at all with Edric’s imminent departure.

“Robb, he only was supposed to be here for the duration of the royal visit. He has stayed much longer already. He either needs to resume his training under the tutelage of Ser Arthur or return to Starfall. If anything, he stayed longer because of Sansa.” 

“Loras is talking about leaving with you as well.” Robb complained.

“It is not as if we are all going on a pleasure trip without you, Robb. We are headed right into danger. We are preparing to face an enemy that outnumbers us at least ten to one. We are going to defend the North.” 

Jon walked over the hearth and stoked the fire that needed rekindling. He petted Ghost who lay lazily in front of the fireplace. Jon remembered Lady Catelyn’s ire when she realised the wolf would be there for the duration of the meeting. He had noticed the pursing of her lips the moment she spotted the direwolf. A pertinent look from Jon had been enough to get her to keep silent and ignore the animal’s presence. He savoured every moment he could spend in Ghost’s company. If he was honest, he took some pleasure in these small victories over Lady Catelyn. Somehow Robb’s mother rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn’t remember ever addressing her as Aunt Catelyn. He always used a more formal title when he couldn’t avoid talking to her.

He turned back to face Robb who hadn’t moved an inch and just sat there staring into the flames with empty eyes and a dejected look on his face.

“It is only logical they leave when Lord Umber and his houseguards do.” Jon made another attempt to get Robb to see that his friends leaving had nothing to do with deserting him.

“They will have a guide and extra protection for a large part of the journey. I will ask Lord Umber to send some of his men with them to see them safely to Eastwatch once they have reached the Last Hearth. Don’t forget they are not accustomed to travelling this far north.” 

“I know.” Robb looked up now, his eyes registering his environment again. “Lord Umber and Lord Karstark have asked for a meeting with me. Tomorrow if possible so they can make preparations to leave Winterfell afterwards and start the journey back to their keeps in the next few days.” 

Robb sighed and looked exhausted doing so. “I am sorry. I sometimes wish Father was here. I have not been able to discuss what to do about Greyjoy and Bolton with Uncle Benjen and you yet. I do not know if I can handle both meetings in one day and I might need time to think on what you two will advise me first.”

“If you feel pressured, tell the Lords tomorrow is not convenient and you will meet with them the day after. You are their acting Liege Lord. And Robb, your father can’t be here but our uncle can. Let Uncle Benjen sit in on that meeting. Even if you are the one they address and who will answer their questions, the Lords are more likely to keep their demands reasonable if he is present.”

Robb nodded and sat up a bit straighter. “I will keep that in mind. Perhaps if I have a good night’s rest I will be able to meet with them later in the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Be sure not to get cornered into making decisions before you are ready. Just hear what your bannermen have to say and then tell them that you will let them know your answer at your earliest convenience. I reckon they will want to know what will happen to the Dreadfort and its surrounding lands. They might argue they are entitled to some of the spoils since they helped out.”

“I know, Jon. I was planning on hearing yours and Uncle’s recommendations on that particular matter and see if we can reach a consensus. If that is not the case, I plan to write Father before making a final decision regarding such a major bannerman’s fate.”

“That seems like you have a good plan of action in place. Forget about it for now. Perhaps we can all join you in your room in a bit? We must take advantage of the time all of us are still at Winterfell. I know Loras and Edric enjoy our little get-togethers and I do too.”

“I’ll be expecting you three.” The corners of Robb’s mouth moved slightly upwards. “I look forward these gatherings as well. They are the most pleasant part of my day.”

“See you soon then.” Jon left the room and went in search of Loras and Edric.

 

***

 

The next morning, Jon was surprised to see Sansa join them in the Great Hall where he was breaking his fast. It was the first time she was up this early. She took the seat closest to him and paid him every attention. When he started his training session, he noticed her standing about in the courtyard. She stayed out there the entire duration and made a point of watching him to the exclusion of anyone else. During lunch she was able to seat herself next to him once more and flirted with him for all to see. Later that afternoon he was on his way to the courtyard when she accosted him once more. 

“Jon, please be a dear and escort me outside. I want to take a stroll around the Godswood.” 

Jon reigned in his temper and reminded himself that she counted only fourteen namedays. He saw right through her childish seducing tone and knew exactly why she was using him.

He took her arm and led her to an alcove. “Just stop it, Sansa. This ends now. You are just using me to get back at Edric.”

Sansa startled and looked up at him with big pleading eyes. “If you know that, why don’t you help me and just play along? I want to hurt him just as he hurt me.”

Jon let go of her arm, took a step back and tried to keep his tone friendly. “Sansa, first of all, you are asking the wrong man. Edric is one of my best friends. I will not lift a finger to hurt him. And while it is never nice to deliberately hurt someone, it is even worse when you add to Edric’s burden when he already is struggling to cope with the situation. He is doing everything he can to get your father’s consent. But by all means keep up your current behaviour and he may change his mind. You are doing your best to lose him Sansa and I do not think that is your wish at all.”

“Of course it is not. I want him to …,” she gasped. “Of course, you know all. You are the influential friend who doesn’t want to help us.” She accused him and tried to take a step back but bumped into the wall.

“Sansa, you do not know what you are talking about. Please listen to yourself. You are acting very childish, very selfish. Think about what you are doing, please. You need to convince your parents that you are mature enough to know what you want and what will make you happy. I am sure your mother reports every detail of your behaviour to your father.”

Seeing her pale he knew he finally had gotten through to her.

“How can Lord Dayne convince your father that you love him and that even though you are still rather young, you both are very sure that you want this betrothal? Lady Catelyn will write to him that you have set your sights on me ever since you learned who I am. Hells, even the Master of Whisperer’s little birds will confirm the reports to your father. Not to mention what the Lords present here will think of you.” 

“I am sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean to. But I am so unhappy.” Tears fell down her cheeks.

Jon fought against the natural instinct of pulling her in a comforting embrace and settled for putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“I know Sansa. But keep in mind you are not the only one who is miserable. If anything you should help each other cope instead of adding to the other’s misery.” 

A servant entered the corridor they were standing in, but disappeared in a room without reacting to their presence. Jon started to get uncomfortable and almost regretted confronting her. When she looked back up at him he was relieved to see she had calmed down and gave her some much needed advice.

“Alter your behaviour toward me as well as toward Edric, treat both of us as friends but no more in public. I will try to stop the rumours from reaching your father and write to him the Gods know what to counter your mother’s reports. You better write something to your father as well.”

“Can’t you do more, Jon? Being who you are, I mean.” 

Jon sighed. “Lord Stark is your father Sansa. I can only stall a betrothal he would want to make to further my cause, arguing there might be other options. Believe me. We have been working on that already. We are also doing everything we can to raise Lord Dayne in your father’s esteem. But the rest is up to you two.” His eyes were willing her to get his message without him needing to put her on the spot more than he already had.”

“I didn’t know. I haven’t spoken to Edric, I mean Lord Dayne in a while.” Sansa looked miserably.

“Well, now you do know. Edric and I have not given up hope. You can at least acknowledge his company once in a while. He is starting to think you do not like him any longer and that you prefer to catch a royal husband instead.” Jon kept his tone gentle not wanting to make her more upset than she already was.

“I am not. I assure you I am not.” She pleaded with him to believe her.

“It is not me you should reassure, Sansa.” Jon looked around to see if anyone was listening in. The hallway was deserted and all the doors were closed as far as he could see.

“What if you go to the Godswood as planned but not in my company? Go alone. I will find Edric and ask him if he is willing to join you there for a few moments. Lady Brienne will chaperone from a distance, so keep it decent.”

Sansa blushed even harder. “Of course. Thank you, Jon.” She curtsied and stepped aside so she could walk past him to the exit.

Jon presumed a formal stance, bowed to her and held out his arm. “Well then my Lady. Let me escort you a small part of the way.” 

 

***

 

The next morning Brienne woke Jon rather early and informed him that Lord Willas Tyrell asked for a private meeting with Lord Celtigar. According to Brienne, he was packed and ready to leave but wanted to talk to him first. He was waiting in the library. Jon hurried through his morning’s ablutions dressed himself quickly and made his way over there before breaking his fast. The heir of Highgarden came to the point immediately. 

“I won’t leave here under false pretenses,” he announced as soon as Jon had closed the door so they could speak in private. “It would not help settle matters between our houses and you have the fate of my younger brother in your hands.”

“My Lord,” Jon had replied surprised by these statements. “Has anything happened? Is Loras all right?”

“He is. He is waiting in the courtyard to take his leave of me. I hope you will still allow me to leave when I have told you all that I have come here to say. But I wanted to prove to you that House Stark isn’t the only house in the realm that knows the true meaning of the word honour.”

“Do you want to take a seat?” Jon eyed the Tyrell heir who stood stiffly, dossed out in a heavy fur coat ready to travel across the cold northern fields.

“No, this won’t take long, I hope. I want you to be aware that I heard some servants talk last night while I was looking out my window admiring the stars before retiring. I am sure they didn’t know I was there but I reckon I have a good grasp of the situation now.”

“What is it you think you know, Lord Tyrell?” Jon kept his tone even. His mind was shifting through several possibilities.

“I know who your parents were and that you have more than a direwolf as a pet. I also know that you are going to press your claim and that the North, the Vale and the Riverlands will support you.”

“That is quite a lot.” Jon eyed Willas Tyrell who stood as still as a statue. He noticed the uncertainty flitter in the eyes of the Tyrell heir.

“And how do you propose we handle this situation, Lord Tyrell?” Jon decided to hear him out and give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, nobody had forced Willas Tyrell to confess this. The man had voluntarily jeopardised his much wished for departure. 

“I vow not to send a letter home but will inform Grandmother upon my arrival at Highgarden instead. That gives you a moon and a half. If the entire North knows, it is only a matter of time before the capital will hear of your existence. I propose you offer your hand in marriage to my sister and she will bring you the alliance of a prosperous Kingdom.” Willas Tyrell looked expectantly at Jon.

Jon didn’t hesitate. “I am no longer free to do that. My marriage is all but arranged.”

He paused but quickly decided this was a good opportunity to entice House Tyrell to accept an alliance with the North one more time.

“House Stark is my closest kin and a most trusted ally. A betrothal with one of my cousins is as binding to me as a betrothal to myself. I consider House Stark as my house as well. I am half Stark. However these negotiations should take place between my uncle, Eddard Stark and the head of your house.”

“Grandmother will be disappointed when she learns that she missed the opportunity to betroth her granddaughter to a Targaryen Prince who most likely will soon be the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.” Willas sighed. A serious look covered his face. “Now that everything is out in the open, am I free still to leave as planned?”

“Of course, Lord Tyrell. I accept the vow you gave earlier. I trust you not to send a raven home to inform your grandmother of my identity after you leave Winterfell and before you arrive at Highgarden. I sincerely hope our three houses will be bound closely together in future. It has been brought to my attention that your brother is considering becoming a part of my entourage. If that is the case I swear to you that I will never consider him a hostage. If ever our houses should meet on opposite sides of a battlefield, he will be allowed to choose freely which side to support.”

“I thank you for that and wish you good fortune in all your endeavours, Prince Jon.” Willas Tyrell bowed signalling the end of the interview.

“You’re welcome. And in turn I wish you safe travels, Lord Tyrell. Perhaps I’ll meet your grandmother before you do and will be able to reveal everything to her myself.”

Taking in Willas Tyrell’s stricken face, Jon chuckled. “Don’t worry. If that is the case, I’ll break the news to her gently. I will treat her with all the respect she is due. I am confident we will be allies soon, Lord Tyrell.” That last part was spoken once more in a serious tone with a formal expression on Jon’s face.

Willas bowed one last time and left the room. Jon hoped he had made the right decision by trusting the grandson of the Queen of Thorns.

 

***

 

The previous night after leaving Robb’s room and reviewing the replies to his most urgent messages that had been ready to send out, Jon had felt somewhat overburdened and had visited the Godswood. Loras, who assisted Brienne in taking turns to guard him, had kept watch near the entrance. Jon had prayed fervently to the Old Gods asking for strength and guidance. The substance induced visions had shown a shortcoming in the prophecy and he felt burdened by all the responsibilities he carried. 

Since his visit to the Godswood the previous night had not given him the state of mind he had set out to achieve in the Godswood, this evening, after leaving Robb asleep in his bedchamber, he asked a confused guard to supply him with a tent. Together with Loras Tyrell he set out into the woods. 

Together they set up the tent in a clearing close to the place where his dragons usually rested when they were not out hunting. As soon as they had a fire going, Loras Tyrell used the opportunity to offer to swear his sword to Jon. 

“Are you sure about this Loras? Your grandmother might not like this.” He cautioned the young man kneeling in front of him. “Sit down, Loras. Let us discuss this first.”

Loras looked up his face stricken. “Are you turning my offer down? Am I not good enough or is it my house.”

“Loras,” Jon’s expression was solemn. The tone of his voice however contained honesty and warmth when he answered. “I would be honoured to have you as a member of my Kingsguard.” 

He paused when he saw Loras’ face lit up. “Of course I would accept you. If we come to an agreement, it is for a position as a knight in my Kingsguard. You are more than good enough with your sword, Loras. And I trust you implicitly. But we need to negotiate some terms because of the house you belong to.”

“I act on my own. I am my own man, my Prince. It is my sword I am offering, not the allegiance of my house.” Loras looked at him, hope shining in his eyes. “I will be loyal to you Jon, no matter who my family decides to side with eventually.”

“I do not doubt your word now, Loras. And I would never ask you to engage in a fight against your kin. I would advise you to stay neutral but would leave the choice up to you. But still, just imagine receiving letters from home pleading you to reconsider. What if Willas should die for whatever reason and you become the heir to Highgarden and the Reach?”

“I would never wish that upon Willas. But if that does happen and my dear brother is no more, there will be no conflict of interest form me. I will pledge the support of the Reach to you, Jon. I firmly believe that is the sensible thing to do.”

“You say that now, but I know you love your family, Loras. Could you still serve the forces that harmed some of your kin during to the conflict between our houses? Even if I order each and every soldier singlehandedly not to harm any of your family and give them orders to only contain them, should it come down to a fight, a battle is chaos, Loras. Once the fighting starts, nobody can guarantee that your family members won’t be harmed. What if Willas tries to be a hero and fights on the front lines?”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to a battle. And Jon, Willas won’t be fighting on frontlines any time soon. You can’t have missed the fact that my brother walks with a bit of a limp. At home he uses a cane. Amongst strangers he is too proud to do that. He prefers to suffer the pain instead of appearing weak in public. After his injury, he stopped practising his jousting and hasn’t swung a sword in years. He might oversee a war council but that is about it. Anyway I can’t believe my family will be foolish enough to engage you on the battlefield. I do not think you believe that either.”

Loras took a deep breath and looked at Jon’s inscrutable face. “What are you actually saying, Jon? Do you doubt I will go back on my word?” 

Loras’ disappointment was palpable and Jon knew it could turn into anger if he was not very careful with his next words.

“I know you are true to your word, Loras. I know you believe in our cause. Please hear me out. I will state you my terms. If you are still willing to become a member of my Kingsguard after hearing them, I will accept your vow. A knighthood will follow on the day I ascend the throne.”

Loras looked at him, resolve in his eyes. “Then state your terms, Jon. You are trying my patience.”

Jon took a deep breath. “Once you have sworn your sword to me, I vow that we will do everything in our power, exhaust every possibility to avoid open conflict between our houses. If they declare war on us, your position will be temporarily suspended. You will be able to choose to terminate your services to me at that point. However, if you choose to stay with me, you will only be allowed in my presence again after the conflict with your family has been resolved however long that may take. You must accept that. My other Kingsguards will not want you near me. They have my safety and best interest in mind.” Jon sighed. “I am trying to be honest here, Loras.”

“Those are your terms?” This time it was Loras that kept his face blank face and betrayed nothing.

“One more,” Jon said his voice firm despite Loras’ change in demeanour. “If your elder brother for one reason or other is no longer amongst the living, you are released of your vow and will agree to become heir of Highgarden. I want you to point that out to your family and hint at your unwavering allegiance to me when you inform them of your decision to swear your sword to me. It might make them think twice before declaring war on house Targaryen.”

“What can I reveal to them of your identity should I write this letter?” Loras asked.

“That I am an influential Lord that has Lord Stark’s ear and many more allies. That I will play a paramount role in the events to come and you believe me an honourable man worthy of your sword. That you might be the saving grace of your house one day and that they will all be grateful to you for choosing to side with a close ally of House Stark and giving your house a fighting chance to keep their status in the future.”

“You do realise that if we take this path, that it will give Grandmother a means to hedge her bets?”

“Leave your grandmother to Lord Stark, Varys, and me. Or perhaps I should include Prince Oberyn in this. For now, let us cross words with her and see who comes out on top of these political games. That is, if you are still willing to go ahead and serve me as a loyal Kingsguard. I will want you to include in your vows that you will never raise your sword against me, even if your family does.”

The sound of rustling leaves in the wind and the crackling sounds of a fire were the only things that could be heard now. Both young men looked each other in the eyes with an earnest expression.  
Then Loras kneeled and the necessary words were spoken by both. 

That night Jon slept inside the warm embrace of his dragons his mind clear and relaxed and he dreamt of Dany. Loras had been left to cope with the fire and the small tent. The young Tyrell had adapted to the North by now. Gone was the flowery coat. The thin garment had been replaced by a beautiful thick woollen coat with an enormous fur collar Loras had bought in Wintertown. He also had fur mittens and a hat with earflaps to go with it. Nobody who saw him now would suspect he was a southern Lord. 

Loras didn’t mind being alone in the tent. He was happy. Not only had he been promised a knighthood soon, Jon had encouraged him to write a long letter to Renly without fearing that the content would be read by anyone but the recipient. Jon personally would deliver the sealed message into Prince Renly’s hands. 

Jon being Jon, had not used Prince Renly’s situation to influence Loras into making his decision. But as soon as the formalities were suspended and they had been sitting close to the fire, relaxed and satisfied by the outcome of their discussion, Jon had told him of his plans to help Prince Renly. They were not conditional on whatever Loras decided to do next. And Loras believed Jon. He believed him unconditionally and prayed that he would never have to choose between his house and Jon. If ever he had to, he would choose Jon but he would lose a part of himself.

As soon as Jon had excused himself and gone to spend the night close to his dragons, Loras had started a long letter to Renly. He felt lighter now that he could pour his heart into it. Perhaps there was even the possibility they could meet beyond the Wall. If the army of the dead was on the march, Loras was to go with Jon beyond the Wall and perhaps a meeting could be arranged. Loras slept well that night alone in a tent in the cold North. If only his grandmother could see him now. He was sure she would never understand though.

 

***

 

Jon’s next morning at Winterfell, after breaking his fast in company of Arya and Rickon and another training session, he spent the rest of the morning writing the rest of his messages to all his allies. Thanks to his nightly excursion, his mind was clearer and he made short work of his correspondence. 

He counted the days he intended to spend in the North and compared them with the date that Davos would arrive on Dragonstone. If he timed it right, he could go from the Wall to Pyke and then make a short stop at Dragonstone. If he stayed the full sennight at Winterfell, a sennight visiting the three locations at the Wall, two days flying to Pyke, hopefully only spending one night there, he could arrive at Dragonstone two days after that. 

According to his calculations, Davos and Ser Arthur would have arrived on Dragonstone around the time they besieged Pyke. Prince Oberyn would be in King’s Landing and would find several scrolls from Jon waiting for him filled with suggestions on how to deal with the erratic behaviour of his older brother, Prince Doran. Perhaps a meeting could be arranged with the Dornish Prince on Dragonstone or the Driftmark? 

The words came naturally as he finally wrote the promised missive to Varys detailing the events at the Dreadfort, warning him once more that rumours would probably come to King’s Landing from all sides now that most of the North would surely be talking about not much else than his real identity in the coming days. The game was almost up and he promised Varys to do everything to go south as soon as possible. He informed him that in a matter of days he should have the measure of the situation beyond the Wall and hopefully they could finally start making concrete plans. 

He also promised to inform Varys of his arrival the very moment he stepped foot on Dragonstone again. He invited the Master of Whisperers to attend a council meeting there so he could be present when they discussed the best way to reach to throne room in King’s Landing. That is if the man could slip away from King Robert without causing suspicion. He also mentioned the issue with Lord Dayne and Lady Sansa but kept it short, not wanting to burden the Master of Whisperers with such a small matter longer than absolutely necessary.

Things were coming together. Jon could hardly believe it. After years and years of preparations, it could be just a matter of sennights now. 

A letter had arrived from Dany that morning. She wrote that the villagers on Dragonstone as well as on the Driftmark were all working feverishly to dye the sails of their ships. Banners were being sown by every female available, young and old alike. They had all volunteered as soon as she had put out the word that she needed assistance to help their Prince display their sigil for the entire realm to see. She told them the people had never been so happy and everyone wanted to contribute to his cause. Even seven year old boys were helping with the logistics of sorting armour. Their older brothers were carrying them to the craftsmen and back to the ships when they bore the mark of House Targaryen. 

Jekken, the blacksmith had dusted off the molds depicting the three headed dragon and after almost twenty years he was once more making metal versions of their sigil. The carpenters were helping him to affix them to the shields. He had taken on several apprentices to remodel the armour of the crew of their ships. On Dragonstone several temporary workshops had been erected. Everyone who had two capable hands was helping transform the neutral fleet into a Targaryen royal armada. Two carpenters were chiselling day and night to change the figureheads of the largest ships. Dany also described how, when it grew dark, a large bonfire was lit on the beach and most of those who had finished their chores for the day gathered there and indulged in a kind of pre-celebration of his reign. 

Dany’s letter brimmed with excitement and happiness. She had a full schedule now and every three days, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell accompanied her to the Driftmark so she could check the progress there. She had a long list with tasks, counted every piece of armour, every shield and was able to give him a detailed progress report. Sam had given her some pointers on how to do that effectively and she wrote that more than fifty per cent of the sails would be finished by the end of this sennight. 

Jon put the letter down and stared through the window but saw nothing of the northern scenery. Instead his thoughts were on the green cliffs of Dragonstone and he imagined standing there beside Dany watching their entire fleet full sail with the large sigils of the three headed dragons fluttering in the wind. A soft knock startled him out of his daydream. Lady Brienne entered the room. 

“My Prince, Lord Bolton asks for an audience.” 

Jon smiled at her formal speech. “Thanks Lady Brienne. Please let him in and then go and find yourself some lunch. I am quite safe here and have my sword with me.” He looked pointedly at Ser Domeric’s empty scabbard, the man having appeared in the doorway behind her.

“My Prince,” she bowed and left the room, closing the door after Domeric Bolton had taken two steps forward.

“My Prince,” Domeric Bolton bowed formally when he halted just inside the room.

“Do be seated, Lord Bolton. But since the door is closed and it is just the two of us, would you please call me Jon?”

“I’d be honoured, uh Jon. But then it is only fair you address me as Domeric.”

“Gladly. Now what can I do for you, Domeric?”

“I wanted to ask you to put in a good word for me with Lord Stark. I know House Stark will decide my fate soon. I thought perhaps I could propose to actively help you obtain your throne and in return House Bolton could keep the Lordship over the Dreadfort and its position of major bannermen of House Stark.”

“How would you do that? I mean, how do you even know which of the men at the Dreadfort you can trust to foreswear the flaying and other vile habits? It has come to my ears that your father and his bannermen still practice _‘first night’._ I am sorry to put you on the spot like that but it needs to be discussed.”

“I assure you, my Prince, I take no offense. I have already been giving it some thought. Several minor Lords have ignored my father and Ramsay and kept their distance from the Dreadfort. I found refuge with some of them so I have a small following to begin with. I would ask every Lord to swear a new oath to me and House Stark. The words would be slightly amended and a sentence would be added wherein they vow to practice neither flaying nor first night and to give me the right to behead them on the spot with their own swords and confiscate their property in case they disobey.”

“That would work if they are true to their word. You would also need to be firmly in control so you can reinforce it.” 

Jon looked at the sigil imprinted on the boiled leather garment Domeric was wearing. “A bit of a conundrum though, foreswearing flaying and still have it as your sigil, proudly displaying it for all to see.”

“I, uh, I,“ Domeric Bolton was taken by surprise and did not have a reply at the ready.

“What if I told you to go to Lord Stark with a different proposal? Of course I would welcome your support for my cause but what if you did so as the founder of a new major house that ruled the bannermen formerly sworn to house Bolton? If the Warden of the North agrees, we could declare house Bolton extinct and you could choose a new name, a new sigil. If I were you, I would tear parts of the Dreadfort down. Remodel it so to speak, so that it looks a bit more uh inviting shall we say? And while you are at it, why not give it another name. Newfort, or something to do with the new name of your House or the sigil you pick.”

“I can do that?” Domeric Bolton looked at Jon, his expression betraying his confusion.

“I’m sure we can find a way should that be your wish. But first you should get reinstated as a major bannerman by your Liege Lord and be allowed to keep your castle. For what it is worth, you have my support with that.”

“That is worth a lot, my Prince. Robb Stark told me House Stark swore fealty to you.”

“But I do not interfere in internal matters of the North, unless the safety of the people or justice demands it.” Jon cautioned.

“Nevertheless, your recommendation will carry weight. Thank you, Jon. And if I can be of assistance to your cause, please ask and if it is in my power, I will be glad to step up.”

“Let’s wait for House Stark to seal the fate of your house. And if you are serious in supporting me, what would be most effective is to send logistical support to the Wall. We will need to transport dragonglass weapons from Eastwatch to Castle Black and to the Free Folk settlement. So if you could lend horses, wagons, perhaps bows, arrows, I don’t know for sure. In four days I will leave for the Wall and will know more specifics. Perhaps I’ll know even sooner if a raven arrives with the necessary information.”

“I could send the most my father’s houseguard, the ones that are currently imprisoned at the Dreadfort to the Wall to help there until the situation is resolved. I would ask your promise that they will not be forced to say the Night’s Watch vows though and be allowed to return to me afterwards” Domeric offered.

“The fate of these men is for Robb Stark to decide.” A pause. Jon swallowed. “Perhaps I might use this opportunity to express my condolences with the loss of your father. No matter what he did, no man deserves to die that way. I am sorry the funeral was kept short.”

“It was for the best.” Domeric answered then straightened himself as if forcing himself back to the conversation at hand. “I beg you to at least ask for the release of the male servants that are being kept confined as well. I am willing to accompany you to Eastwatch and help you fight the dead. That is, if I am allowed to leave Winterfell.” He added hastily

“I’ll be certain to do that. However, about you joining me on my travel to Eastwatch, you couldn’t. You might arrive only after I had left once more.” 

At Domeric’s questioning look, Jon offered a small smile. “I am flying there. It’ll take me half a day at the most to reach Eastwatch.”

“Oh, of course. A better means of transport than horses.”

“Faster.” Jon smile dimmed. He did not correct Domeric Bolton but he felt insulted in Rhaegal’s stead to be referred to as means of transport and compared to a horse.

“Is that all?” He asked a bit cooler than before.

Domeric Bolton looked surprised by the change in tone but stood immediately. “Yes, my Prince. I will leave you now.”

Jon already regretting his lack of self-restraint stood as well. “Let’s go the Great Hall together. I am sure luncheon will be ready by now.” 

He saw the man relax before his eyes and side by side they walked into the hallway. Lady Brienne’s had given over guard duty to Loras, since it was the Tyrell who fell into step with Domeric Bolton following Jon. Soon after, the three of them entered the Great Hall to find that most everyone had already gathered there to partake of luncheon. 

 

***

By the end of his sennight at Winterfell everyone was aware of his kinship with House Stark and his status as Targaryen Prince and heir to the throne. After word had spread about his role in the rescue at the Stony Shore but more importantly of their own Lord Robb at the Dreadfort, Jon could not make four steps without someone bowing to him or vowing him their allegiance. Aside from a small skirmish between a few servants and some guards that Robb Stark had put down with authority, everybody accepted him as an ally of the North and treated him with respect. 

His morning trainings had drawn an ever growing audience until once more Robb Stark had stepped in and had limited the number of attendees installing a kind of rotating system so everyone got his chance to see the Prince spar. By the time Jon was set to leave for the Wall, he had become their hero and was proclaimed the best swordsman that had ever lived. Jon was glad Robb took it all in stride and told him jokingly to enjoy it while it lasted since the competition was incapacitated for the time being. 

They had grown closer again. Edric, Loras and Jon ended every evening in Robb’s bedroom playing silly games or engaging in some other form of entertainment. They sometimes spent the entire evening dreaming up crazy plans for the future. When Robb started to speculate on betrothals however, Jon silently signalled him not to dwell on the subject his eyes resting significantly on Edric. That topic had been the only discord between him and Robb during his stay here. In the end, Robb had admitted Jon was probably right but had added his cousin had better see things set to rights as soon as he was King. His tone had been slightly teasing but Jon had caught his meaning.

Jon, Loras and Edric always left Robb’s room after the young man had fallen asleep. Robb usually woke once or twice every night. Uncle Benjen, Loras and Edric were alternating nights and would be alerted by a servant so they could keep Robb company until his fears subsided and he fell asleep once more. This resulted in Robb looking rested and healthy except for his broken hand and bandaged arm. Jon knew from the reports of his uncle though, that appearances were deceiving and Robb was not all right, not by a long shot. Aside from his frequent nightmares, he still got frightened by unexpected movement or noises. It would take some time still for the trauma he had suffered to subside. 

Jon himself was back to full strength. His sparring sessions became longer. Arya sometimes complained it took forever before he was ready to take her on. The young girl trained seriously though and Jon saw the potential. When Lady Brienne left Winterfell with him she would be derived of her teacher. He needed to find a capable trainer willing to adjust his lessons to her physique. Perhaps Prince Oberyn would know of someone suitable? The gracious fighting style of the Dornish Prince would suit Arya well. He made a mental note to mention the topic in his next letter to the Dornish Prince.

Welcome news came from Blacktyde. Yara Greyjoy confirmed the day of their joint attack. Jon’s itinerary was set for the coming sennight and a half. He made the necessary preparations, took his leave of all his cousins, promised Rickon he would bring a dragonglass sword for him next time he visited and went with Lady Brienne to the woods where Rhaegal and Viserion waited for him. Before taking off, he asked her to show Arya some drills she could perform on her own once Lady Brienne left the Stark’s service. 

He also warned her to look out for a message from him. Depending on the situation he would find at the Wall, she, Loras and Edric were either to travel to Eastwatch or to depart for White Harbour and sail to Dragonstone. When she complained he would be without a Kingsguard, he explained that even Ser Arthur had needed to reconcile himself with the situation and the knight had guarded Jon faithfully every day since he had been born until he celebrated his seventeenth nameday. If Ser Arthur could adjust to the new circumstances, surely the Lady Brienne could as well. Lady Brienne’s jaw had shifted but she had pursed her lips and kept silent.

 

***

 

The dragons were glad to leave the woods surrounding Winterfell. They had adhered to his request to make themselves scarce even though they had been bored as hell. Ghost had been given the choice to stay with his siblings or to hurry to Eastwatch and stay there until the conflict with the dead was resolved. His direwolf had given Jon a long look and had taken off for Eastwatch two days before Jon left.

He looked forward to seeing Gendry again. Arya had ordered him to give the blacksmith many greetings. And would Jon also ask Gendry if he would please, please make a dragonglass dagger for her? Jon had promised to give him the message. He had something different in mind though. He would bring back a long spear for her. 

The idea had come to him when he had compared her fighting style with Prince Oberyn’s. Arya would probably always stay somewhat shorter than other females and a spear could give her a wider reach. His letter to Prince Oberyn was already on its way. The Prince would receive several letters from him when he arrived at King’s Landing. He trusted Varys to see to it that they would all reach the Prince safely with the seals intact.

Rhaegal flew faster than ever. Viserion at times struggled to keep up. It seemed the dragon was glad to have his human back and the rest of the flight, Jon concentrated on merging his mind with his dragon and enjoyed his company.

Soon enough Eastwatch was visible on the horizon. He turned his thoughts to the ones he would see there. Jon had felt somewhat guilty for having left Gendry behind with only Stokeworth and Rykker for company all this time. Perhaps Sandor had visited? Still he would have a lot to tell him. A message could only relate a few facts of Robb’s rescue. Jon knew Gendry would have lots of questions. Rhaegal mentally nudged him and Jon once more emptied his mind and let himself relax and enjoy the flight.

 

***

 

Gendry and several Night’s Watch recruits welcomed him when he entered the courtyard. Gendry enveloped him in a bear hug with his strong arms. He had clearly been missed by his friend. Stokeworth and Rykker greeted him a bit more reserved aware of their station as guards temporarily assigned to him. It was obvious though that they were relieved and happy that their Prince was back and seemed healthy and well. 

Jon scanned the men in attendance. There was not a single hostile face to be seen. He and his dragons were a welcome sight now at the Wall. Everybody had heard the tales from his rescues at the Stony Shore, of his uncle ambushed by dead wights and how he was instrumental in providing them with the necessary tools and support to fight the scary enemy that would soon be coming for all of them.

When Jon got asked for the fifth time whether it was true that he had killed a White Walker with a Valyrian steel sword and that hundreds of wights had just dropped dead for good, he started to think he should send these men of the Night’s Watch to King’s Landing to spread rumours in his favour to increase his popularity there. At least here they understood the importance of what he was doing and how useful his dragons were. 

As soon as Jon had been introduced to the leading men at Eastwatch and a meeting time had been agreed upon, Gendry led Jon to a large wooden shed. 

“It is best you see for yourself.” Gendry beamed proudly when after opening the door, Jon almost missed a step and his mouth fell open. 

“Wow. Gendry, this is amazing. You did all this in just a few sennights?” Crates with arrowheads, spearheads, axe heads, larger crates with daggers and short swords all made with volcanic glass were stashed against the walls in an orderly fashion. Because they ran out of space, more crates were crammed under the large tables where tools and unfinished products were strewn about. 

“How much of the material did you use already?” Jon asked him when he found his speech again. Jon had stopped before a crate filled to the brim with spearheads and took out a fistful to examine them at close range.

“Almost the entire shipload. But Jon, didn’t you know? A few days ago another ship arrived.” Gendry beamed from ear to ear. “As far as I can tell, we will have more dragonglass than we will ever need. I took the liberty to send a few wagons of the raw material to Castle Black with instructions on how to work it. I am sure Donal Noye will be able to make excellent weapons if someone is willing to read the instructions out loud to him.”

“Good thinking! Now I will not need to ferry heavy bags to Castle Black. We will only need to get some of them to the Free Folk.

“I already sent word to Sandor about our progress a few days ago and asked whether it was not possible that the Free Folk could come and get some themselves. Perhaps if you ask them, they will come running?”

Jon briefly looked up at Gendry before resuming his inspection of the pieces of dragonglass he had on display in the outstretched palm of his left hand.

“I’ll do you one better, Gendry. I am going to fly over there myself in a day or two with a few samples and ask them in person to send a convoy to collect some more. I will convince the garrison commander here to provision the encampment of the Free Folk at Hardhome. We better leave it to Cotter Pyke to determine how to distribute the dragonglass we assign to the Night’s Watch amongst the manned castles. 

Jon walked among the crates, lifting up several items, testing the balance of a sword, the sharpness of the arrow points and examined their symmetric shapes.

“Gendry this is absolutely beyond imagination. How the hells have you managed all this in such a short time?”

“Come and see us at work tomorrow morning. We start bright and early. Witness with your own eyes how I have a kind of cooperation going on.” He said smugly. “The Umbers sent a blacksmith to help the one already here. So, there are two blacksmiths and myself. The three of us supervise an entire regiment of apprentices. The three of us see to the melting and mixing of the material at just the right temperature and also start the cooling process. The apprentices get to work with the cooled down shapes of the smaller items. Each of them has been taught to make one specific item. We take turns supervising them and correct them if necessary. When we’ve melted enough for the day, the two exempt from supervising duty make the more delicate pieces. The bigger the object, the more difficult to make it well-balanced and strong enough.”

“I’ll be certain to come and admire you all at work.” Jon had returned the items to their respective crates and now stood right before a crate with daggers and was picking some, inspecting them closely up one by one. 

“Have you heard from Sandor at all?” He asked absently checking the smooth handle of a dagger.

“Just a short scroll. Sandor is a strange choice for an ambassador, Jon.” Gendry shook his head in wonderment. “I can’t for the life of me see Clegane travelling between the Free Folk and the Wall, representing your interest and keeping you informed.” 

“Well, he’ll make do. I’ll visit him and try to point out that a few more words in a message are not necessarily a bad thing.” Jon laughed not concerned at all. “When will you finish up here today? I have much I want to tell you.” 

Jon had finally taken his eyes of the dragonglass weapons though he still held a dagger and a short sword in his hands. He deliberately kept his face and tone neutral when he remarked, “Arya ordered me to give you her greetings and to ask you if you please, please would make a dragonglass dagger for her.” 

Jon smiled when he saw Gendry’s face lighten up.

“She still remembers me? Wait, Arya said please?” Gendry grinned at Jon.

“How could she forget you? She carries that sword around and treats it as if it is her most prized possession. She tells all who want to hear that my friend is the best blacksmith in the entire realm.” Jon mimicked Arya’s tone and both men laughed out loud. 

“Believe me or not,” Jon continued when they had stopped laughing, “She said puh-leeze at least two times in the sentence where she bossed me around to ask you for a dagger. But don’t start getting ideas. She said please to me as many times during a conversation about Princes and dragons.” Jon eyes twinkled.

“Of course she can have a dagger. I will make one for her with an imprint of a direwolf.” Gendry was quick to give in.

“I promised Rickon a small sword and I should bring something for Robb and Sansa too.” Jon looked apologetically at Gendry. “They can be ordinary ones from the crates. I do not want to keep you from your duty any more than necessary.”

Gendry huffed playfully, pretending to be offended. “Ordinary ones?! My Lord Prince is not easily satisfied. These are all excellent pieces, tested for strength and checked for balance and design by yours truly, I’ll have you know. I challenge you to find a bad one.”

“All right, all right. I give in. I apologize for belittling your work, my most excellent Lord Blacksmith.” Jon bowed mock-showing his respect, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, I grant you, none of them have a sigil on them. But I promise to make one for Arya.” He looked at Jon. “One dagger is enough?”

“One dagger is what she asked for. I had another thought.” Jon told him his idea of the longspear he wanted to gift her and explained his motivations. 

“I could make one with spearheads on both sides?” Gendry suggested eagerly. “That would be even more effective. Sam sent me a drawing of such a weapon.” Gendry went to a corner where a crate stood that had a lid on it. He lifted it and searched for the right scroll. “Here, see for yourself.”

Jon took the scroll and rolled it out. It was a drawing of two short spears that could be combined to one long spear if you screwed the two handles together so they formed a double handle in the middle of the spear’s length. 

“This would do even better.” He studied the design a little closer. “I can imagine it is even more effective than what I had in mind. Perhaps we should teach the women here to fight with this. I could show them some basic moves I learned from.”

“A Dornish Prince,” Gendry interrupted him his tone once more serious. “I remember that night all too well, Jon.” 

Jon thought back to their sea voyage and how Gendry had needed to come to terms with the fact that he travelled not only in the company of noble Lords but in the presence of a Prince as well.

“Do you regret making friends with me?” Jon asked him keeping his tone light not willing to let on that Gendry’s change of mood affected him.

“Of course not. I was just reminded about the others, you know. It has been some time since I’ve seen Sam, Edric and Robb. It has been somewhat lonely here. Stokeworth and Rykker are okay but they are not uh, not the same age?” Gendry stammered that last sentence.

“Age has little to do with it, Gendry. I told you before, we share a bond. We made a pact and that is not something to take lightly. It might seem the most normal thing to you because you have not met many men and we all instantly formed an easy friendship, but it is not all that common. I am certain that in the course of your life you will meet lots of people your own age and not get along with them or just stay indifferent acquaintances. We have been lucky to find each other when we did.”

Jon put his hand on Gendry’s shoulder. “You were not forgotten. We all missed you as well. Edric and Robb expressed the desire to see you soon. They are planning a reunion once we are not threatened by an army of mystical creatures. You should have heard all the hair brained schemes they have come up with for future meetings.”

“You saw them all? I thought you were headed for Dragonstone when last I saw you.” Gendry frowned.

“I was. I spent almost three sennights there but then something happened.” Jon sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He looked around but decided against elaborating here. 

“Perhaps we can talk some more tonight before retiring? Do you have your own sleeping quarters or do you share?”

“I share with Rykker and Stokeworth but perhaps you will be given a room of your own? I could join you there?” Gendry asked tentatively.

“I would like that. I’ll go find the garrison commander and ask to be assigned a room for a couple of nights with two cots. See you soon Gendry.

Jon walked outside and was flanked immediately by Stokeworth and Rykker.  
“How did you find Dragonstone, my Prince?” They asked falling into step next to him.

“I was pleasantly surprised by it.” Jon replied easily. “The castle is unlike any other I have ever seen. The cliffs are true beauties of nature. I was glad to see Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell again and of course, the Princess Daenerys lives there as well now. She arrived the day after I did.”

“I would give anything to see the South again.” Stokeworth remarked.

“Who knows,” Jon answered absently. “Once I am King, anything can happen. After all, you committed no crime. A royal pardon is all you would need to be freed from your vows. 

He stopped and looked behind him. Both men stood rooted to the spot, their eyes suspiciously moist. Jon mentally chastised himself. How could he speak so matter of fact about this? How could he forget that these loyal men had spent more than eighteen years in exile, their only crime being that they had been loyal to House Targaryen? 

He cleared his throat. “Well, that is the future. We still have to deal with the threat here and now. Better make sure we all survive so you can be recompensed later.”

Rykker nodded. Both men were at loss for words. They started walking again, the subject dropped, but Jon saw a spark of energy in both men that hadn’t been there before. He vowed to do everything possible to see that all the men stuck at the Wall for mere political reasons would one day be reunited with their homeland and their kin.

 

***

 

That evening, Jon and Gendry didn’t attend the men in the common room where the recruits spent most evenings relaxing together. Jon had been given a room with two modest cots and it was decided that Gendry would spend the night in his room the few nights he was here.

 

While they ate, Jon described Dragonstone to him, told him about his stay there and mentioned his reception at the Driftmark. When they cleared their plates and put them in the hallway for a steward to pick them up without needing to disturb them, they sat on the beds and more delicate subjects were discussed. Jon told him he considered marrying Princess Daenerys. Getting very embarrassed when he confessed he had fallen head over heels in love with her. He asked Gendry to keep it to himself for now. Gendry touched by the trust Jon put him in of course promised to keep silent and wished Jon the best of luck. 

A bit later the conversation got more serious. He told Gendry all about Robb’s ordeal and held nothing back. He thought it wise that Gendry should be prepared if ever he faced a moody Robb or witnessed him loose his temper over a small matter. The five of them had made a pact to help each other no matter what. Gendry had need of this information to help Robb if it ever became necessary. 

“And what will happen to Theon the cockless Kraken?” Gendry asked. He had never met the Ironborn but all the stories he had heard had not endeared him to the man.

“For now he is living in the old Tower and is only allowed to go outside to catch some fresh air for a short period once a day under armed escort. His fate will depend on future relations with his sister Yara Greyjoy who is our ally. I already told you that when I leave the Wall, I will be travelling to Pyke to help her regain her ancestral seat.”

“Does that mean he might be returned to his sister and will not face punishment?”

“Gendry, he has been punished severely already. I mentioned he was tortured by Ramsay Snow. Perhaps I should have added that he has been broken not only physically but mentally as well. He has not admitted to being Theon Greyjoy once. He calls himself Reek. Speaks only in the third person about himself and cowers all the time. He never looks you in the eye and shrinks at the tiniest movement or sound. Perhaps his sister will be the only one who can get him to realise he is Theon Greyjoy instead of Reek, a pet of Ramsay Snow, to be used and abused at his masters behest. He acts like a dog, eating and drinking from a bowl on the ground using only his mouth. I have never seen anything like it. It is a horrifying sight.”

“And here I thought you felt sorry just because he is a man without a cock for the rest of his life.”

“That also, Gendry. But for now that is not his biggest issue. I hardly think he realises he is missing that part in his current state.”

“I wonder how he passes his water.” Gendry halted when he saw Jon’s strange look. “I am sorry. My mouth often runs away with my thoughts. Forget I mentioned it.”

“If we decide to let Theon Greyjoy return to his sister, he will be formally exiled from Westeros. Forbidden to set foot anywhere except on Pyke. If he is captured somewhere else, he will be beheaded without a trial or chance for appeal and his sister will face repercussions still to be determined. He betrayed House Stark. Everything will depend on how Yara Greyjoy will react to her brother’s betrayal. If she does not want anything to do with him any longer, Theon Greyjoy will be kept at Winterfell until he is sound of mind enough to choose between a chance to redeem himself at the Wall or the death sentence.”

“That I can understand at least.” Gendry nodded his head in approval.

“You haven’t seen him, Gendry. That makes all the difference. I was all for taking his head for betraying Robb until I saw him and realised what Snow did to him. The time I spent watching him behave like a dog on the road between the Dreadfort and Winterfell changed my mind. Before that, I would never have even contemplated exiling him and letting him live even if it was as a virtual prisoner in his ancestral home with his kin.”

“That does make me feel better.” Gendry replied. “I was starting to think I was being unreasonable but couldn’t deny feeling he needed a harsh and lasting punishment.

“Let’s not spend the time we have together talking about Theon Greyjoy.” Jon proposed.

“Well, I hesitate to ask, but what will happen to Domeric Bolton? He was a big help in freeing Robb. Without him, perhaps they could have used Robb against you and you would have been forced to negotiate with these vile Boltons.”

Jon debated what to tell him. He opted not to reveal Robb’s drastic words and the trouble he and Uncle Benjen had gone through to persuade him that the young Lord had played no part in his ordeal. Robb had questioned how instrumental Domeric Bolton could really have been in his rescue when Jon had flown in with two big dragons to save the day. Robb had even accused the Bolton heir of having been in league with Ramsay Snow and his pretending to help had only been a part of one of Ramsay’s sick schemes. Jon decided to keep his answer to Gendry brief for now.

“I was able to persuade Robb and my uncle to grant him a trial period to prove himself and those who follow him to be loyal to House Stark and my cause. I asked him to send support to the Wall as a first gesture. We advised him to contemplate changing his sigil but to wait for that until the political situation is more stable.”

“A prudent way to say you intend to shove my father from the throne.” Gendry remarked.

“I’m sorry Gendry.” 

Jon was taken aback by Gendry’s statement. But once more he had read Gendry wrong. His friend shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t be. I told you a hundred times already, I do not consider that man my father. Hells, I have known Davos Seaworth for no more than six moons and he already is more of a father to me than that Baratheon King will ever be.”

“As long as you are willing to share him with me, cousin.” Jon smiled. “I have need of him also. I greatly miss him.”

“Jon, you cannot claim them all. You have your uncle Benjen. I saw you two together remember? If ever you needed to choose a father...” His voice trailed off. 

“You have me there, Gendry. But that doesn’t mean I can’t vie for the attention of Davos as well. I am sure his heart is big enough to embrace the both of us. I am willing to share him, since you ask so nicely.” 

“I envy you Jon. You can fly anywhere anytime and see everyone, however far they are. I can only dream about all the places you have visited this last moon alone.”

Jon left his cot and sat next to Gendry. “You will visit Dragonstone and the Driftmark. It will only take you a bit longer to get there but you’ll see it eventually. At least I hope you will be coming South with me once we have concluded our business here.”

Gendry looked at him and seemed a bit hesitant. “I had set my sight on seeing Winterfell before going south.” He confessed his voice no more than a whisper.

“Winterfell is south of here. You could stop there and set sail from White Harbour.” Jon encouraged him.

“And bring the presents myself?” Gendry asked a hopeful expression on his face now.

“That spares me a trip.” Jon amended his future plans in his head. He yawned.

“Perhaps we should call it a night? I have to get up early tomorrow morning.” Gendry offered seeing Jon was tired.

“Yeah, we should since I’ll be coming with you. Perhaps you can put me to work?” Jon stood up stretched his arms above his head and bent himself in several directions. 

“I am getting stiff from too little movement it seems. Perhaps you need someone to do some heavy lifting?” Jon sat back down on his own cot.

“That won’t be a problem. You will be sorry you asked.” Gendry warned him.

“Well do your worst.” Jon remarked drily. “You have until noon. After luncheon I have a meeting scheduled with the garrison commander and then I intend to visit my ships that are stationed here. See how the crew is holding up.”

“Night Jon,” was the only reply Gendry gave him as his friend blew out the candle.

“Night Gendry.” Both young men fell asleep soon after.

 

***

 

Jon had been counting and reorganising the different weapons in the armoury as he called the large barrack and was only halfway through his inventory when Stokeworth came running up stating a message had arrived from the capital. He held it out so Jon could take it. It bore the Stark direwolf and was marked personal for the eyes of the Prince only.

Jon immediately opened it and blanched as he read it. He couldn’t believe what it said. Lord Beric Dondarrion burned alive. Edric Storm, a half-brother of Gendry he realised, also burned alive. Several smallfolk and even small children burned alive. All by Stannis Baratheon, Gendry’s uncle by blood. You didn’t need to have the Targaryen madness to burn people alive. A religious fanatic could do it as well it seemed.

Prince Stannis even refused to obey his brother, his King. They suspected that he was amassing a force around him since he had recalled several bannermen from the capital back to the Stormlands. Varys and Lord Stark were worried what would happen if the King learned of it. Hells, Jon was more worried how Prince Stannis would react when Jon claimed the throne. Stannis was a wildcard and a dangerous opponent. One whose moves could not be predicted in the least. 

The only silver lining was that the red priest Thoros of Myr had been able to save all Varys’ young birds and the Princess Shireen. What parent would consent to have his daughter burned? Perhaps he should conquer the Stormlands by fire and blood and be done with it. Jon took a deep breath. He needed to calm down before making terrible decisions.

He sealed the scroll and put it in his pocket. When he looked up he noticed several eyes were staring at him.

“Jon, what is it? You look awful.” Gendry walked over to him. “At least sit down. I’ll pour you a glass of water.”

“Gendry, sit down with me for a second will you. This news might affect you as well.”

“Shall we leave you my Prince?” Stokeworth asked. He had brought the scroll and Rykker was present in the workshop as well since he was the one guarding Jon that morning.

“No, you might as well hear this. It concerns Stannis Baratheon.” Jon gave them a brief overview of the situation in the Stormlands and tried to soften the blow somewhat for Gendry.

His friend however repeated once more not to have any affinity with the family who never acknowledged him anyway and now he was even gladder they hadn’t. “I could have been burned alongside this Edric Storm. I do not feel a kinship with the Baratheon brothers, I call dibs on Davos.” Gendry tried to lighten Jon’s worries by adding that last statement.

“Share, Gendry, share.” Jon said relieved Gendry took the news so well. “Lord Varys and my Uncle, Eddard Stark are trying to find other possible bastards of the King and will do everything in their power to guarantee their safety. I am glad you are so far from the Stormlands for now and that neither the King nor his brother is aware of your existence.

Stokeworth and Rykker needed to be given some explanation. They hadn’t known anything about Robert Baratheon siring Gendry. 

“Don’t tell the others.” Gendry ordered. “I do not want to have it known I am the bastard son and nephew of such cruel, vile men. The Seven Pointed Star has it all wrong. The vile blood is not in the children, it is in the father’s committing the sin.”

“No words could be truer,” Jon affirmed. “That is one of the reforms I intend to instigate. Fathers who sire bastards will be fined and blamed. The children will reap the benefits from the fine and will be given a loving foster home. They will be allowed to choose which name they bear, that of their father or of their mother. No more bastard names.” He paused. “Or perhaps I should instate bastard names for the fathers who refuse to pay for the upkeep of the child.”

“That won’t make you popular, my Prince. Better wait until your Kingdoms are at peace before issuing such radical changes.” Rykker remarked then blushed when he realised he had meddled in his Prince’s affairs. 

“So my advisers told me already. I will not decide this while angry and if anything is instigated it will be in phases. Not everything at once. I’d start with the father being forced to provide for the upkeep of his bastard. But those are matters for the future. I intend to deal with the situation here first. Stokeworth, can you ask the garrison commander where we are to meet this afternoon? I intend to take stock of the situation here and learn what he knows about the collaboration with the encampment at Hardhome.”

“I’ll see to it, my Prince.”

 

***

 

Later that afternoon there was a commotion at the gates. The guards were gathering their weapons ready to defend their position when the dragons came flying overhead and intimidated them to keep their distance from the gate. Jon came running out of the building. 

“Stand down everyone, I’ll open the gates.”

“But, but there is a giant direwolf at the other side, ready to attack us.” One guard stammered.

“It will not attack anyone. Ghost has come because I asked him to. He is my direwolf. I have one, just as all the Stark siblings have one. Surely you must have heard about them?” Jon explained while he approached the gate. He had felt Rhaegal’s protectiveness and when he had connected with his dragon he had instantly known that Ghost was at the gates.

The men all retreated when he pushed the large gate to open just wide enough for the direwolf to enter. Ghost immediately jumped Jon and gave him his normal enthusiastic rather wet greeting.  
The dragons screeched one more time and returned to their spot on the beach where they usually settled down when it was time to rest. 

He took some time but eventually the men were convinced the large white wolf with the red eyes posed no threat. The dragon Prince assured them he was one more asset in the fight against the dead. Life at Eastwatch resumed its normal pace once more.

That night, Jon abandoned Gendry and spent the night on the beach with his dragons and Ghost. Rhaegal and Viserion needed reassurance that their stay in the North was only temporary and the sooner the creepy enemy was defeated, the sooner they would head back to the green cliffs of Dragonstone to stay. Jon once more persuaded them that he too preferred to live on Dragonstone but that they had a duty to fulfil first.

 

***

 

Jon spent three days at Eastwatch. He was satisfied with all he had witnessed and learned. The garrison commander had a clear strategy and all tasks were assigned to a large force that would march to Hardhome as soon as they got the word that the enemy was certain to strike there. Dragonglass weapons were on their way and he was willing to work together with Sandor, the spokesperson of the Free Folk. If reinforcements from the Northern Houses arrived he would give them the long letter with instructions Jon had left behind.

Jon had met with most of the crew members of his ships. The sailors alternated nights on their vessels and here at Eastwatch. The garrison commander was a clever man. When he had been approached by a delegation and had been requested to provide some accommodations, he had given the sailors free use of some dilapidated barracks, stating they could use them if in return they put them in better shape. 

The crewmembers had been happy to oblige. They did not mind having to work a bit for warm accommodations at night. They had been started to grow bored anyway. And even though the fleet had arrived with only the minimal crew necessary to navigate the ships, there were fifty ships present so plenty of hands available to have the barracks in a better state in not time. Jon warned the captains it would not be long now before they needed to move the fleet closer to Hardhome.

Before flying to the Free Folk settlement of Mance Rayder, Jon spent some time with Gendry and Ghost. When both were well used to each other, he gently broke the news that Ghost needed to stay with Gendry until Jon returned. Gendry was honoured, Ghost resigned. He accompanied Jon to the beach and looked forlorn when Jon took off.

 

***

 

**Interlude 28: More Ravens**

 

_To Hoster of House Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident, Lord of Riverrun_  
_Lord Tully,_  
_I still await your response to the generous terms of my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters, will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now. I await your answer with impatience._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

 

***

 

_To Jon Celtigar_  
_We praise the Gods and I am ordered on your uncle’s behalf to thank you for Robb Stark’s timely rescue. Rumours have increased a hundredfold. Until now however King Robert remains oblivious. Prince Quentyn arrived home and was properly chastised. Both ships carrying resp. Prince Oberyn and your Hand are on schedule. In the Westerlands, the Lannisters have struck gold again. King Robert is furious at Prince Stannis for burning his bastard. He is still debating which measures to take. We are doing our utmost to keep him from outright declaring war on his brother. Princess Shireen will stay in the capital as his ward. We fear for the safety of her mother. Lady Olenna is still stalling. No betrothals to announce as yet. Your uncle and the King seem on very good terms. Preparations for the tournament are coming along. You were right about bet. The horse in question still belongs to King Robert. Good call!_  
_Look forward to meeting you on Dragonstone once more as soon as I receive word of your safe arrival._  
_Varys, Master of Whisperers of the Seven Kingdoms but only loyal to the true King_

 

***

 

_To Walder of House Frey, Lord of the Crossing_  
_Lord Frey,_  
_King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, is willing to consider your offer. I formally ask you to send several eligible maidens to King’s Landing in three moons time. The King will choose two amongst them to get better acquainted with. If no betrothal ensues, both maidens will be given a noble husband and the King will attend their wedding feasts as the most prominent guest of honour. We expect the annulment to be final in a little over two moons. Your kin should not arrive too long before that date. I will keep you informed. Please send all correspondence in this regard to me and not to the Hand of the King._  
_Varys,_  
_Member of the Small Council and Master of Whisperers of King Robert I Baratheon_

 

***

 

_To Jon Celtigar_  
_My Prince,_  
_Thanks for your swift message. We were all much relieved. I took duly note of the changes in your Kingsguard. We will have to discuss particulars next I see you. We are all sorry to see Clegane go. Our preparations here are ongoing. The men are training hard and every able male or female on Dragonstone is contributing to your cause in some fashion. The Princess told me she has kept you briefed on the armour, banners and sails production. I can report another hundred Targaryen loyalists have arrived in King’s Landing. A strange report reached our ears. Some Lords of the Stormlands are being called home from the capital. Those loyal to us are stalling their departure and ask us for advice. House Dayne sent word that approximately two hundred men who live near Starfall are travelling to the capital as we speak. They do so under the pretext of attending the tournament. Varys reports ships carrying your Hand and company are on schedule. We are counting the days until your return. Take care on the Iron Islands and stay safe my Prince. Everyone here sends their regards._  
_Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of the True King’s Kingsguard._

_P.S. Sam asked me to write to you that the sapling has taken root and is producing new leaves._

 

***

 

_To Prince Doran Nymeros of House Martell, Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear_  
_Prince Doran,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

 

***

 

_To Jon Celtigar (destination to Castle Black)_  
_Have urgent, important information to discuss with you personally. Can you come visit my humble abode soon? Please answer on receipt. I sent similar messages to Winterfell and Eastwatch._  
_Your foster-father,_  
_Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch_

_***_

_Messages forwarded from the Citadel to Samwell Tarly residing on Dragonstone_  
_Lord Tarly, please find enclosed a message from your Lord Father._  
_Archmaester Ebrose_

___To Samwell Tarly, apprentice at the Citadel_  
_Son,_  
_I have not heard from you in a while. I am most displeased with you. You could have said your Night’s Watch vows before deciding to start your studies. I did not enjoy receiving an unexpected message from the Warden of the North. Your brother would never put me in such a predicament._  
_Since you have sailed the Narrow Sea and have apparently visited the North, I order you to write me this instant what you know is behind the rumours of dragons existing once more. Do not disappoint me again son. You are not beyond my reach. I can still decide to enforce the other punishment we discussed._  
_Lord Randyll of House Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill_  
_General of the armies of the Reach_

_***_

_To Mace of House Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Warden of the South_  
_Lord Tyrell,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

_***_

_To Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen_  
_Dany,_  
_Thanks for your letter. It was a joy to read it. It seems you are doing a tremendous job. You will have heard by now that Robb is mostly okay and that I have reached Eastwatch, the Free Folk settlement and Castle Black safely. Things are proceeding according to plan. If all goes well, I plan on returning to Dragonstone a few days after Davos and Ser Arthur arrive. That way I no longer need to content myself with only seeing you in my dreams every night. I have taken a big step closer to our personal goal. Keep faith!_  
_I keep this brief since I want to tell you the rest when I look into your beautiful eyes. I will not be long now. See you soon_.  
_Aegon_

_***_

___To Lady Olenna of House Tyrell_  
_Grandmother,_  
_I have left Winterfell and am currently travelling to Highgarden. I am taking the Kingsroad to the Riverlands and will board a ship at Seagard. Loras is staying in the North for now. You should receive a letter from him soon. I learned a lot of things in the North but nothing I can put into writing. I strongly urge you to consider betrothing Margaery to Lord Robb of House Stark. Things are afoot. House Stark is the safest choice you can make right now. Whatever you decide, do not give her away to House Baratheon. I will tell you more once I reach Highgarden. I wish you good health, Grandmother._  
_Your grandson,_  
_Willas of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden_

_***_

_To Robert of House Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East_  
_Lord Arryn,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

_***_

_To Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, Kingsguard to the true King_  
_Brother,_  
_Good tidings! We will see each other soon. Lord Stark arranged for permission for our house to visit King’s Landing. I will of course stop at Dragonstone first. Eddard Stark pointed out that since Prince Rhaegar has been absolved of the kidnapping and rape, the rivalry between the royal court and the Targaryen loyalists has lost much of its meaning. House Dayne is no longer persona non grata in the capital. Eddard Stark did warn us not to betray you are alive and in Westeros yet._  
_Count the days my brother. A loyal messenger will deliver this message to your island. I won’t be far behind. See you soon. Everyone here at Starfall sends his greetings._  
_Your loving sister,_  
_Ashara of House Dayne_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the East_  
_Lord Lannister,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__

__***_ _

__

___To Robb of House Stark, heir of Winterfell, temporary regent of the North_  
_Son,_  
_Thanks to the Gods and thanks to your cousin for bringing you home safely. I heard you were mostly all right. I wish you a swift recovery. I can allow you to involve Rodrik Cassel in business and household decisions directly connected to Winterfell. As for your duties of Warden of the North, I prefer you would write to me if you are unsure on how to proceed. I trust in you, son. Now you trust in yourself._  
_I had tea with Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. She impressed me. She is well-mannered, seems intelligent and looks healthy enough to give you many sons. Enclosed I send you a drawing. I ask you to send one of yourself in return. Negotiations are ongoing but things are progressing favourably. She seems worthy of you son. Hope to be in Winterfell in a few moons. Give my regards to your mother and siblings. I will write them soon,_  
_Your father, Eddard of House Stark,_  
_Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North_

__***_ _

_To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North_  
_Lord Stark,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now_.  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

_To Olenna of House Tyrell_  
_Grandmother,_  
_I trust you are well. I will stay in the North for now. I am healthy and happy and have found a noble cause. One day you will be very proud of the choices I am making now. I have sworn my sword to Lord Celtigar. His name is not important. His cause is. For now, all I can tell you is that he is a very influential Lord who has Lord Stark’s ear and can count on the friendship of many, many great houses. My alliance with him will go a long way to secure the position of our house for the next generations. Rest assured, despite appearances, I have the best interests of our house in mind. Soon all will be clear. Do not worry about me and keep well, Grandmother._  
_Your loyal grandson,_  
_Loras of House Tyrell_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Wyman of House Manderly, Lord of White Harbour, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander_  
_Lord Manderly,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters, will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

_***_

_To Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers (seal marked for his eyes only)_  
_Please find enclosed a sealed message for my uncle regarding a private family matter._

___To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (seal marked for his eyes only)_  
_Uncle,_  
_Thank you so very much. I just learned the weirwood sapling has taken root and has started to grow new leaves. Soon I will have my own sacred sanctuary on Dragonstone. It means a lot to me, Uncle. I will mention you in my prayers each time I visit this first Targaryen Godswood._  
_I do not want any misunderstanding between us. The matter I am about to mention is yours to decide and yours alone. As a father, the head of House Stark and Warden of the North you can betroth Sansa to strengthen the position of your House. I only pray you do not betroth Lady Sansa for the sole motivation of advancing my cause. If that is your intent, please consult with me first. If any cousin of mine needs to further my cause, I want to at least share in the responsibility of the decision._  
_I am aware of the request my friend Edric of House Dayne sent to you. I can only vouch for his worth as a decent human being and a loyal friend who will rise to an influential position in the Seven Kingdoms in my service. I will take no further steps to influence your answer to Lord Dayne’s request. I will only add that Lady Sansa is still young and you need not hurry this decision._  
_Your nephew,_  
_Jon_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Roose of House Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort,_  
_Lord Bolton,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

_____To Eddard of House Stark, Hand of King Robert I Baratheon, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (seal marked for his eyes only)_  
_Lord Stark,_  
_Can you give me a progress report? Myrcella is of an age to marry. When can I expect further assistance in this regard? Or should I ask the dragonrider (R &L’s offspring) directly? Perhaps we can meet soon? Us Lannisters always pay our debts. Do you always keep your promises, Lord Hand?_  
_Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the East_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Randyll of House Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill,_  
_Lord Tarly,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

_____To Jon Celtigar_  
_Heard attack went well. Rumour mill is working. I do not know whether you heard. The Golden Company conquered the Ironborn in less than half a day! Thanks. Have been approached anonymously for price offer to assist in fight against royal forces in Westeros. Have sent exorbitant offer and reckon nothing will come of it. Will try to find out who sent it. Suspect Euron Greyjoy but am not sure. Perhaps your spies can look into it at your end? Will keep you informed._  
_Strickland_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Yohn of House Royce, Lord of Runestone,_  
_Lord Royce,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

_Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers, King’s Landing_  
_Enclosed scroll for Lord X (for his eyes only)_

_We shipped another batch as agreed: half to Dragonstone, half to Winterfell. Mining activities on the other end have intensified. Our position may be compromised soon. Chances are we will need to close shop. I will send a messenger with more details soon._  
_Stout_

__***_ _

___To Leyton of House Hightower, Lord of the Port, Lord of the Hightower, Voice of Oldtown, Defender of the Citadel, Beacon of the South, /em >_  
_Lord Hightower,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

_To Gendry at Eastwatch_  
_Jon told me you are doing well at Eastwatch. A seventeen nameday’s young boy that is leading an entire workshop kitchen of apprentices, that must be a sight to see. I am sorry to hear the soup was not to your liking. If you cannot make the soup cooler then we are stuck for now. The only thing we learned is that one tenth of vegetables gives the weakest flavour. I’ll keep doing research. I heard Edric and Loras might be coming your way soon. I miss you all. Keep well,_  
_Samwell of House Tarly_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Euron of House Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke_  
_Lord Greyjoy,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Jon Celtigar,_  
_No reinforcements spotted. No countermeasures for dragons either. Only minimal forces stationed on Pyke. My uncle is still rumoured to be sailing along the east coast. We will move our forces to Great Wyk the day before the attack. Three ships are disguised as ships belonging to the Golden Company fleet. They will lead the convoy. You will find us hiding in a bay ready to sail for Pyke. See you there the day after the full moon._  
_Yara of House Greyjoy, future ruler of the Iron Islands_

__

__***_ _

__

___To Jon Celtigar (stamp marked for his eyes only)_  
_Weapons arrived in good order. Rayder is grateful. All quiet here but dead cunts are headed for Eastwatch. Will be waiting for you there. Fucking hope you will come back soon. Forget the conquer all of Westeros plan for now. Fuck this code._  
_Sandor of the Free Folk_

__

__***_ _

__

_____To Jonos of House Bracken, Lord of Stone Hedge_  
_Lord Bracken,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now._  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

__

___ _

___***_ _ _

_To Prince Oberyn of House Martell_

_Brother,_  
_My son has finally returned. Pirates released him upon his union to one of their whores. Of course this marriage is null and void. Dorne will have yet another Sand with Martell blood since the cursed woman is pregnant._

_King Robert asked my daughter’s attendance at court and considers her amongst many others as a candidate to become his new Queen. Your recent messages have made me uncertain. Can you be more specific as to why we should not try to worm ourselves back into power this way? The next King could be half Dornish. Your letters are always full of strong recommendations but without proper motivation. You recent reports have been more frustrating than ever before, brother. I expect a raven with concrete information as soon as you arrive in the capital. Don’t delay._  
_Doran of House Martell,_  
_Prince of Dorne, Lord of Sunspear._

___ _

___***_ _ _

___ _

_____To Tytos of House Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall_  
_Lord Blackwood,_  
_I have not heard back from you about my betrothal proposal. In three moons time several of my daughters and granddaughters will be in the capital where plenty of suitors are gathering for the tournament. Even though I have plenty more maiden daughters and granddaughters to choose from, keep in mind that first come is first serve. The conditions of my offer remain unchanged for now_.  
_Walder of House Frey_  
_Lord of the Crossing_

___ _

___***_ _ _

___ _

___To Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of an errant Prince._  
_I am about to leave the Free Folk settlement and head for Castle Black. Expect battle at Hardhome in moon and a half at the latest. I will return to Dragonstone to discuss tactics first. Sandor is adapting to his new life. I saw him stoke a fire and I even received a short hug. More to come._  
_Jon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon travels on to the Free Folk settlement and Castle Black where he will meet Prince Renly and Jaime Lannister.


	29. Awkward meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets Sandor, Prince Renly and Jaime Lannister to name a few.  
> In the interlude he visits Greywater Watch once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy a new chapter proofread as always by the ever diligent Ravenousreadr. Thanks my friend.

*

Jon received an even warmer welcome at the Free Folk settlement than he had gotten at Eastwatch. Tormund as always reached him first and hugged him within an inch of his life. Jon however was more amazed by the greeting he received from Sandor. The man enveloped him in a brief hug, looking a bit embarrassed but doing it all the same.

“Nice to see you, boy.” He said his cheeks slightly red, quickly releasing Jon.

“Nice to see you too, Sandor.” Jon reciprocated the greeting and looked him over. Gone was the shabby costume Sandor always wore. He blended in with the Free Folk, wearing white and grey furs. He even carried a bow on his back. At first sight, the only items he had kept from his former attire were his boots and his belt securing his familiar weapons. More importantly, he looked at ease once the initial embarrassment from the greeting had subsided. Jon had gotten used to the grim expression Sandor usually sported but now the man looked … happy. 

“My you are looking well. I see I don’t have to ask whether you are having second thoughts.” Jon voiced his approval.

“Not in a thousand fucking years.” Sandor exclaimed. “My wife wants to meet you as well. Perhaps later? She is out hunting right now.”

“Of course. I look forward to it.” Jon promised him readily.

“Dragonrider, come with me.” Tormund apparently jealous of the attention Sandor was getting wormed himself between the two of them. “Mance will want to see you, I am sure.” He all but pulled Jon away from the large group that had come out to welcome the dragonrider.

Jon smiled and waved at everyone before following Tormund who led the way with big strides.  
“Is this the way to Mance Rayder’s tent?” Jon asked perplexed at the direction and speed with which Tormund was leading him away from the encampment.

“No, it isn’t. I have to show you something first. He arrived at a tent that stood a bit secluded from the others and motioned for Jon to enter.

A redhead was seated inside with a small baby in her arms. “Meet my newest son, Dragonrider!” Tormund’s loud voice startled the small baby and it started to cry. 

Tormund just laughed and plucked the baby from his new wife’s arms. “Come here son. Not every day a Dragonrider and future southern King comes to visit you.” And without further ado he placed the squirming bundle in Jon’s arms adding, “That is if you have not become the actual King in the short time you were away.”

Jon didn’t reply straight away. He awkwardly moved the small baby in a more comfortable position in his arms. “Hey there little one. You shouldn’t cry with such fine, strong parents to look after you. You’ll be big as your father in no time.” 

He rocked the child gently up and down until it stopped crying and its tiny fingers grasped for Jon’s curls. Jon lowered his head a bit to give the baby the opportunity to reach one of his locks.  
“Still no King yet, just a Prince. Congratulations Tormund and uh.”

“Myra, this is Myra. When she fell pregnant we decided to claim each other.” Tormund helped Jon out.

“Congratulations, Myra. It is a beautiful boy you have here. And he looks healthy and strong already. What do you call him?” He smiled at her.

“Thank you, Dragonrider.” Myra answered keeping her eyes on her child that was trying to pull one of Jon’s curls into its mouth now. “He doesn’t have a name yet.” 

Oh, he has just been born then. How many days ago?” Jon started to ask her, untangling his hair from the baby’s tiny fist.

Myra opened her mouth to answer but Tormund interrupted them with his loud voice.

“Fine pair of lungs for one born only a sennight ago, don’t you think? He thumped Jon on the shoulder and Jon had to steady himself not to startle to baby too much. 

“The Free Folk don’t name their children before they are around two years old, my friend.”

Jon looked up a puzzled look on his face. “How do you refer to him then in conversation or when you need to address him?”

“Easily enough, everybody knows the son of Giantsbane. But the wife,” he looked at Myra with a tender look, “she likes to refer to him as Red Junior for now. I kinda like it.”

Myra took her eyes of her son to return Tormund’s smile.

Jon still holding the baby who was making adorable cooing sounds looked at Tormund for a clue as to what to do next. 

Tormund apparently satisfied with the outcome of the visit promptly took his baby son from Jon’s arms, put it in his young wife’s arms again and motioned to the opening in the tent. “After you, Dragonrider. Our King beyond the Wall awaits you.”

Jon smiled apologetically to Myra, stroked the baby’s cheek with his thumb one last time and followed Tormund out.

“How come you never told me before?” He asked Tormund wondering about the strange customs of the Free Folk. As far as he knew, Tormund had fucked a lot of women the last time Jon visited but apparently the man had claimed this one now. He wondered what his friend would have done if several had fallen pregnant at once?

“I did not want to pressure the Gods, Southern King. My first wife died in childbirth and I lost the child she carried as well. If I had told you, chances were I would have had to explain that I lost another child. A man avoids that if it is possible.” Tormund was very matter of fact about it.

“All right. But didn’t you, I mean when you spent all these evenings with Clegane, didn’t you uh,” Jon was looking for a term that wouldn’t sound offensive but Tormund beat him to it.

“I fucked several willing women, Dragonrider. But they knew I would claim Myra if she birthed a living child. Us Free Folk know how to take our pleasure without siring children.” He thumped Jon’s shoulder again. “Don’t you worry your virgin brain. I claimed her and will be faithful to her now we share a living child.”

“I am not uh,” Jon tried to explain but once more Tormund interrupted him.

“If you are not, then you sure as hell do not have a lot of experience. I could set you up, you know. Sandor is happy enough with Ygritte. Just say the word.” Tormund thumped his shoulder once more. Jon was sure to have a bruise there come morning.

“No thank you. I know you mean well but I sort of have a girl waiting for me in the South.” Jon blushed feeling like a green boy compared to Tormund.

“A Southern woman! I hope she has enough temperament to satisfy you. What a waste.” Tormund shook his head. “Sure you don’t want to learn the difference. You are not claimed yet if it is just ‘sort of’. Tormund’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Look who is prejudiced now. Have you even met a single southern woman?” Jon countered although he felt his cheeks were still burning red from embarrassment. “Wait until you meet my dragon Princess, then you will be the one green with envy.” 

“All right, all right, take it easy. I’ll wait until I see the two of you, you know, interact?” Tormund’s facial expression and accompanying gesture said more than a thousand words.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Jon muttered to himself but heard Tormund laugh beside him. 

“Come on little dragonlover, let’s not keep our King waiting any longer than necessary.

 

***

 

His conversation with Mance Rayder had been pretty straightforward. Orell had been present and was visibly relieved to see Jon the Skinchanger return. The warg told him some the latest scouting news. The enemy had split up. Half had retreated further North to where Orell couldn’t follow for some reason. Perhaps Jon might want to give it a try? The others were slowly moving south carrying a few rafts. They had only started out two days ago and did not seem in a hurry. At the rate they were travelling it would take them a moon at least if not a moon and a half to reach the place where they planned to fight them. Unless they changed direction for some reason, the army of the dead were headed for Hardhome or Eastwatch and not for the Free Folk Settlement here or Castle Black. 

Mance was monitoring the situation at Hardhome closely. Messengers were travelling to and from and Orell guided birds there if he was not scouting. The traps they were setting up on the terrain north of Hardhome should lure the army of the dead towards the location the Free Folk had chosen. It was a large clearing far enough from the Hardhome settlement with the sea on one side, a forest they could set afire on the other side and a large frozen lake ideally placed to keep their frontlines separate from the enemy. 

The plan was to lure the enemy on the ice and have the dragons melt the borders so the dead would be trapped on an island of ice. Once they had them cornered, the dead would either fall through the ice when their combined weight would cause the crust of ice to crack or they would be sitting ducks for the dragonglass arrows that would be fired at them and for the dragonfire that Jon’s dragons would be reigning on them as he flew patterns over the lake. There was still time to put in place contingency plans. But first they had to be sure the enemy would stay on course and were indeed headed in the direction of the location they were preparing near Hardhome. 

Jon worried about the rafts Orell had mentioned. The wights he had killed before had all seemed mindless puppets. Carrying rafts meant they had some sort of plan. Perhaps the White Walkers could think and strategize? If that was really the case then they would have to be cautious. If the enemy could make plans and they somehow knew they were about to face dragons and dragonglass, perhaps they could come up with countermeasures. Jon would debate some more on that. For now, he made plans with Orell to scout the next morning.

Mance also explained to him all the progress they had made to secure their own settlement. The traps, the concealed ditches and the battle plans should an attack come to them unexpectedly. Two wagons were on their way to Eastwatch to fetch the promised dragonglass weapons. Mance estimated they would be back here in six days. 

Jon cautioned them not to wander past the enclosures of the settlement without dragonglass weapons. Then Jon handed the King beyond the Wall a fine dagger of dragonglass that Gendry had custom made especially for Mance. The King beyond the Wall cut himself when he found the edges sharper than expected. Tormund took his own dagger out to compare them. The difference was astounding.

“The newly mined material is far superior to the ones we created from the older pieces we melted down.” Jon explained. He turned to Tormund. “You should have taken one from the bag I brought with me from Castle Black the previous time I visited. Don’t worry though. Soon a wagonload will arrive with weapons of the same quality Mance just received. You can have your pick then.”

Shortly after, Tormund left the tent to go back to his new wife. Jon used the opportunity to ask Mance and Orell what the customs were when a couple had a new child. 

“I didn’t know he was about to become a father. I didn’t bring anything. Will he expect a gift?”

“Not necessarily. We do not bring gifts, at least not in the way they do south of the Wall.” Mance smiled at Jon to reassure him. 

“The Free Folk just watch out for each other. If they see someone struggling, they help out. For example, if the mother gets little sleep because the baby cries a lot, the neighbouring women will visit and tell her what a cute baby she has and over the course of the conversation they will plead to be allowed to keep it company for a while. That way the mother gets the needed rest without losing face. If they need extra clothing, someone might ask them if they would be willing to take some items off their hands that their children no longer need since they’ve grown out of them and that are just a burden to keep around. Things like that. We are a proud people. Parents want to prove to the community that they can provide for their own offspring.”

“So Tormund will not expect anything from me? I do not want to offend him by not giving him the attention he is due.” Jon rather liked the ways of the Free Folk. He only asked again because the last thing he wanted to do was offend his friend because of his ignorance.

“Just toast to his new-born son’s health each time you have the opportunity. Tell him such a strong son will bring him good luck and that you will follow his progress with interest. That will be appreciated.” Orell suggested.

“Thanks Orell.” Jon stood up, surmising the interview was at an end. “Could you show me where Sandor Clegane’s tent is, please?”

“Of course. I’ll walk with you.” Orell got up from the ground as well.

“Wait, Jon.” Mance got up and approached him. “Aren’t you wondering whether we kept our word and went back to Craster’s Keep after you left?”

Jon studied Mance. “I didn’t think I needed to.” he replied evenly. “But now you have made me curious. Can you tell me if Craster gave you much trouble?”

“We did as you asked, Dragonrider.” Mance used Jon’s title he had acquired amongst the Free Folk. “We gave the man a choice. Let the women who opted to leave him do so willingly or face our wrath. He reacted as expected. We burned his body afterwards.”

“And the women and children?” Jon asked.

“Their rescuers convinced them to come live with us. There were about twenty five small children included and we have allowed them their own tents. Several of the women have already chosen a man. Most of the men who took part in the rescue mission have found a grateful wife. I foresaw this of course and sent ten single men of all ages on your quest. A few of the women are traumatised and I have ordered the men to leave them alone for now. They know better than to disobey me. They are allowed to go near the women who make overtures and leave the others alone. So far, nobody has reported anything untoward. I even let Orell spy on their tent a few times.”

“I’m grateful, Mance. What of those who are with child or had little children with them?” 

“They were the first ones to find a new husband.” Mance looked at him as if he were dumb. “We cherish new life here north of the Wall, Jon Targaryen. You still need to learn a lot about our ways. Children are precious, they are the promise we will endure at least one generation more.”

“The women who remain single have been given chores and are being integrated in our community though that means. In a few moons most of them will have become true spearwives. They are all very willing to learn how to defend themselves against men. We will teach them our ways. I hope that when they become aware it is left to them to steal a husband, that it will empower them and eventually they too will be ready to start a family. You see, all in all, I was only too happy to accede to your request.”

“Thanks, Mance. No matter your other motives, thanks for saving them when I asked. You are a great ally.” Nodding one last time at Mance Rayder Jon left the tent with Orell at his heels. 

“Sandor seems to be settled in all right.” Jon’s statement was voiced more as a question.

Orell was doing his best to navigate between the tents and guide Jon to his destination without having to stop at every tent because everyone vied for the Dragonrider’s attention. Despite these distractions, his voice sounded sincere when he complimented Clegane. 

“It is amazing how easily he adapted to our ways. He often is the first one to help others out. The children all like his rough way of speaking. They seek him out to learn new words and he never gets offended when they laugh with him. He seems to understand they mean no harm and it is just harmless entertainment for them.” 

“The newest word they learned is ‘twat’.” Orell laughed when he added that last bit.

“I met Sandor when I had celebrated no more than ten namedays. I remember being fascinated by his speech patterns.” Jon reminisced. Both men exchanged smiles.

“And Ygritte,” Jon asked. “What is she like?”

“Ask her yourself” Orell said. “That is our way. We try not to give our opinion of others. Everyone has the right to live his life his own way. That is, as long as you do not harm or hurt others and give as much to the settlement as you take from it. I probably said too much about Clegane already.”

“That is an honest and simple way of living in a community. No wonder Sandor likes it so much here.”

“Well, here is where I leave you. Sandor’s tent is the bigger one on your right. Will I see you around the campfire for supper?” Orell seemed eager to take his leave.

“I think so, unless Sandor has other plans. In that case we will see each other tomorrow morning. Thanks Orell. See you.” Jon smiled and walked in the direction of the tent.

Standing in front of the entrance Jon stopped, debating on how to announce himself. You didn’t just barge in on a newly formed couple. 

“Go on in then.” Jon startled when he heard Clegane’s rough voice. The man stood behind him a twinkle in his eye.

“Nobody to watch your sorry ass, kid? I could have fucking killed you. Didn’t you used to have some damned fine guards? The fucking best in the entire realm at one time?” Sandor mocked him.

“I did. Can’t seem to keep some,” Jon pushed his finger in Clegane’s chest to make his point. “The others can’t keep up with me and my dragons.” 

“I just wanted to take you up on your invitation and get you up to speed with what’s been happening south of the Wall. But most of all I wanted to hear you tell me some more details about your first moon in your new life. You are not that great a correspondent.”

“And about my contacts with Castle Black and Eastwatch, I reckon you will want to know about those too? Let us get inside then and I will tell you all you want to know. Perhaps not fucking all though, I won’t tell you a thing about the actual fucking.” Sandor grinned when he pushed a blushing Jon inside so the young man could greet his wife.

 

***

 

The next morning Ygritte and Tormund walked Jon to the spot where his dragons were waiting for him. Jon had spent a nice evening getting to know Sandor’s wife. She was pretty even though she was not a great beauty. She had a fiery temperament and seemed to have a genuine soft spot for his friend. They seemed very happy, sat close together and touched each other frequently. Some of the gestures were a bit too intimate for Jon, not yet familiar with the uninhibited ways the Free Folk showed affection in their own homes. Within the confines of their tent anything goes, even if they had visitors, Sandor had explained, enjoying Jon’s growing embarrassment when his hand had disappeared under the furs that covered Ygritte’s lower body and Jon could imagine where he was rubbing his wife when the fur shifted a bit in a tell-tale spot. 

And even if she might have flirted a bit with Jon at times, it was all just innocent admiration for a handsome young man and famed Dragonrider. The Free Folk were free in their expressions and not as prudish as southerners were wont to be. And if Jon was not yet used to their ways, he did like most of them. He could bask in the bit of flirting knowing nothing would come of it since Ygritte was entirely devoted to her new husband. Sandor once or twice gestured Jon just to let her be when she was once more giving him adoring looks. All in all they had spent a lovely evening together that ended with Jon promising Ygritte to show her the dragons up close the next morning.

 

***

 

The dragons had given Ygritte and Tormund a small air show when the tree humans neared the clearing where they were set to depart for their scouting mission. Ygritte waved enthusiastically when Jon finally took off. Jon waved back at the couple that watched him leave standing close together. Jon last image of Sandor was with the man’s left arm firmly fixed around Ygritte’s slim waist.

Orell would fly to Eastwatch to deliver a message from Jon to Gendry also containing a few words from Mance Rayder for the Garrison Commander, then he would fly along the coastline to Hardhome to monitor the progress of the defences and traps that were being built. Finally he would fly further north to look for the army that was headed their way. If all went well, Jon would have returned from his mission higher North and would come looking for the marching dead as well. They had agreed to look out for each other there.

Rhaegal and Viserion picked up speed and flew north at an amazing pace. Still it was almost dark when they reached the spot Orell had warned him about. Just as in his vision, Jon could not fly over a certain area. The dragons were reluctant to investigate. He could feel their uneasiness. Experiencing their discomfort made Jon somewhat nauseous. They circled around the barrier once. Rhaegal’s and Viserion’s fire bounced off it. Jon persuaded them to try and fly over it one more time which only succeeded when they flew very high up. Again their dragonfire bounced off of something so they knew for sure the place was protected by a kind of invisible dome. The ominous feeling grew the longer they stayed near it. 

Not able to find a way in, they left the place behind and flew south again to find the other half of the wight army, the part that was on the move. Darkness fell fast however and Jon spotting a large cave, decided to rest and resume scouting in the morning. Only now that his heartbeat and that of his dragons was slowing down, did he realise how strange they all had felt and what a terrifying experience it had been. The dragons were glad their ordeal was over. 

Their findings confirmed a part of Jon’s visions? The area was cordoned off by a magical barrier. The White Walkers had a sanctuary. He had looked for the distinct figure he had seen in his vision but he had not been able to discern anything from the large distance they had been forced to keep. Even his spyglass had not been strong enough to help him spot the detail he had been looking for.

The next morning he quickly completed the last part of his scouting mission. He flew high over the moving enemy and counted the number of White Walkers that accompanied the army of wights. The dead were too numerous so he counted only a fraction of them and then tried to imagine how many times he needed to multiply that number to have a reliable estimate of the amount of wights. He reckoned there were about fifty thousand dead shapes coming towards them, most were human remains but a lot were dead animals. He had never seen anything like it. They were only carrying five large rafts. But more importantly, they were still on course for Hardhome or Eastwatch. He encountered Orell’s eagle in the air and together they flew back to the settlement. Rhaegal and Viserion relaxed, glad to be heading south again and often slowed down to play in the air so Orell’s eagle could keep up. As a consequence they only reached the Free Folk settlement of Mance Rayder just before dusk.

 

That night, Jon wondered about the significance of what he had seen. Of course he had known that White Walkers were magical since they could raise the dead and control them, hundreds or even thousands at the same time. But the place he had seen far north was something else. He was sure very strong magic was needed to create such a strong wide barrier. If the enemy stayed there, how could he ever defeat him? Even if he really was this Prince or whatever Who Was Promised, how could he defeat an enemy he could not get close to? 

The next day he met briefly with Mance and Tormund one last time before his scheduled departure for Castle Black. Since the attack would almost certainly take place on the east coast, Mance promised to send a large contingent of fighters to Hardhome under the leadership of Tormund Giantsbane. They all were a bit discouraged when they heard how many were coming for them. Jon urged the Free Folk once more to stay alert and be prepared to fend off smaller attacks. The enemy had the numbers and could easily send small raiding parties their way without losing much strength. 

When Sandor came out to wave him off, he handed Jon an odd looking pair of mittens. “To keep your hands warm on those fucking flying fire hazards, boy. The wife taught me to knit, it was a concession I needed to make before she was willing to steal me.” He admitted a bit self-conscious. “She didn’t want a husband who couldn’t at least knit simple mittens. This is my third attempt.”

Jon looked them over, impressed now, despite the uneven stitches. “You keep amazing me, Sandor. I hear nothing but praise about you from your new people. Thanks, I’ll cherish them.” He made a show of putting the oversized mittens on. 

“For fuck’s sake, don’t tell Ser Gerold and the others. Them ignorant highborns would never understand.” Sandor cheeks had reddened slightly.

“That is their loss, Sandor. I envy you your life here. Good deeds are recognized. Life is simple and straightforward. People care about each other, not about power or money. And if they don’t like you, you will know exactly why and what to do about it. Let the knights cherish their way of life and you cherish yours.” 

Jon tried to mimic the tentative embrace Sandor had given him when he arrived a few days before. He kept it short and stepped aside. “I’ll see you soon at Hardhome. Don’t let Tormund beat you in the baby department. I expect to be an honorary uncle within twelve moons.”

“It won’t be by lack of fucking trying.” Sandor’s smile now was the happiest Jon had ever seen on the man’s face. Not even when he had introduced Ygritte to him on his first evening. Jon suspected it might be because they already had a little one on the way. Recalling Sandor and Ygritte sitting closely together on the furs in their tent yesterday, Jon was certain Sandor had made the best decision ever. 

Smiling back and touching Sandor’s arm one last time, Jon hurried to the clearing where his dragons were waiting for him.

 

***

 

This time, Jon flew over Castle Black making sure he was spotted. The large gate opened for him before he reached it. Edd Tollet came hurrying over. 

“Welcome, my Prince. We have been expecting you. I must warn you though. Your identity is known by all now. Cotter Pyke has told everyone you are here as protector of the realm and the Watch remains neutral and has no interest in any future plans you might have.” 

“Oh my. What about Prince Renly?” Jon almost regretted coming if it were not for the messages he expected to have arrived here for him and the fact that he was here to make sure that the Night’s Watch took up their role as protector of the Wall and helped the Free Folk defeat the dead that were coming for them. 

“He is taking it better that Jaime Lannister.” Edd Tollet answered.

Jon halted his steps and moved his right hand to the pommel of his sword. “Is it safe for me to walk in there do you think?” He gestured towards the inner courtyard.

“Cotter Pyke has the men firmly in control. Oh, you mean Jaime Lannister. I’m sorry, my Prince. I might have given you the wrong impression. Jaime Lannister is full of remorse. He doesn’t mean you harm. Quite the opposite, he feels he failed your house and would like to get the chance to make amends.”

“Mmmh, I don’t know what to think about that. I will remain vigilant. I plan on staying only one or two nights at the most. Just enough time to inform your Lord Commander of the state of affairs I witnessed at Eastwatch a few days ago and discuss the new movements of the enemy. I hope he will be willing to share some information about the improved defences here and coordinate the support the other castles can lend to the coming attack. I will also need to dedicate some time to read and reply to the messages that will have gathered here for me. Perhaps I might even help warm the ground so it is easier to dig more ditches around the perimeter of Castle Black.” Jon smiled hesitantly. 

“I would like to be present when you brief our Lord Commander about the movements of the army of the dead. I’ll be certain to ask his permission.” Edd Tollet promised him.

By now they had crossed the courtyard and Jon looked at the building where his uncle had lived so many years. He sighed. “I reckon there is nobody living in his quarters yet?”

“There is a temporary Maester on loan from one of the Northern Lords and the healer of Mole’s Town is staying here as well at the moment. But no, nobody lives in his quarters for the moment. You can visit them if you want. Nothing has been touched. Ask the steward to unlock the doors for you if you so desire.”

“Thanks. Perhaps I will. I don’t know yet. Is the room available where I slept before?” 

“Yes, we have seen to it. I’ll ask one of the exiled Targaryen loyalists to assist you. Joran Edgerton probably. I’ll ask the Lord Commander if he can be assigned to your services for a day or two.

“Can you ask when Lord Commander Pyke is willing to meet with me? I’ll be in my room for now. I’ll wait for an escort to wander around the castle just to be sure. I will need to get accustomed to being Aegon Targaryen here at Castle Black. Everything was simpler when I was just Lord Celtigar.”

“Not strictly true.” Edd Tollet countered. “Remember once word got out that you were a dragonrider? I can still picture you fleeing Castle Black.”

“Not my finest hour,” Jon admitted. He had arrived at the door of his room. “Thanks Edd, I appreciate all you are doing for me.”

“No thanks needed, my Prince. I owe you my life.” Edd left the hallway and headed back to the exit.

 

***

Joran Edgerton turned out to be a simple man. He had never met Rhaegar Targaryen personally but his house had always been loyal. He had been sentenced to the Wall because his family had not been able to pay the taxes that were due after the Rebellion. He had been sold to the Wall by his own kin so to speak. He had been worth two years of taxes. 

The man however was an excellent steward. He had brought Jon a hot supper and all the messages that had arrived for him. Most of them turned out to be copies his allies had send to several location so he would be sure to get them. The most information he derived from the scroll Varys had sent him. Jon was glad that Prince Quentyn had received some form of punishment. Still the man better not come close to Princess Daenerys ever again. Jon would never allow him to be present at court once he was King. He wondered if they should bypass Doran Martell and open secret negotiations with Princess Arianne. He would ask Prince Oberyn. Perhaps they could arrange a meeting when Jon was back on Dragonstone. 

The situation in the Stormlands grew more worrisome by the day. It seemed that Prince Stannis was trying to call his banners. Jon wondered what his purpose for that could be. Was he planning a rebellion and intended to seize the throne from his own brother? Would he go north as the Lady Melisandre had asked him to do initially? As far as Jon knew that was no longer the plan.

According to a second scroll from Varys, Thoros of Myr had talked with the Red Priestess about the Prince That Was Promised. That was a strange tale. First Melisandre had been sure Prince Stannis was the chosen one. Now according to Thoros of Myr she prayed that her own child sired by Stannis would turn out to be the One That Was Promised. Visions were not always straightforward. Howland Reed often warned him of the dangers of either wrongly interpreting the visions, or of working towards making them come true so they actually became self-fulfilling prophesies. 

He would gladly give the honour to someone else but his own visions had been crystal clear. Call him whatever you like That Was Promised, but the Gods had shown Jon that it would be up to him to defeat the ultimate White Walker. 

He knew from his vision that the battle they were about to fight close to Hardhome would not be the final one. Things were never easy for him it seemed. It looked like it would still be a while before he could live in peace and find some kind of normal existence. He formulated the message for Lady Brienne, summoning her, Loras and Edric to Eastwatch in a sennight. At least Gendry would be glad with the company. Jon wrote he would be well in time to help prepare last of the traps to lure the dead to the large lake where they had chosen to taken them on.

The scroll from Howland Reed made him slightly uneasy. It seemed the Lord of Greywater Watch had yet had another important vision, one he wanted to discuss with Jon in private. Perhaps he had seen what Jon had seen? Or perhaps he had seen something regarding his dilemma with Dany or his heirs? Jon sent his reply immediately. If he was honest, he really wanted to get Lord Reed’s advice and tutelage. Lord Reed summons gave him an excuse to visit Greywater Watch and ask him for help with his limited greenseeing ability. And if it so happened that his foster-father had seen something embarrassing, he would just have to deal with that. His mind was made up. After helping Yara Greyjoy to take possession of Pyke, he would fly to Greywater Watch before heading to Dragonstone.

It was dark when he finished reading his last messages. Uncle Benjen wrote that Robb was doing better. He was starting to open up and almost every day Uncle Benjen learned new details of what had happened to him at the Dreadfort. It was upon Maester Luwin’s insistence that Uncle Benjen had started to urge Robb to talk about his experiences. According to Winterfell’s Maester, that was the best way for Robb to get better. Face your troubles bit by bit and conquer them. The Maester had warned his uncle to make sure to do it gradually though. Uncle Benjen was proud to report that Robb’s nightmares were becoming less frequent. The dark circles under his eyes were a thing of the past. He still startled easily though but they were working around that. Everyone knew that it was best that Robb Stark always saw them first before they spoke or made a noise.

Jon fell almost asleep reading the latest scroll from Yara Greyjoy describing the final arrangements for the attack and decided to retire. He gathered all the messages and put them in his backpack. He fell asleep almost before his head hit the furs.

 

***

 

Breakfast in the common hall had proved interesting. Cotter Pyke had invited him to sit at the high table. Jon gathered everyone present knew exactly how many spoons of porridge he had eaten. He was glad when the meal was over and he could follow the Lord Commander to his quarters. There they exchanged the necessary information.

Jon tried to focus during the longwinded report of the current strength of the Night’s Watch at each of the forts. After Gendry had left for Eastwatch, Donal Noye, the blacksmith had returned to his armoury duties. The stern man had almost seemed happy upon receiving a wagonload of newly mined volcanic glass and the fact that he had been allowed to return to his forge. Now he was working hard, more motivated than ever and was turning the raw material into the much coveted weapons. Jon’s only contribution to the conversation was to tell him that Gendry had several crates of newly forged weapons set aside for the other manned castles along the Wall and awaited the Lord Commander’s wagons and orders so he could distribute them as Pyke would see fit. After that Cotter Pyke just droned on, this time enumerating all the offers of support from the Northern Lords that came in almost daily now.

When Jon figured the Commander’s monologue was finally winding down, Cotter Pyke addressed his safety at Castle Black. 

“Most of the men are convinced you are our saviour. Edd Tollet certainly did his best to make sure they know how powerful your dragons are. But it only takes one fanatic Baratheon supporter to put your life in danger. Be vigilant, my Prince. Never walk about alone and have your sword with you at all times. I am told you are virtually unbeatable with it.”

“I learned from the best.” Jon stated simply. “However, every man can be defeated. Certainly when he lets his guard down, is tricked or ambushed or faces too many opponents at once. I’ll not venture out after dark and will stay vigilant and see that I am escorted at all times.”

“Then there is the matter of Prince Renly.” Cotter Pyke warned him.

“May I be allowed to talk to him? It might benefit both parties” Jon suggested.

“I’ll see to it that you can meet on neutral ground, both unarmed. We will guard the door.” The Lord Commander was quick to give his assent.

“I’d prefer to do that sooner than later.” Jon remarked. He was actually very curious to meet the brother of King Robert and Prince Stannis. Perhaps one out of three would be a decent human being? Jon was inclined to think so since Loras likes the Prince very much. He would also be able to keep his promise and hand over the rather thick scroll Loras had entrusted him with. 

“Would you be willing to do Jaime Lannister the same courtesy?” Jon startled when Cotter Pyke asked him that. 

“I can’t complain about his dedication to the Night’s Watch.” The Lord Commander defended Lannister’s request. “He is making himself useful training the recruits who have mastered the basic moves of swordplay. Perhaps you should witness a session without his knowledge. You’ll understand what I mean.” 

“If he wants to speak to me, I guess I owe him that. I ambushed him the last time I was here and he answered my questions. I might as well answer his.” Jon was not proud of the conversation he had forced upon Jamie Lannister the only time they had ever met. Even if half of Cotter Pyke’s praise of him was earned, Jaime Lannister had come around rather quickly. Jon still remembered the sullen man in the dark cell and the disdain, no the hatred he had felt for him. Jaime Lannister had more than once crossed his mind, the most conflicting feelings warring within him whenever he considered all the life choices the man had made. He realised he had missed something Cotter Pyke had been saying.

“Sorry, Lord Commander. I was wool-gathering. Would you mind repeating your last sentence?” 

“I asked whether you would mind holding these conversations in the former quarters of Maester Aemon? It is the best place I can think of where you will not be disturbed and where I can conceal the identity of your visitors to the other recruits. I can guarantee you will have absolute discretion there.” 

The Lord Commander waited patiently for Jon to make his decision known. When Jon agreed be it hesitantly, Cotter Pyke promised to send both men over one by one as soon as they had been tracked down.

And so it happened that Jon found himself walking with Edgerton to the Tower where he had spent so many hours when he was twelve. This time it would not be a kind elderly relative he would meet there. Jon steeled himself for these two unconventional meetings.

 

***

 

“What you are actually promising me sounds too good to be true.” Prince Renly sat opposite Jon. Only a small table separated both men. The Baratheon Prince had become a bit more talkative after Jon had told him about his befriending Loras Tyrell and handing him the large scroll with the heavy seal. He was not totally won over yet.

“It is and it is not.” Jon replied honestly. “You would be reinstated as Lord of Storm’s End but you would be forced to proclaim your bastard nephew Gendry, who I will legalise as a trueborn Baratheon, as your heir. If you will not do so willingly, I will issue a royal decree that overrules your wishes on the matter.”

“I will not sire children anyway. With Edric dead, it might be the only option. And he is the son of the King if you speak true. I am still waiting for the catch though.” 

The Prince sat upright in the chair. He had not donned the black attire all the men of the Watch wore. Cotter Pyke had told Jon earlier that the Prince had declined to adhere to the same rules as the other recruits. The Prince also refused to participate in trainings or carry out any duties and insisted on being addressed by his title. He always appealed to his special status as royal liaison.

Jon sighed. He had explained everything already. What more could he say to convince Prince Renly that there was no catch? He had told him that his elder brother would be deposed as King and as punishment for his misdeeds against House Targaryen, Robert Baratheon would lose his birthright. What other punishments would befall his brother Robert would depend on how he acted when faced with a trueborn heir to the Iron throne. His brother, Prince Stannis’ life would be forfeit once he stood trial and was convicted of burning several innocent smallfolk and nobles.

“You will have to swear fealty to me as your true King before witnesses. That is all Prince Renly. You have committed no crime. Loras Tyrell was not raped. He loves you as much as you love him. As I told you before, Loras swore his sword to me and will be a knight in my Kingsguard. He has also become a friend. In my Kingdoms, I will condone couplings between consenting adults never mind the gender. I do not know what else to tell you.”

“And I would be free to leave the Wall as soon as you are crowned King?” The Prince still doubted his good fortune.

“You would be. I can’t promise you a position on my small council or some other position of power yet. I will need to get to know your strengths and preferences. But feel free to discuss possibilities with me once you know what you want and both our circumstances have changed enough for such a topic to become relevant.” Jon kept his tone respectful and his expression neutral. 

His first impression of the Prince was not all that favourable. He wondered what qualities Loras had found to admire in him. To Jon, the man seemed indolent. How could you respect a man not inclined to make an effort, a man who just sat around and let others take care of everything? Mayhap his impression of the Baratheon Prince would improve upon further acquaintance. Jon did not have high hopes though. 

“For now, I just want to return to the Stormlands. I can’t believe Edric Storm was killed. I had grown to like the boy. Not like that.” He added hastily before Jon could misconstrue his words. “He was still a kid. He looked a lot like Robert, like family.” Prince Renly looked a bit forlorn.

“Gendry, I am told is a young Robert lookalike. I am sure you will like him once you get to know him. He is humble, kind and loyal. He must be around my age. I realise he is no replacement for Edric, but at least you have another decent relative who shares your blood.” Jon gave Prince Renly this information trying to get the Prince to warm up to the existence of Gendry. He had his doubts now that his honest hard working loyal friend could strike up a friendship with this snobbish Prince.

“He is a bastard-born though.” Prince Renly commented.

“What of it?” Jon asked making an effort not to sound offended. “Can a child really be held responsible for whether his parents were married or not. You of all people should realise that real life and religious rules don’t always match. I just came back from the true North, I mean the lands north of the Wall. Nobody gets married there. The children are happy, their parents love them and everyone helps and supports his neighbours to survive the harsh environment of lands beyond the Wall where it is practically always winter.”

Jon saw he had Prince Renly’s attention now and continued. “Habits, customs, rules are just tools to help a society to live in some sort of harmony. Trueborn and bastard are just two definitions, two words that have no impact on the intelligence or abilities of a human being. Do not tell me you with your sexual inclinations haven’t questioned the narrow minded views of the Seven Pointed Star at some point in your life.”

“So according to you bastards have as much worth as noble born? The Prince had frowned upon hearing Jon’s last comment.

“If they get the same chances, the same opportunities to learn, I believe so. Not all noble born children succeed in learning to read when at the same time a lowly servants can master the skill without much effort. But we are digressing. I believe I was trying to convince you not to look down on Gendry, Robert’s natural son because of the circumstance of his birth. He is part of my entourage. I consider him a dear friend and he will be legalised soon enough. Just get to know him and we’ll talk again later.”

“What happens if you leave here and get killed before you are crowned and can set me free?” Prince Renly changed the subject back to his own interests.

“Better pray that doesn’t happen.” Jon gave him a wan smile. “I have no intention of letting myself get killed anytime soon. You could raise my chances by convincing the Baratheon supporters here at the Wall that I have your best interests in mind.”

“Can I assure them you will not burn Storm’s End to the ground?” 

“I’ll do my utmost to prevent that. A lot will depend on your brother’s deeds. “Most likely, Prince Stannis’ men will stand down at the first burst of dragonfire. We took the Dreadfort in less time than it takes to roast a pig. And the ugly thing is still standing with barely a scratch on its walls. I promise you, I am not set on destroying your home. It looks more likely your brother will bring the fight to the capital. There are rumours he is intending to lay siege to King’s Landing and claim the iron throne for himself. He has called his banners for some reason.”

“One last question.” Prince Renly demanded. He didn’t see fit to respond to Jon’s last statement.

Jon sighed. The Baratheon Prince was driving a hard bargain. “And that is?”

“You won’t ask me to take up arms against my brothers?” Renly Baratheon’s tone indicated this was non-negotiable.

“I advise you to stay at the Wall until matters are resolved so you can claim neutrality. Once I am King, I will want a public kneeling from you. The realm needs to see you swear fealty to me as the true King before I proclaim you the Lord of Storm’s End again.”

“Fair enough. I wish you good luck. You will need it. Remember _“Ours is the Fury”_ are the words both my brothers live by.” Prince Renly cautioned him.

“I thank you, Prince Renly. I hope next time we meet, it will be under better circumstances.” Jon stood to show the Prince out. This talk had been tougher than he had anticipated. _“Ours is the Fury”_ applied to all three of the Baratheon brothers apparently.

When Renly opened the door, Edgerton handed him his sword. “Shall I send for Jaime Lannister, my Prince?”

“Just give me a moment to gather my thoughts. Or, perhaps I could go to the training yard for a quick sparring session. That will clear my mind a bit.” Jon accepted his sword and fastened the belt around his waist.

“Are you up to the challenge, or can you recommend someone else?” He addressed Joran Edgerton when he stepped into the hallway.

“I challenge you.” 

Jon turned around and stood face to face with Jaime Lannister. 

“I heard you were willing to speak to me.” Jaime Lannister’s expression betrayed nothing at all.  
Jon didn’t see any sign of the remorseful behaviour Cotter Pyke had described to him. Jaime Lannister looked like a cocky spoiled brat as he stood there waiting to see how Jon would respond. The only thing out of place was the black attire instead of the expensive red golden outfit that went with the attitude.

“I was trained by the Sword of the Morning.” Jon answered finally not really knowing what the best course of action was here.

“I was too.” Jaime responded. Then his face softened. “We might both benefit from sparring with a skilled adversary.”

“I can’t always find suitable partners.” Jon admitted, unsure of Lannister’s intent.

“My Prince,” Edgerton intervened, apparently of the opinion Jon’s decision had already been made. “Are you sure this is wise?”

“We will fight with dulled swords and I urge the Prince to put on some protective gear. I give you my word that I will fight fair and adhere to the rules of a training session. It is not a fight to the death, Edgerton, we just intend to spar. At the most, both of us will get a few bruises.” Jaime Lannister was quick to defend his chances to spar with Prince Aegon.

“Your word Lannister?” Edgerton stepped between Jaime and his Prince. Jon couldn’t see his face but was sure the was man using his most stern expression to intimidate his sworn brother.

Lannister lost his patience. “For fuck’s sake, Edgerton. Haven’t I proved my worth yet? I solemnly vow to fight fair and to consider it a training session and nothing more. There you have it. Do not think I will go easy on you the next time I supervise your training in the courtyard.” 

“He is just looking out for me. “Jon intervened. He had made up his mind. “Lannister, just give me time to put on some protective gear. I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

“Let’s go Edgerton.” Jon gave Jaime a curt nod and quickly left the tower where the Maester had his quarters. He crossed the yard with big strides, heading for his own room, Edgerton at his heels. 

 

***

When Jon entered the courtyard, Jaime Lannister was already there. Jon handed the scabbard containing Blackfyre to Edgerton and looked through the stash of training swords for one that resembled his own sword and had the right balance. He tried several swords but was still undecided. 

Jaime Lannister didn’t comment but when he saw Jon had tried them all and still had not chosen one, he approached. 

“Donal Noye might have what you are looking for in the armoury. Perhaps I could have a look at Blackfyre while you make a trip to the armoury?”

Jon hesitated still undecided on how to handle the man. Deciding to grant him the same courtesy he normally would give a skilled sparring partner, he nodded his assent to Edgerton. The armoury was just around the corner. Jon found Donal Noye in the backroom working on some dragonglass daggers. He smiled remembering Gendry standing in the exact same spot last time he was there.

“My Prince,” the blacksmith and armourer of Castle Black bowed respectfully. “I heard of your arrival. How are things?”

“All is well. Gendry sends you his greetings. I see you are familiar with the dragonglass now?”

“Much finer material than that old shit.” Noticing Jon study some training swords and trying out a few, he asked, “Need something?”

“I need to lend a decent training sword, one that bears a resemblance to my sword Blackfyre. I forgot to bring my own training sword. I must have left it at Winterfell.”

Donal Noye went to the other side of the room and lifted the lid of a crate. After rummaging through its content, he approached Jon holding out three swords. “Try these. In my opinion at least one of them might suit you.” 

Jon tried all three, a smile lighting his features. “Excellent. Even though all three are different, they suit me. How did you know?” 

The man might use few words, but Gendry had been right. He knew his trade.

“It is my job to know.” He pointed at one the swords. “Gendry repaired that one.” 

“Thanks, I’ll give these two a try. I’ll make sure to have them returned after my sparring session with Jaime Lannister.” Jon smiled at Noye and turned toward the exit.

“You are taking on Lannister? Wait, I am coming along. Wouldn’t want to miss that. That man knows how to handle a sword. Good luck my Prince. You will need it.”

 

When Jon returned at the training yard, Jaime was sitting on a low wall talking quietly to Edgerton. Blackfyre was back in its scabbard, safely in Edgerton’s custody. 

“Ready when you are, Lannister.” Jon called out carrying two swords with him.

Jaime arched one eyebrow. “Two swords? Are you serious?”

“Getting second thoughts?” Jon remarked keeping a serious expression. If it had been anyone else, he would have used a teasing tone, perhaps accompanied by a challenging smile. He needed to keep his wits together. If he was not careful he might grow to like the man who pushed Bran. 

“We will start with one sword and shield and see how that goes. Perhaps later we might consider sparring with two swords?” He suggested.

“I might be a bit rusty at that.” Jaime admitted. “Haven’t sparred with two swords in a very long time.”

“Are you two going to fight or are you just going to stand yapping like fishwives.” Donal Noye interrupted them. “I have to go back to my forge when it is still light outside.”

Jon nodded at Jaime who took up his sword and a shield. Jon did the same and took his stance.

Both men circled each other, carefully eying every move the other made. Jaime Lannister was the first to attack. Jon parried easily. They repeated that a few times, using this reprieve to warm up their muscles. Jon was the one who indicated it was time to take the fight to another level. He stepped forward and started the first serious attack. Jaime despite being forced to give up ground thwarted each stroke without breaking a sweat. Jon tried to lull him with the same combination a few times before striking at Jaime’s weaker side with clear intent. The former knight however was fast enough to hold off the more forceful swing and pushed Jon backwards with a movement of his shield.

Both men took their stance and started again. This time it was Jaime Lannister who attacked first and forced Jon on the defensive. Jon changed tactics. He used every trick he had learned to dodge and deflect his opponent’s strikes. He only countered the strikes he couldn’t avoid. He used the space of the courtyard to his advantage. At one time he ducked, rolled sideways over his shoulder and landed back on his feet ready to strike at Lannister’s back. The knight somehow managed to jump sideways and turn around to face Jon once more and the fight continued.

They had been at it for some time when Jaime Lannister finally got the first strike in. It happened when an attack of Jon failed and he wasn’t fast enough to deflect Jaime’s counter. Jon acknowledged his defeat with a nod and both men immediately took up their positions once more. 

This time Jon was determined to get the upper hand. Using his shield more instead of dodging the strokes, he exchanged blow for blow keeping close to Jaime Lannister at all times. He saw his opening when his opponent ducked a swing and gave him a low blow and a push with his shield. It was a move that he had learned from Sandor. Jaime lost his balance for a fraction of a moment and needed to place his foot sideways to correct his stance. That was enough for Jon to get him on the defensive. Jon attacked ferociously combining technique, speed and force. He didn’t use his shield since Jaime Lannister had trouble parrying and concentrated on his stroke selection. Soon enough Jon found the final opening. This time he blocked Jaime’s sword with his shield as he trust his own sword under Jaime’s chin before the man could raise his shield. “Yield.”

Jaime, slightly out of breath, lowered shield and sword. “I yield. Well fought. I recognised several combinations I had forgotten about. He trained you well.”

“How about we just practice our technique with the two swords? No real combat, just one of us going through his exercises, while the other just accommodates and parries and then we switch roles.” Jon proposed somewhat out of breath.

“I’m sure you are just indulging me now, but by all means. I told you I was rusty.” Jamie too was using the short reprieve to recuperate a bit.

They ignored the men that had slowly gathered in the courtyard to watch their fight. Both picked up a second sword and left their shields against the Wall. Even though it was not a real fight, their audience was well entertained. It was not often such superior swordsmanship could be witnessed at the Wall. When someone made that remark to Donal Noye, the blacksmith countered.

“Not only at the Wall. Few men in the realm fight like that. Enjoy it while you can.” He turned on his heels and went back to the armoury. Even at the grander tournaments in the capital he had attended in his former life, he had not often seen something akin to what he had witnessed out there. And that was only a training session. Imagine if these two fought with their lives at stake.

 

***

 

“Now did I earn my talk?” Jaime Lannister leaned against the Wall sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

Jon was not doing much better. He looked a Jaime Lannister with a lot more respect now. “Give me a chance to clean up a bit. I’ll have a pitcher of ale at the ready. You know where to find me.” He turned around and headed for his room.

“Well fought, my Prince.” Joran Edgerton remarked. “That was the first time someone got the better of him since he arrived here.”

“Mmmh.” Jon offered no further comment. Jaime Lannister was a conundrum. How could he reconcile the man who pushed Bran from the Tower and fucked his sister with the young knight who saved a city without getting the credit he was due and was one of the best swordfighters he had ever met? He wondered how their talk would go.”

He was back in his great-great-uncle’s former quarters long before Jaime Lannister showed up. He paced around the room, looking at several objects his uncle had cherished while he lived here. Jon preferred to picture his great-great-uncle as he had been when he first visited and not the man on death’s door of his last visit. The edges of his mouth curled slightly upwards when he recalled how he had first been presented with Blackfyre and his eyes wandered to the tile with the chipped corner that marked the secret hiding place. A sudden thought struck him and he quickly warned Edgerton who stood guard in the hallway not to let Jaime enter before he received permission. 

He closed the door once more and kneeled on the floor beside the fireplace. He lifted the tile without needing much force. Another tiny smile ghosted over his face when he remembered how much trouble he had had lifting that tile all those years ago. The space was empty but for a few large scrolls. He quickly pocketed them and put the tile back in its original place. He startled when someone knocked on the door. He brushed the dirt of his pants and seated himself at the table.

“Enter,” He called and waited for Jaime Lannister to seat himself in the exact same chair Prince Renly had occupied earlier.

Both men stared at each other, a tense silence between them. It seemed the brief time apart had dissipated the bit of rapport they had established earlier in the courtyard.

“I believe you asked for this meeting, Lannister. But since you are hesitant to start, perhaps I should use the opportunity to apologise for ambushing you as I did the last time. I do not apologise for most of what I said, just for the way I went about it.” Jon said his voice firm.

“Can’t say I blame you. I pray to the Gods for forgiveness every night. I already told you I regret pushing your cousin. I do even more now.” Jaime Lannister held Jon’s stare willing him to believe him.

“Then state your business and we both can get back to our duties.” It came out harsher than Jon intended but he preferred that to betraying how he was secretly warming up to the former knight.

“I considered your father a friend. I wished things had been different. I failed his family. Ever since I heard of your existence, I realised you are my chance at redemption. Prince Rhaegar asked me to protect his children. Let me protect you, my Prince.” Jaime moved from the chair until he kneeled before Jon his head bowed.

Jon should have been used to this by now. He was getting used to it when allies swore their allegiance, not yet though when repentant enemies made the attempt.

“I cannot accept your sword, and not only for the practical reason that your life belongs to the Night’s Watch. You must excuse me if I am not ready to trust you yet.”

Jaime got up but did not retake his seat. He moved to stand behind his chair, the table an additional barrier between them. Jon presumed Lannister did that so Jon would not feel threatened by the older man. 

“Then give me a chance to prove myself.” Lannister tried once more to plead his case. “I heard you are about to confront a large army of dead men. Let me come along. I am an experienced commander. I can be of use to you in the field.” 

Jon considered the proposal. It was not without value. Jon would be in the air during most of the attack. Tormund would lead the Free Folk. There probably was not a single man with the credentials of Jaime Lannister available at the Wall. It was one thing to lead a scouting party and fight off a few men of the Free Folk. Even the first ranger at Castle Black didn’t have the experience of leading a large contingent of soldiers into battle nor of keeping his men in line in the chaos of a major clash.

“I will speak to Cotter Pyke about it.” Jon conceded finally.

Jaime Lannister let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you. If ever you feel so inclined, I am willing to tell you about my relationship with your father. Just say the word. I will take my leave now.”

Jon nodded and Jaime Lannister left before Jon had decided whether he would have liked to prolong the conversation or not.

 

 

**Interlude 29: Combining information**

“I know who you are now, Jon.” His younger cousin sat next to him in the Godswood. They both had divested themselves of their boots and were waddling their naked feet in the shallow water of a small pond.

Jon looked at him earnestly. “I never meant to lie to you, Bran.”

“I know. I understand all about keeping secrets now.” Bran replied. His little cousin looked as if he carried an enormous burden within him. 

_‘Perhaps he does,’_ Jon realised. Lord Reed had welcomed him warmly upon his arrival at Greywater Watch. However, instead of inviting him inside the Hall and bringing him to his solar for a private talk, his former foster-father had promised him they would speak later and had immediately steered Jon away for the keep in the direction of the Godswood. 

“Better greet your cousin first.” Lord Reed had said with a serious expression and had offered no further explanation letting Jon find his way to the heart tree on his own. 

Now Jon understood Lord Reed’s motivations. It was Bran he had needed to visit. Bran was the one who had been given the visions for which Jon had made this detour instead of flying in a straight line from Pyke to Dragonstone. ‘Was his young cousin carrying the burden of giving him a dire message and had Lord Reed sent him here first thing so Bran could get it over with?’

“How do you like it here, Bran?” Jon chose to start with a more neutral topic.

Bran looked at Jon and his features lightened. “It is nice here. Jojen and Meera are great as well. Summer likes roaming the swamps.”

“And the food? Have you gotten used to the strange eating habits of the crannogmen?”

Bran smiled. “Lord Reed told me you didn’t like vegetables all that much when you first lived here. I like most of them. And I don’t mind eating frog every other day. It tastes bland enough. Lord Reed swears I will grow stronger, won’t get sick as much and “

“will keep your teeth in excellent condition.” Jon smiled. “He told me that regularly as well. I confess I like eating greens much more now than when I was four and I still have all my teeth.”

They exchanged smiles.

“And how do you get on with Lord Reed?” Jon asked wondering why Bran hadn’t volunteered that information. He was an excellent foster-father to me. He still is. I learned a lot from him.”

The smile on Bran’s face changed to a more serious expression again. His eyes were honest and his tone sincere when he replied. “I like him, I admire him a lot. He is a very uh solicitous teacher. I experience new things almost every day and he helps me cope with it all. I am really getting good at warging and I also, I uh,” 

Bran paused and stared at his feet that were making small waves in the clear water of the pond. Jon saw the bit of enthusiasm that had appeared when his cousin mentioned warging disappear entirely. He nudged Bran’s shoulder. 

“You can tell me, Bran. I am your kin, your friend and a warg just like you. I might understand.”

Bran pulled his feet out of the water and hugged his knees to his chest so he could rest his chin on top of them. He gave his cousins a serious look. “I do not think you can, Jon. The Gods don’t wake you up in the middle of the night with visions, do they?”

Jon also pulled his feet out of the pond and turned sideways so he could sit cross legged on the soft lush grass facing Bran.

“You have been having visions in the middle of the night? Are you sure you did not fall asleep in the Godswood?” Jon asked him just to be sure.

“I was not in the Godswood at the time. I was asleep in my bed when the visions started. The scary ones startled me so much that they woke me up. I was scared and my heart was beating so fast that it hurt. It was similar to having nightmares. Only this was no nightmare, Jon. I realised instantly that the Gods had given me messages. Even now I still remember each and every one of the visions the Gods sent me that night. I only need to close my eyes and I can picture every detail I was shown that night. Lord Reeds says the Gods favour me and I will become a very powerful greenseer. He warns me to be careful not to let others know except you. He told me I could tell you and that you would understand. Why is that?” Bran lifted his head a bit so he could look straight at Jon. 

“Because I think I had visions while I slept in my bed as well.” Jon admitted after some deliberation. 

Surprise covered Bran’s face. He looked at Jon with wide eyes. “Truly? Did they scare you as well?”

Jon moved a little closer to his young cousin and leaned over. His voice dropped near to a whisper. “They did Bran. They scared and confused me.” 

“Why do the Gods do that to us?” Bran’s downcast tone made Jon feel sorry for him. 

“Perhaps because they do not realise how scary their messages are to us. They of course know the full meaning of what they are showing us. These visions are a lot scarier to us simple humans because we do not know for sure what they are about. Hells, we are even in the dark as to when things will happen or if we worry needlessly about something that already happened long before we were born.”

“You really do understand” Bran huddled closer to Jon and leaned against him for comfort. 

“You realise you will soon be King, Jon?” Bran’s voice was soft as a whisper as well when he uttered these words.

“Did the Gods show you that, Bran?” Jon questioned keeping his tone casual. He wanted badly to hear more but made sure to allow his cousin to tell it at his own pace.

“I think so. I saw you on a green dragon. It might have been you that I saw next to King Robert’s deathbed and I saw you with a crown on your head and your hair was all grey. Do you already have dragons, Jon?” Bran’s voice sounded eager. It was easy to understand which answer he was hoping to hear from Jon. 

“I had them since I was twelve.” Jon readily admitted. He smiled when he saw his cousin’s eyes grow wide. “The green dragon is Rhaegal. I was able to come here so quickly because I rode him. I can introduce you to him tomorrow morning if you like. He has a brother too, Viserion. But the green dragon, he is my special friend, just as Summer is your friend.” Jon nodded his head when he met Bran’s questioning eyes.

“You can warg into a dragon? For real? Controlling a dragon, that must be an amazing feeling.“ Bran smiled when Jon nodded again.

“It is more akin to mind sharing than warging. When I connect with Rhaegal, we are equals, whereas when I connect with Ghost, I am in command.” Jon explained.

“Magic is getting stronger in the realm. The Gods were right.” Bran murmured.

Jon felt a shiver running down his spine. “What did the Gods tell you about that, Bran? Will you tell me?”

“That Evil is growing stronger. Therefore, Good needs to grow stronger too. They are doing all they can to help us. They also hint that you are special and everyone needs to help you. I saw enough to guessed that you were born with magic because the leader of the bad forces has reawakened after thousands of years. His magic is growing stronger by the day. Someone needs to be able to oppose him. So the balance between good and evil can be kept, otherwise the survival of every living being in the realm is threatened.”

“Have you seen this leader of the bad forces, Bran? I might have seen him once in a vision but I only caught a small glimpse.”

“I saw him.” Bran admitted looking uneasy. “At least I think it was him. He had a scary white-blue face and his hair was more like ice peaks that stood upright. In fact he looked like he was entirely made of ice. He had this scary long blue fingernail with which he touched a small baby’s cheek. With a single touch he turned a rosy healthy looking baby into an ice baby, Jon. The Gods showed me how he creates his brothers. That was the vision that scared me so much I woke up with my heart racing in my chest.”

Jon put his arm around his cousin to offer some comfort. “That sounds like the creature I have seen. In my vision I was fighting him. I think our Gods sent me some advice on how to defeat him. Don’t worry Bran, I will do everything I can to protect you, to protect the realm.”

“But first you must become the true King.” Bran’s voice once more was barely above a whisper. “A King to defeat a King.”

Jon stiffened when he felt these words echo inside of him. “Then I did not interpret what I saw the wrong way.” He whispered back. “I felt the same thing, Bran. I did not hear these words, I felt them.”

“I know.” Bran said leaning into Jon for comfort. “That’s how I experience it as well. The feelings that accompany these visions sometimes explain more than a thousand pictures could.”

“Would you be willing to tell me more about the visions you had, Bran? You said something about King Robert’s death earlier?” Jon still had his arm around Bran. He angled his body a little so he could see his cousin’s face without straining his neck. 

“Of course, Jon. That is why we asked you to come here. You need to know all that I’ve seen. I do not know whether it will be of much help to you though. I have no clue about when these things might come to pass.” Bran proceeded to tell Jon every detail about the scene he had witnessed in the King’s bedroom in the Red Keep.

“What was the man, who was kneeling with his back to you wearing, Bran?” Jo asked. “Did he carry a sword? Do you recall details about his coat, the colour of the fabric or patterns in the fur collar?”

When Bran had finished his description, Jon was fairly sure it had been him in Bran’s vision. He no longer wondered why Howland Reed had insisted that he visited them at his earliest convenience. This was a possibility that hadn’t been included in one of their scenarios or contingency plans. Even if Bran’s visions had provided no clear timeline, this was vital information.

Jon put his hand on Bran’s shoulder. “No wonder Howland Reed is proud of you. You are doing wonderfully Bran. I am lucky to have you looking out for me.”

“Even though you are a greenseer yourself?” Bran asked, still a bit uncertain even though his cheeks had coloured under Jon’s praise

“I am not even a tenth as powerful as you already are. In fact, I am not sure if I am really a greenseer. Perhaps the Gods only contact me when there is no other way.” Jon pondered. “I can only count a handful of dreams that I suspect are visions in my entire life.”

“I’ll help you. Lord Reed can help as well. You are important to the realm, Jon.”

“Thank you, Bran. I will indeed need all the help I can get. Now take your time and tell me anything you think I need to know. I won’t leave before you had the chance to tell me all. I am lucky to have you looking out for me. You have been a great help already cousin.”

Jon knew he had struck the right tone when Bran straightened his posture. Gone was the frightened young boy. His cousin looked more confident now and told Jon every vision he had been gifted here at Greywater Watch.

As soon as Bran had finished describing the rest of the visions, Jon had changed the subject and had opted to tell his little cousin about his first warging exercises when he had only celebrated his fourth nameday. He chose the ones where things had not always gone exactly according to plan and when Bran chimed in and told one of his more naughty deeds, the ominous visions were all but gone from his young cousin’s mind, at least for a while. 

The sun had set a while ago and it was rather dark beneath the trees in the Godswood when Jon and Bran finally decided to go inside. They walked side by side very comfortable in each other’s company. 

 

***

 

His talk with Howland Reed was not as straightforward. They had retired to the Lord’s solar after Bran had gone to bed. Jon couldn’t remember one single occasion during his time fostering at Greywater Watch that he had received such a harsh scolding. When Lord Reed finally finished his long reprimand Jon did not utter a single word in his own defense. He had no rebuttal. Lord Reed was right on all counts. He should never have taken the risk. 

If Lord Reed was to be believed, what he had tried to do had been even more risky than he had been aware of. Stronger men had died from eating those mushrooms or so Howland Reed had told him.

“At least promise me you will never attempt something like that ever again.” The Lord all but ordered him when Jon kept silent.

“I promise, I swear it on everything I hold dear, Lord Reed. I won’t try it again, even if I never have another vision by conventional means ever again.” Jon’s voice cracked during his fervent attempt to get absolution from his former foster-father. He cleared his throat. “I had been meaning to ask you to help me, to teach me as you taught Bran. Would you be willing to do that?” 

The crannogman’s admonishing stare stayed fixed on the Targaryen Prince for a long while. 

“You do not deserve it. Not after what you have done. I expected better judgement from you, Jon. I never once suspected you were one of those boys that let their baser instincts rule their brains. You almost condemned us all because of your impatience, because you wanted to kiss a beautiful girl without feeling guilty about it.”

Even though Jon had flinched the moment Lord Reed hinted he knew more about him and Dany than Jon had revealed, he kept up his effort to convince the greenseer to help him. “I learned my lesson, Lord Reed. I do not make a vow lightly. I am true to my word. You know that of me. If you are convinced I am so important to the realm then help me.” 

When he saw the stern expression on Lord Reed’s face lessen somewhat he continued his plea with even more insistence. “Please teach me. We need every advantage if we intend to prevail against the Others. I have the potential in me to receive visions once in a while. What if I missed an important clue because I can’t distinguish vision from dream and have not been taught ways try to prolong these visions? Please?” 

Somehow Jon felt certain Howland Reed would cave eventually. It was even possible that he already had decided to give in and was only trying to get his message across before agreeing to give his former ward some much needed lessons.

“You have made good use of your talk with Bran, I see. Perhaps you are not that dim-witted after all.” 

Jon was catapulted back into time when the crannogman’s beady eyes seemed to look right through him. He felt nothing but relief when it dawned on him that Howland Reed’s stance had relaxed noticeably and that the look that was fixed on him now was changing into one of the more benevolent ones he had grown used to during his stay at Greywater Watch. He kept silent aware that his best chance was to give the greenseer ample time to reach his decision. 

“Meet me tomorrow morning in the Godswood at first light. I see what I can do with the limited time we have at our disposal. You will want to depart for Dragonstone soon, I reckon?” 

Jon released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “I do. I will stay the necessary time though. This is very important.”

Howland Reed nodded. “Sit down and let us talk about the impact of Bran’s visions for a bit. I am sure they left you with a lot of questions.”

Jon was only too happy to oblige. As soon as the both of them were seated in their usual chairs before the fireplace, he started the conversation.

“At least one vision reassured me a bit.”

“Let me guess.” Howland studied the serious face of his former ward. “The one where you wear a crown and your hair is all grey?”

Jon nodded. “I never could keep anything a secret from you for long. It seems living apart all this time hasn’t changed that. Indeed, from the moment I learned more about the prophesy and started to believe I was the one to lead the fight against the dead and later the fight against their leader, I felt I would not survive that ultimate fight. If balance needs to exist in the realm, then when Evil is defeated, the hero no longer has a purpose to fulfil.”

“You had knowledge of this leader before Bran told you?” Apparently this was something Lord Reed hadn’t been aware of.

“Yes, I did. There is this White Walker that leads the other Walkers. After hearing about Bran’s vision of the baby, I now suspect he is their creator as well. He has strong magic and will be my ultimate opponent. The key to surviving is to defeat him. I saw a glimpse of myself in single combat with him and nobody else could reach us. I had the strong premonition that even if I were able to destroy him, that I would not survive the fight myself. Sometimes I feel so insignificant, so unworthy, especially after I made another mistake.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “During times like that, I fear I will not be able to do what the Gods want me to do.” 

Jon sat back and leaned against the soft feathered pillow he remembered so well from his youth.

“And now you have faith you will prevail.” Lord Reed stated the obvious. “Anything else you want to tell me about that vision.

“Not really.” Jon had lowered his shoulders. “Do not take it personally. I have not told anyone and I won’t yet. Not before I can make sense of what I saw. It is not about to happen anytime soon anyway. Not now we are sure that I will face him after I am crowned King. I knew that before Bran told me. I had the same premonition. He just confirmed it.”

“A King to defeat a King.” Lord Reed nodded.

“Apparently the prophecy got it wrong. It is not the Prince but the King That Was Promised.” Jon gave Howland Reed a wan smile.

“Or the prophecy was too vague, humans botched it up over the years or something got lost in translation.” The crannogman suggested. “So about the coming battle then, can you tell me a bit more about that? If not their general, who will you fight this time?”

Jon straightened his back again and started to tell him about what had been prepared already. It had grown very late before they decided to call it a night and promised to meet again in the Godswood come morning. Despite the stern talking to he had received, he was glad he had been able to discuss his substance abuse with another adult. Keeping secrets proved to be more burdensome than he had ever imagined. 

He ended up staying another day and night. After some promising lessons, both men had combined all they knew about the past, the present and the future. The only subject they didn’t touch upon was his intent to wed Dany. Somehow the fact that Howland Reed didn’t bring that subject up reassured Jon. After the dressing down he had received his first evening, he was sure Lord Reed would have had no scruples in warning him away from her had he known it would jeopardise their cause.

Jon left Greywater Watch well satisfied with the outcome of this visit. It had been worth the extra delay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Reunions and introductions on Dragonstone.  
> In the interlude Oberyn Martell and Olenna Tyrell spar with words.


	30. Reunions and introductons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An abundance of reunions and introductions occur on Dragonstone.  
> Lady Olenna Tyrell corners Prince Oberyn. Or is it the other way around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the latest chapter, proofread as always by the ever diligent Ravenousreadr.

*

The weather was nice and warm. The only wind Jon and his dragons felt was the air they were replacing by flying at such a speed. To Jon it seemed as if they had never flown so fast. But then, he often had the same notion when they flew over large distances. He hadn’t needed to ask his dragons whether they minded making the trip all the way to Dragonstone only to have to fly back north in a matter of days. Rhaegal and Viserion enjoyed these long flights. They certainly liked testing their speed limit. But most of all they were thrilled by their current destination.

The sudden surge in his dragons’ emotions alerted Jon they had almost arrived before he actually saw Dragonstone shimmer in the distance with his own eyes. The hot air of the afternoon sun made it look like the island was a bit distorted. But it was Dragonstone all right. The happy screeches his dragons let out would certainly herald their arrival. 

His dragons kept flying at top speed eager to get home. At the rate they were going, he imagined himself being catapulted over Rhaegal’s head them moment the dragon needed to reduce speed drastically for the touchdown. Jon had to ask Rhaegal to take care with the landing. When they reached the cliff, Viserion provoked Rhaegal by tumbling playfully in the air while Rhaegal needed to keep steady so his human could safely reach the ground. Jon hardly had time to thank the green dragon and say his goodbyes before Rhaegal took off and joined his brother in the air finally able to express his joy without restrictions at being home once more.

When Jon turned his eyes away from his dragons’ antics, he saw a large group descending the long winding stairway. Daenerys was already at the bottom running towards the cliff as fast as she could. Suddenly Jon felt the same delight as his dragons. Quickly realising that the further on the cliff they met up the longer it would take for the others to catch up, he stood his ground but smiled encouragingly at her.

She was out of breath when he finally could enclose her in his arms. “You’re here. You’re here.” She murmured against his ear. “I was becoming worried. The raven you sent from Pyke gave us the impression you would be here a day earlier.”

Jon didn’t reply but took her head in both hands and kissed her. 

“Aegon, they will see.” She whispered, slightly out of breath when he finally released her mouth.

Jon just gazed into her purple eyes, their faces hovering only inches apart. He had yet to speak.

She only needed to lean in slightly and their lips would touch again. She felt her cheeks go warm at that thought. A sigh from contentment escaped her lips. She relished the fact that Jon was still holding her head in his hands and that his loving eyes were focussed solely on her. She admired the way his dark, almost black curls fell in soft waves over his forehead, swaying slightly with the wind that always blew a bit stronger out here on the cliffs. 

Then her eyes wandered to his mouth again. It looked so sensual and soft, contrasting with the straight lines of the rest of his face. His lips glistened from the remnants of their passionate greeting and she touched hers with the tip of her tongue to savour the remaining taste he had left there. She didn’t dare to speak again not wanting to ruin this precious moment before she absolutely had to. It would be broken soon enough by the approaching group. 

Jon gave her a soft peck and released her face only to take both her hands in his and wove their fingers together. He finally spoke his first words. “I don’t mind. I don’t mind, Dany. It is not as if they don’t already know. We just have to keep it a secret from the realm for now. I really don’t mind that Ser Gerold and the rest know.”

Dany’s eyes were moist. If his letter had given her hope, this warm welcome and the resolve with which his words were spoken told her all she needed to know. She had never felt as happy as she did right this minute and saw he was also struggling to keep his composure. She closed her eyes for a moment and smelled the salty air, trying to commit every last detail of this precious encounter on the green cliffs of her home to memory. A memory she would hopefully get the chance to describe to their children and grandchildren when they asked her to tell them about her courtship with their father or grandfather, King Aegon the Sixth of his name. 

She opened her eyes again when she heard the others were closing in. Even if she didn’t want their moment to end, she had to be sensible because she knew who was coming to meet Prince Aegon. She took a step backwards. “Aegon, we have visitors. It would be best if you let go of me before they come close enough to see this as more than a greeting between kin.”

Jon reluctantly took her eyes of her blushing face, looked over her shoulder and gently released her hands. Davos Seaworth and all four knights were approaching. Sam was a bit further behind with another group but Jon only had eyes for his loyal entourage that he had missed dearly. 

Davos, despite being the eldest reached Jon first and embraced him. “Damned good to see you, son. You had me worried there for an instant.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Davos. I can’t count the times I missed your advice.” Jon basked in the affection bestowed on him.

“Well I am here now.” Davos ended their embrace and took a step back to study the young man closely. “You look well. Strong. The others had me worried.”

A guilty smile flitted over Jon’s face. “In their defense, I was sick when last they saw me.” 

His awkward smile quickly changed in to a more honest one when he looked past Davos at the others, happy to be reunited with them all.

“Damned right you were!” Ser Gerold exclaimed. “Davos, give way. We want a chance to greet our Prince too.”

His embrace was a bit shorter and Ser Oswell’s even more. The knight seemed almost shy.

“My Prince.” 

Jon looked to his left knowing all too well who had spoken these two words. Ser Arthur stood there smiling broadly. 

“Ser Arthur, you made it as well.” Jon turned his way and initiated their embrace. “I have been training hard. You will not be disappointed.” 

“That is the least of my worries, my Prince. I am glad to see you looking so well. I can’t wait to hear what your plans are.”

“You’ll hear soon enough.” Jon promised.

“The Princess?” Ser Arthur gave him a look that asked a lot more than those two words.

“Yeah.” Jon’s heartfelt expression betrayed the rest of his answer.

“Come here, my boy!” Ser Arthur was pushed aside and Jon almost lost his balance when one of the visitors pulled him towards his body.

“Prince Oberyn? What a nice surprise!” Jon noticed the others had retreated a bit to give the Dornish Prince enough space.

“See?” Prince Oberyn told to no one in particular with twinkling eyes when he released the Targaryen Prince from his exuberant embrace. “It was me he wanted to see all along. Tarly shouldn’t have held me back.” 

He gestured to a woman standing close to Sam. “May I present my paramour, Ellaria Sand to you, my Prince?”

A tall exotic woman with slanted eyes that were accentuated with black eyeliner approached. She might not have been the most beautiful woman Jon had ever met but her entire demeanour, the way she almost floated when she moved, the kind expression in her eyes and the well-chosen vibrant colours of her extravagant attire all enhanced her appearance and transformed her into an enchantress many men would desire. The woman oozed sensuality. Upon meeting her, Jon had no trouble believing most of Prince Oberyn’s highhanded tales of their outrageous exploits were true, in particular the allusions to their unconventional sex life. 

Jon bowed formally in response to her curtsy. “I am honoured to meet you, Ellaria Sand. Prince Oberyn’s partner is most welcome here. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

He noticed Oberyn and Ellaria share a quick look. Jon didn’t know what Ellaria’s meant. Prince Oberyn’s look easily translated in _‘See, I told you so.’_

Ellaria Sand looked up at the sky. “Your dragons are magnificent, my Prince.” She was not the only one who was observing the playful antics of Rhaegal and Viserion.

“On that note,” Prince Oberyn gestured the others to approach. “May I present some friends from Dorne who will support you whatever my older brother may decide?” 

“By all means.” Jon smiled at Ellaria one last time and turned his attention to the men Sam had finally given leave to approach. 

“Lord Daeron Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway, Prince Aegon.” Oberyn for once serious started the formal introductions of two new Dorne allies that had pledged to support the imminent Targaryen restoration.

After a short polite conversation the men made room for Ser Arthur to approach his Prince once more. This time he led a middle aged lady by the hand until she faced the Targaryen Prince. 

“May I present my sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne, my Prince.” The genuine smile on his Kingsguard’s face belied the stately manner of the introduction

The lady curtsied and when she straightened her back once more, Jon immediately noticed the resemblance with her brother in her hesitant smile.

“I am honoured to meet you, Lady Dayne. I am sorry you were deprived of your brother’s company for all those years. I owe Ser Arthur a great deal. He is an important part of the reason I am standing before you healthy and well and capable of defending myself. I consider myself in your debt.” Jon bowed once more as a show of respect.

“You honour our house, my Prince. I am glad to get to know the person my brother dedicated his life to. I can already see that he spoke true even if he spoke little.” With a playful reproaching look at her brother she stepped aside and gave the Prince time to greet the few visitors that were still patiently awaiting their turn.

Only after the formalities were behind them and the group guided by Princess Daenerys headed back to the castle, did Jon get a chance to greet Sam properly. After sharing a long embrace and expressing their joy at seeing the other in good health, Jon was the first to speak up again.

“Robb, Gendry and Edric send their warmest regards, Sam.” He kept his voice down to keep their conversation private.

“I received letters from each one. They all said the same thing and I quote _‘I have time to write now that Jon left us once again.’_ end of quote.” Sam’s tone was teasing.

Jon smiled impishly. “Can I help it that you are all dispersed across the realm? We really need to find a way to get everyone together again. We will succeed in it one day, Sam.”

“How long are you here for, Jon?” Sam looked at Jon and it seemed he was almost afraid of the answer.

Jon sighed. “A sennight, ten days at the most. I want to be back at least a fortnight before the dead arrive at the prearranged spot so I can help with the final preparations and be in time should they somehow arrive sooner for some reason or other.”

“Ten days.” Sam looked pensive. “As soon as Varys hears that, you may expect more delegations to arrive. Everyone that has rallied to our cause has been expressing the desire to meet you in person. You better be prepared for a small invasion. Especially Prince Oberyn will not be able to keep himself from boasting and gloating.”

“Those are worries for another day. I hope we have a feast this evening. I feel like celebrating my homecoming. The dragons’ mood has affected mine it seems.”

“That must be a Targaryen thing then.” Sam teased him some more. “The Princess’ mood has changed considerably as well. If I compare the way she beams from ear to ear now to the worried look she wore this morning …”

Jon nudged his shoulders. “Be glad for us, Sam. That is what a loyal friend would be.”

“I am glad for you and the Princess, Jon. I was praying you would come to your senses any day now. If you had remained a stubborn fool for much longer, I might have given you a not so subtle nudge in the right direction or call an intervention. You are one lucky fellow or a very smart one to fall for the woman most suitable to strengthen your claim.”

“I don’t think sense had anything to do with it. Luck? Yeah, luck.” Jon admitted.

“And blood, and magic.” Sam whispered.

“Or the Gods.” Jon sighed happily. “I will send them my thanks each night when I pray. I am one lucky man.”

 

***

 

Jon was content to be reunited with the knights that had raised him all those years. The only downside was that they all vied for his time. Ser Gerold had arranged guard duties rather unconventionally his first day. Before Jon went to sleep, all four of them had been on duty for a short period. Each one had his own set of questions they wanted to ask in private. Jon only needed to wait till the first sliver of opportunity presented itself for the questions to start. 

While he was bathing, Ser Gerold guarding the entrance of the small antechamber had briefed him on the new security measures on Dragonstone now there were new visitors expected to arrive daily. The houseguards had been doubled. Access was restricted in the wing that housed the royal quarters. The corridors leading towards these rooms had guards posted in them day and night. 

Ser Gerold asked his Prince to give him advance notice of his movements so he could arrange an escort of at minimum two Kingsguards and when the circumstances asked for it a small contingent of houseguards to follow him around as well. 

Jon had stepped out of the tub and was drying himself with a cloth when he agreed with Ser Gerold measures and made it clear that he understood the need for these heightened security measures and had been reassured that the Princess’ security had been upgraded as well.

He was putting on the clothes that lay on the bed, the ones he had chosen earlier when Ser Gerold switched the subject. His Lord Commander asked to hear more details of how Sandor was doing in the North and expressed his concerns on the appointment of Lady Brienne to his Kingsguard.

Jon listened carefully even if his eyes were trained on his fingers tightening the laces of his breeches. Until now, Jon had been able to withhold from engaging the services of a page, a squire or any other male servant. He was capable of seeing to his own needs, cherishing the solitude and privacy that this gave him. He was well aware that things might change the moment he became the King and lived at court.

“Don’t get me wrong, my Prince. I admire her attitude. She is one of the most forthright, one of the most honourable persons I met and she is a very skilled fighter. It is just the logistical nightmare of having a woman live with us at the White Sword Tower. Apart from my room that is rather spacious, there are only six sparse sleeping cells all on the same floor and they are only used for sleeping. All other activities take place in the communal room.”

“Ser Gerold, although I have never seen it with my own eyes, I have read a detailed description of the White Sword Tower. It doesn’t feel right to have my loyal Kingsguards, who raised me and lived with me in close proximity for so long, living in such mediocre accommodations while I dwell in luxury. Furthermore, the Gods willing, I intend to have a large family that needs to be protected and I also intend to assign more responsibilities to the three, or four of you on top on your guard duties.”

“My Prince?” This was not the response Ser Gerold had expected to receive.

“The four of you will be asked to play an active role in various meetings for one, and it won’t do to have you stand guard by the door and keep silent when you do so. I plan to expand the Kingsguard. I want to differentiate between senior Kingsguard members and the newer recruits. My three senior Kingsguards will also be advisers to the King and ambassadors when I visit the other Kingdoms. I will have to talk with Ser Barristan and Princess Daenerys to see what he prefers to do. The newer members of the Kingsguard that you recruit and train will be more formal guards and will be given the more routine guarding duties. So I give you leave to go in search of another building either to house all of you or to add to the quarters you already call your own.”

“But my Prince, the safety of your spouse and children is the responsibility of the Dragonguard. Their numbers can vary to suit the needs of the royal family. Surely you must have been taught about the Royal Guard having three divisions? The position of Kingsguard is very exclusive. There have never been more than seven White Cloaks.”

Jon stopped searching for his sword belt and sat down on the bed. He seemed deep in thought. “To tell you the truth, I had forgotten about that. I did indeed learn about this when I was very young. I learned those terms by hard but didn’t actual consider the true meaning behind the words at the time. In later years the subject never came up again.”

He looked up at Ser Gerold. “You have plans in place already to reinstate the Royal Guard with its three divisions.”

“It has always been that way when a Targaryen ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Are you going to toss these traditions aside, my Prince?” Ser Gerold did his best to hide his dismay at the thought.

“I didn’t, I mean.” Jon swallowed. His earnest eyes looked at the slightly pained expression of his Lord Commander. “I only wanted to reward my three loyal protectors and make sure they know I am aware that they have more potential than just being loyal swords that keep me safe. I will need your council as well as your swords. What is your council in this regard, Ser Gerold?”

 

Ser Gerold stood rooted to his spot and replied formally. “I envisioned myself as the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard and as such I would be responsible to oversee the three separate divisions. I must confess I have already ordered a new white cloak edged in gold.” 

Seeing his Prince nod, Ser Gerold felt encouraged to continue.  
“Either Ser Arthur or Ser Oswell could then be named as Commander of the Kingsguard also known as the White Cloaks. They are the first division of the Royal Guard, dedicated solely to the King's safety. Ser Barristan could be named Commander of the second division, the Dragonguard. If you recall from your lessons they are responsible for the safety of the Queen and royal children. These men are recognised by their cloaks of half red and half black with a white three headed dragon on the back and on the breast. As the Commander of the Dragonsguard, Ser Barristan’s cloak would be edged in silver.  
I do not have a candidate for the position of Commander of the Household Guard yet. I will assume these responsibilities at first until I find someone suitable.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that the Houseguards on Dragonstone wear the black coats with a red three headed dragon on the back and breast as worn by the Targaryen royal houseguard.” Jon remarked a pensive look on his face. “You have been building a Household guard but no Dragonguard as yet?”

“I wanted to speak to you about the appointment of Ser Barristan first. I am not sure what the man’s ambitions are and wouldn’t wish to disappoint you by antagonising him. Perhaps he is vying for the position of Commander of the Kingsguard.”

“What about the choice between Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell?” Jon asked him perplexed. “I would have thought that was the more delicate decision.”

“I wanted to talk to Ser Arthur first and offer the position to him. If he declines then Ser Oswell will be promoted. That is if you agree, my Prince.”

Again Jon nodded looking grave. “It is all coming back to me now. Househould guards can be promoted into the Dragonguard when a spot opens up. Dragonguards in turn can be promoted into the Kingsguard when there is a vacancy. I obviously overstepped. However, I can’t go back on my word as far as the appointments of Lady Brienne of Tarth and Loras of House Tyrell are concerned. I explicitly promised them a position in my Kingsguard.”

“I will honour your promise, my Prince. “ Ser Gerold was quick to give his assent. “There have always been exceptions. Take the appointment of Ser Jaime for instance. He became a Kingsguard because of his fighting skills and pedigree when he was very young.”

Jon looked relieved now. “Can we postpone the other appointments until after the battle I am about to lead near Hardhome? Be assured, I will leave the ultimate decision to you and promise not to appoint other members to your Kingsguard. If ever I am in that position again, I will recommend the men or women in question to you and won’t interfere in your decision.”

“You recommendations will always be considered most seriously, my Prince. You are certainly qualified enough to detect a good fighter. But always keep in mind their honour and loyalties are also very important qualifications to take into consideration.”

“And you will see to it that the three of you will be available for advice and I can still ask for example Ser Arthur to attend a meeting or join me on a trip to another Kingdom and have him attend meetings there?” Jon had gotten up from the bed again and picked up his sword belt. 

“We’ll discuss such details after you return from the Wall, my Prince.”

Jon put his sword belt around his waist and turned to Ser Gerold when he continued a serious expression on his face.  
“And the White Sword Tower can remain the home of the Kingsguard, with perhaps some alterations to accommodate the lady Brienne? Let me know if you need other lodgings.”

“I will think on all you have proposed, my Prince. We’ll revisit this conversation later. I promise to extend a warm welcome to the two new members. We will find a way to make it work and I will look into the accommodations. However I want to make it clear right now that the Kingsguard will never relinquish the White Sword Tower.”

“But might consider upgrading it a little?” Jon couldn’t help but suggest with a tentative smile.

“They might at that.” Ser Gerold relented and his serious face relaxed when he looked in the earnest eyes of his Prince. “It is a pleasure serving you my Prince, an honour and a pleasure.”

Not long after, Ser Gerold had left him only for Ser Oswell to take up guard duty. Jon unpacked his small bag, sorted through his affairs left behind on Dragonstone and laid out a new doublet suitable to entertain his visitors during dinner that evening. Then Jon asked Ser Oswell to escort him to the location where Dragonstone’s new heart tree had taken root. Ser Oswell informed him about the plans of planting more trees and building a small garden complete with surrounding stone wall to create a safe haven to pray. Only now the war efforts were taking precedent.

Jon nodded, and swallowed thickly before expressing the wish for a small crater to be dug as well. It would be nice to have an artificial pond close to the heart tree as well. While they strolled back to the castle, Ser Oswell had wanted to hear about his sparring sessions and an account of Gendry’s efforts and a detailed description of the arsenal of dragonglass weapons. 

A bit later Ser Barristan took over guard duty and didn’t beat about the bush. He immediately raised the topic of the Princess. The knight gently coaxed him to reveal how things stood between them. Jon sitting at the small table stopped reading the messages that lay before him and informed the old knight that aside from a major catastrophe, he considered the two of them betrothed. Ser Barristan then recommended that he should tell the Princess as much. Jon promised to use the first opportunity he could find to do just that. Ser Barristan left with a smile on his face only to have Ser Arthur take over his watch.

The talk with Ser Arthur had been the more emotional. After broaching topics as the wellbeing of his friends including Sandor and his uncle Benjen, the knight had gotten Jon to talk about the prophecy and whether Jon now truly believed that he was at the center of it. 

Jon who still had difficulty at times grasping the fact that simply by being born, he was entitle to a Kingship, having dragons and was the predestined hero to lead the fight against the dead, had always refrained from discussing his role in the prophecy with anyone except for Lord Reed. But somehow Ser Arthur had gotten past his defenses that day and it had all come pouring out of him.

“I know it doesn’t make sense, Ser Arthur. And I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but despite the general consensus that I have embraced my birthright. I struggle with doubts every day.” 

He looked up as if to check if Ser Arthur was willing to hear him out. Ser Arthur left his position close to the door and sat opposite Jon, the table with the scrolls Jon had been sifting through between them.

“I have known since I was twelve that I have this destiny and I have learned to accept it for the most part. But there are times I can’t help feeling I am not worthy of it. And on top of that it now has become clear that I am indeed at the center of a prophecy that is thousands of years old. Why now, why me? What if I cannot live up to expectations?”

“I cannot begin to imagine the burden you carry with you, my Prince. I can only assure you that you are doing fine. You are not shying away from the responsibility at least be proud of that. You are embracing your destiny as best as you can. You will become a good King step by step, just as you’ve grown from baby to boy to man not overnight but over the course of seventeen years.”

“But I am not perfect. I make mistakes just as everybody else. I have a problem with asking things of others. I worry about people giving things up, risking their lives because of me. Why do older, wiser, better men kneel before a young guy just because of his ancestry?”

“I can only answer for myself, my Prince. It is ingrained in me. It is the way of our society, the customs and mores we grew up with. The moment I became a Kingsguard, I swore to serve and protect the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms for the rest of my live. I consider serving you as the greatest honour that has been bestowed on me.”

“And what if I had turned out to be a stupid boy who can’t count to ten or a cruel tyrant who orders people killed for no reason? What if I turned out to be a reincarnation of the Mad King? Does the role you have chosen for yourself prevent you from thinking for yourself, from taking responsibility for your actions?”

Ser Arthur shifted in his chair into a better angle using the delay to formulate his answer. “If you were just a stupid boy, we would have given you sound advisers who could guide you or take over the duties you could not perform. The other two possibilities you describe, I honestly do not know how I would have acted. It is a difficult question you ask, my Prince. As knights we are sworn to protect our monarch but also the weak. If these interests clash, I will need to assess the situation and all its circumstances and live with the decision I have made.”

“I’ll give you some specific circumstances.” Jon immediately grasped the opening Ser Arthur had given him.

“I am a Mad King and have hurt the people of my Kingdoms cruelly and without justification on multiple occasions. Now I sit on my throne while a rebellion is going on outside. I have ordered for explosive substances to be put in strategic parts of the city. A single order from me will cripple the invading army but will also most certainly kill almost the entire population of my capital. You are the Kingsguard on duty that day and can hear me yelling the command to ignite the fires that will cause a chain of explosions and will destroy the entire city killing all its innocent inhabitants. Will you stop me if the only way to do so is killing the King you have sworn to protect by stabbing me in the back?”

Jon saw Ser Arthur’s eyes grow wider while he talked. A frown had appeared on the knight’s forehead. Suddenly it disappeared and he looked at Jon with understanding. “You are talking of Jaime Lannister!”

Jon nodded. “And he was younger than I am now. I reckon that act destroyed the potential of the person he could have become. Instead of a famous knight like you, he became infamous and is called a Kingslayer. He was so unhappy that he sought emotional support from his twin and ended up fucking her and cuckolding the second King he served. That fact then drove him to almost murdering my cousin Bran in a fit of panic.”

“I feel sorry for Jaime Lannister. I have ever since Ser Gerold told me what had really happened in the throne room that fateful day. Still I can’t help but think I am missing your point here, my Prince. I do not think that the point you are trying to make is having me feel sorry for Ser Jaime, I mean Jaime Lannister.” Ser Arthur looked at Jon with a question in his eyes.

Jon smiled apologetically. “That is because I am making a mess of my question. The thing is, I have this birthright, this destiny and you all consider me worthy now. One misstep however, one wrong decision could throw me off the right path and I could become another Jaime Lannister or worse, another Mad King. That fear cripples me sometimes.”

“I haven’t witnessed any crippling yet, my Prince. Besides, you have all of us to fall back upon. To use your example, Jaime Lannister only had the dubious support of his evil egocentric sister.”

“True, I have the support and advice of many. But still the final decision and final responsibility is mine. And I struggle to decide sometimes. Even knowing most of my flaws, I just can’t get around them.”

“The only flaw I see so far is you being too modest and taking too much on your shoulders.” Ser Arthur reassured his Prince.

“I have many flaws. I am not a good strategist when it comes to putting soldiers in harm’s way. I read of battles where a commander willingly sacrifices a significant part of his army to set a trap, lure the enemy a certain way. I do not know if I will ever be able to do that. I can’t help feeling partly to blame for the rebellion caused by my parents’ secret marriage and it makes me doubt my claim is righteous. The realm has already bled for me to be born. I also have this urge to earn everyone’s approval and that influences and potentially delays my decision making. I can go on for some time still.”

“Perhaps it is not to me you should take to about all this. Davos, your uncle Benjen, Lord Reed are all better placed to help you out.” Ser Arthur suggested. He was out of his depth and unsure how to respond to all he was hearing.

“They all would offer well-meant advice. I know most of what they will say already. Rationally I know all that. I know that they are mostly right and that I am often overthinking things. But even knowing all that, the emotions are there and I struggle with them all the same. Talking about this out loud makes these feelings easier to put aside somehow. I just need a sympathetic ear, someone who listens without giving a lecture full of excellent advice afterwards.”

“I do not think that is a compliment exactly, you singling me out for this.” Ser Arthur gave him a wan smile.

“It is. You are easy to talk to. And when you give advice, it is always done in such a way that it does not limit my options, or tries to steer me in a certain direction. Besides, we are often of the same opinion.” Jon smiled and Ser Arthur now returned his smile with a bit of relief.

“It is interesting though that you left Eddard Stark out of the list of people to talk to about my dilemmas.” Jon ventured.

“You know well enough why I did that. I’d prefer not to voice my reasons out loud.” Ser Arthur voice sounded firm, even if his eyes betrayed some humour.

Both men stayed silent after that. Jon broke their contemplation when he asked in a much lighter tone. ‘Want to hear who I beat while you were not with me?”

“I’d be more interested to learn who did beat you, my Prince.” Ser Arthur countered in a teasing tone. “I look forward to putting myself on that short list once more.”

“You can try. This is one area where I am losing my modesty and am not feeling guilty about it.” Jon countered. “I look forward to sparring with you come morning.”

A knock startled Ser Arthur who immediately got up and walked back to the door.

“Don’t worry. It is just friendly old me wanting to see if the Prince has time to have a word.” Jon heard Davos’ voice tell Ser Arthur.

“Let him in, Ser Arthur. I am most willing to have a private talk with my Hand.” Jon nodded at Ser Arthur and the knight took up his guard duty in the hallway after closing the door.

Jon had left the small table and stood near the fire place. If Davos wanted to talk, perhaps the softer chairs here would be more suitable. He turned his head and savoured the presence of his trusted adviser.

“I’m glad to have you back, Davos.”

Davos chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. I believed you the first time. How are you doing, Jon?”

“Glad to be back here. I never realised I missed Dragonstone when I was in the North. But then I have been rather busy there. There never seems to be enough time. But if I have to be honest I am also anxious and somewhat scared about what is to come.”

“That is only natural. How is Robb Stark doing?”

Jon launched in a long explanation telling him about the Stark siblings, his uncle, his friends, Sandor and his new wife and Tormund having a new-born son. When Davos started to ask after the situation in the North, Jon suggested keeping that conversation for the debriefing that was to take place tomorrow morning immediately after the sparring session.

“Fair enough. Just the broad lines then.” Davos agreed readily.

“By now I have the support of the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands, The Vale, part of the Crownlands and part of Dorne. We have an impressive fleet stationed here and two large dragons. The Reach is still on the fence but I am not too worried about them ever since Loras Tyrell has agreed to become a member of my Kingsguard. The Stormlands, Euron Greyjoy and of course King Robert are certain to oppose us.” Jon paused for breath.

“And reading the long list of Targaryen loyalists present in the capital and at the royal court of King Robert, the capital is ripe for the taking.” Davos used the opportunity to pipe in.

“Exactly. I can’t marry Euron Greyjoy and Prince Stannis won’t give up House Baratheon’s claim to the Iron Throne just by me being a good husband to his daughter, I intend to adhere to my great-great-uncle’s dying wish and marry Princess Daenerys.”

“Good for you, son.” Davos was pleased to see Jon blush.

“You really think so? I won’t make a political mistake by not marrying Lady Margaery?” Even though it was phrased as a question, Jon’s tone made it clear it was more of a statement and he just needed Davos to agree with him.

“The Tyrells don’t deserve that honour. If you were to marry for political reasons, I would think it fairer that you rewarded a house that has helped our cause as opposed to one that is always looking to find the highest bidder. No, Jon, if Eddard Stark can seal the betrothal between his heir and Lady Margaery, the Tyrells are being recompensed more than their due. You don’t know how many chances they have turned down over the years. I won’t say anything against the Lady Margaery as a person. I don’t know her, but her family, you owe them nothing.”

“Am I understanding this right? Are you confirming that there is no need to delay our betrothal or keep it a secret?” Jon leaned forward as if that would make him hear Davos’ reply that titbit sooner.

“You would make one pining Princess very happy. Might I suggest a joint coronation and wedding ceremony in the Grand Sept of Baelor?”

“Only if we marry before the old Gods in a Godswood at the latest the night before. Being married by a Septon in a grand ceremony is just a piece of theatre I am willing to play my part in to placate the followers of the Seven. I will consider myself married to Dany only after we have said our vows whilst kneeling in front of a heart tree before witnesses and having our union blessed by the Old Gods.

 

***

 

When Prince Aegon Targaryen entered the Great Hall that evening, walking side by side with Princess Daenerys all eyes turned to them. Sam had taken Jon’s words to heart and had seen to it that a festive atmosphere ruled the Great Hall. Decorations had been pulled out from under the dust. Combined with the newly painted banners, Jon had never seen the Great Hall looking so grand and festive. The throne was hidden behind the large drapes with their sigil. The side walls were lined with double rows of tables. Jon noticed the visitors from Dorne were all seated at the front table lining the wall to his left. Amongst them were several new arrivals and Jon anticipated more introductions. 

When his eyes scanned the other tables and the ones on the right side of the Great Hall, he smiled. He could put a name to all the men and most of their family members. It was nice to see the inhabitants of Dragonstone and the Driftmark mingling. He nodded several greetings before reaching the high table, noticing Dany doing the same with a happy smile on her face.

Soft music could be heard coming from the left corner. Two young minstrels were sitting on a bench. One was playing a large harp that stood in front of him. The other was plucking strings on a strange looking instrument having a pear-shaped body and a long neck. The sweet, gentle tones coming from this musical instrument compliment the sound of the harp beautifully. 

As soon as Jon and Daenerys were seated, a line of servants entered carrying plates with deliciously smelling meat and freshly baked bread. Pitchers of wine were present in abundance. Jon leaned a bit forward so he could look past Davos to Sam and mouthed a sincere thank you. Sam nodded his head smiling broadly. 

It had all been arranged to perfection. Everyone who witnessed the royal couple take their seats at the high table received the message loud and clear. You couldn’t miss the large banners of the three headed dragon hanging behind them. A trueborn King and Princess of House Targaryen, aided by two living dragons would soon be staking its claim to the Iron Throne. And by the way they had entered it was clear that the Seven Kingdoms would not only have a new Targaryen King but also a new Queen with the blood of old Valyria. At least half of the Lords present were disappointed that their hopes to bind their house to House Targaryen in marriage were thwarted. Still the majority was looking forward to witnessing the beginning of the promising reign of the young King and his future Queen.

When most of the food had been consumed, Jon and Dany agreed to do the rounds. Dany moved over to the Dornish delegation, Jon sat down at a table on the opposite side where two families, one from the Driftmark and the other from Dragonstone were arguing who was the better acquainted with the Targaryen Prince. Jon joined their banter and challenged them to prove to him who had first voiced his suspicions regarding his origins out loud. This promptly started another friendly rivalry with the houses on Dragonstone arguing that the inhabitants of the Driftmark had an unfair advantage there. 

Jon then silenced them all by telling a few stories of growing up on the small island. Soon more people drifted to his table and Jon found himself telling the story of raising two tiny dragons to a wide audience forming a circle around the table where he was seated.

When he fell silent, Prince Oberyn, who had wormed his way to a spot close to the Targaryen Prince started entertaining everyone with a colourful tale of his first encounter with Prince Aegon and boasted how he had immediately recognised the fighting style of his dear friend, the famous Sword of the Morning and that way had known something had been up from the very first moment. 

A bit later, Princess Daenerys also joined that side of the room when most of the Dornish delegation expressed their wish to hear the stories Jon was telling. The chair next to Jon was immediately vacated and offered to her by a young carpenter that had helped transform the figurehead of one of their flagship. Jon took her hand in his and put it on his lap while they listened to the exaggerated tales of the Dornish Prince. 

Jon then interrupted him and took over the story revealing how a younger version of himself had tricked the Dornish Prince in teaching him the basics of fighting with a longspear. Prince Oberyn intruded several times to add an exaggerated detail. Noble Lords and smallfolk alike were spellbound. Jon spent a lovely evening basking in the company of friends, allies, grateful that everyone accepted him and happy that he and Dany could enjoy each other’s company with neither censure from their environment nor tension between the two of them.

His mind wandered a bit when Prince Oberyn told an elaborate story Jon had already heard at least twice during the time they had been together in Castle Black. He gently moved his thumb over Daenerys’ hand that he was still holding in his lap and he thought back to their stolen moment right before supper.

Jon had asked Dany to wait for him to pick her up so he could be her escort to dinner. When he had knocked on her door it had been a bit early still. It hadn’t been Dany who had opened the door but instead it had been Irri, her handmaiden that had greeted him with a shy smile. Jon had returned the greeting and taken the opportunity to express his gratefulness that she had been willing to travel to another continent to keep her friend company. Irri had blushed and invited him inside telling him her mistress was awaiting him eagerly.

Dany had been standing inside the room nervously wringing her hands but he saw the hope in her eyes when she lifted them to his face. Aside from his behaviour since arriving, his scroll must have arrived almost a sennight ago and he had understood that she was eager for him to explain the hints in his letter. Jon hadn’t wasted any time.

Careful not to disturb her elaborated hairdo, he had taken her in his arms and had given her a gently kiss. “Tomorrow I formally announce to the small council my intent to marry you. That is if you will still have me.” 

He heard a small shriek coming from Irri who had remained by the door. Dany gave her a significant look and Irri smiled encouragingly at her and left the room.

Dany in the meantime had taken a small step back and had looked at him her eyes suspiciously moist. “Is that your way of asking me? Not the most romantic proposal, Aegon?” She had used a teasing tone even if there had been a tremor in her voice.

Jon had grabbed both her hands, his dark Stark eyes looking warmly at hers with clear intent.

“Let me try to do this right then.” He had taken a deep breath. 

“Dearest, loveliest Dany, I would do anything to have you by my side day and night. It has been so hard these last few moons, knowing you exist in this world and not being able to stake my claim for the realm to see. I love you with every fibre of my being and I can’t imagine a life where you are not beside me. Be my Queen and help me with the daunting task before us. Rule the Seven Kingdoms together with me. Warm my bed and give me heirs. Please promise you will marry me, my beloved.”

He had paused and had held his breath when he had seen two tears rolling over her cheeks. He had released her hands so his were free to gently wipe these tiny wet pearls away. “Don’t cry, Dany. Just say yes and we can smile at each other for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re sure, Aegon. No sudden setback, no declaration of war will incite you to rescind your word or worse live beside me with regret, with guilt?”

He had enveloped her in his arms and pulled her body against him, gently guiding her head against his chest. “Forgive me for not deciding this sooner. But don’t doubt me now, don’t doubt my word. I did not make this decision lightly but I made it taking everything into account and am now absolutely convinced it is the best option for the realm as well as for you and me.” 

He had put his hand under her chin and guided her head slowly upwards so she had been able to read the honesty and absence of doubt in his eyes.

“I solemnly swear I will never regret this decision. Not only are you the only woman I could ever love, you strengthen my claim to the throne. Our children will have your pure Valyrian blood and you have already proved that you have what it takes to become a good Queen. You will provide me with council, support me and together we will strive to make the Seven Kingdoms a place where nobles and smallfolk can live in peace and prosperity. You are the one for me, Dany. I am so lucky that the love of my heart and the right Queen for Westeros is one and the same person: you, you are … everything. You are it.”

He had felt her tremble in his arms and his left hand had stroked her back in a soothing manner. Moments later he had heard her sigh of contentment before she had spoken. 

“Yes, of course I will marry you. Yes, yes and yes. And there is nothing to forgive, Aegon. You were right not to make a hasty decision.”

She hadn’t been able to elaborate because he had tilted her chin a bit higher and had kissed her reverently, still taking care not to ruin her braids.”

“Then we are betrothed, my dear. No formal announcements yet, except to the members of our small council tomorrow but that is all. We will marry after the Iron Throne is ours.”

“Ours,” She had sighed and had snuggled closer to him not caring that her dress got a bit wrinkled.

“Ours,” he had affirmed. “Now I do not know about you but I am starting to feel hungry. Besides, I reckon we have a Great Hall filled with people expecting us.”

Ser Barristan who had stood outside Dany’s door had nodded at them when they had left her room and had followed them to the Great Hall. He had tried to keep his face blank befitting a Kingsguard following the royals he had been guarding. But those who knew him well would have seen by his relaxed features and the light in his eyes that the old knight was very happy that moment. He had been ever since Irri had left the room and he had heard his Prince proposing to Princess Daenerys before the door closed behind her handmaiden.

“Our Prince can affirm that that is true. Isn’t that right?” Jon startled out of his reverie when Prince Oberyn nudged his shoulder. “Hey Prince Aegon, were you wool-gathering?”

Prince Oberyn noticed the entwined hands on Jon’s lap. “I see. You are forgiven, my Prince. Nothing but a beautiful lady to make dreamers out of the fiercest warriors. How skilled have you gotten with a longspear, Prince Aegon? “ He challenged the Targaryen Prince.

“Not as skilled as I would like, but I welcome the challenge and will oblige you if afterwards you agree to let me take on your longspear with my sword and shield for at least one bout.” Jon didn’t hesitate to grasp the opportunity to spar with the elusive Dornish Prince.

“Just let me sleep on that for a sennight or so.” Prince Oberyn’s playfully sidestepped Jon’s familiar request once again. “I’ll get back to you on that. For now, I will try to get up early enough to watch you train. Ser Arthur told me it is quite the sight.”

“I try.” Jon said smiling and teased. “At least I will be more productive than you the coming days.”

“But I already have my reputation, young one. You are just beginning to build your legacy. Come to me for advice anytime you want. I am a fountain of wisdom,” he boasted grinning from ear to ear. 

Prince Oberyn filled his cup with red Dornish wine and lifted it, loudly calling for silence.

“Let us all drink to the health of Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, rightful heir to the Iron Throne and soon to be the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail Aegon Targaryen, long may he reign!”

“Long may he reign, long may he reign.”

 

*** 

 

The next morning, Jon saw Dany only fleetingly when they broke their fast together very early in the Great Hall. Only Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Irri were present. Dany and Jon left the table after she promised to take a walk with him after supper that evening. Dany was set to go to the Driftmark for most of the day. 

Jon and Ser Arthur headed for the training yard where Ser Oswell joined them soon after. Next up would be a small council meeting and the afternoon was reserved for private audiences. The noble families would all get chance to speak with the Prince without the entire court present.

Jon performed his training complete with muscle building exercises that had become a routine now. Ser Arthur who observed them for the first time was pleased with his enhanced strength but cautioned him when he observed the intensity of some of the routines Jon was performing. 

“Careful not to strain your muscles, my Prince. Your body is still developing. Your joints and ligaments have trouble enough adjusting to your grow spurt. I would advise you not to run around with that much weight. Spare your knees for now. In a year or two you will be less vulnerable to injuries.”

A while later, Ser Gerold came out and asked them stop the session for today and join them in the room with the painted table as soon as they had freshened up.

 

***

 

Davos and his three Kingsguards all took seats facing him. Sam sat down next to Jon and started to place his writing material in front of him, covering the part that depicted the Fingers in doing so. Jon was amused by the symbolism of that little act. Even more when he noticed he sat at the exact spot where King’s Landing and Dragonstone were painted.

The seating arrangements seemed a bit off though. He would have preferred to have Davos on his side of the table. He shook his head trying to lose these silly notions. This was no negotiation between opponents. They were all friends working together towards a common goal. 

“Ser Barristan has accompanied the Princess to the Driftmark of course.” Ser Gerold remarked when he detected Jon eying them one by one.

Jon nodded. “Who will start?”

“Perhaps you should.” Davos spoke up. “Tell us briefly what happened at your end and we will do the same after.”

“Not too briefly” Ser Arthur objected. “I am rather curious.”

“Well,” Jon started to tell them in detail about Robb’s rescue and the reactions of the Northern Lords. He was briefer when he mentioned the murder of Lord Roose Bolton, Ramsay Snow’s execution and Domeric Bolton and Theon Greyjoy’s predicament. 

“That is all rather good news, my Prince.” Ser Oswell ventured. “You even got the Lords of the North to pledge their support to fight an enemy they don’t necessarily believe in.”

Jon nodded at Ser Oswell. “Uncle Benjen played his part. My cousin Robb deserves credit as well.” 

“You visited Winterfell next and then Eastwatch?” Davos encouraged them to move along. 

Jon looked over at Sam who was scribbling fervently. “Are you ready to tackle the next subject, Sam?”

“Don’t worry on my account. I am only recording some key words. I will fill out the rest from memory later.” Sam smiled encouragingly at Jon

Jon nodded appreciatively and proceeded to tell them of the welcome he had received at Eastwatch. He described Gendry’s enormous efforts and the crates of weapons. Then he moved on and told them about the plans he had made with Mance Rayder and the promises of reinforcement that surely were on their way to Hardhome by now led by Tormund and Sandor.

“I am glad the Night’s Watch has come to its senses. The ravens you sent us from Castle Black were reassuring as well in that regard at least.” Ser Gerold remarked.

“Did you really broker a truce with Prince Renly and later with Jaime Lannister?” Davos asked.

“I did.” Jon affirmed and recounted parts of his conversation with both men. Then he looked at Ser Arthur and smiled. “I beat him in a sparring session, if only barely. It was fun though. He fights well. I recognised your teachings.”

“I spent enough time polishing his style and would be disappointed if that was not the case. He was my most promising pupil before I started to teach you, my Prince.” Ser Arthur’s tone was serious.

“We were both lucky to have such an excellent teacher.” Jon nodded appreciatively to the knight.

“If you are done complementing each other, I am curious to hear what happened at Pyke and what concessions you made to the Greyjoys.” Davos interfered. “Your message was rather sparse, my Prince.”

“That is because there was hardly anything to tell. I would say everything went exactly according to plan for once, although not even our plans included the fact that they would surrender without putting up at least a semblance of a fight.” Jon looked at his Lord Commander.

“Didn’t you caution me time and time again to expect no fair play and to be prepared for nothing but absolute ruthlessness and cruelty from the Ironborn, Ser Gerold?”

Seeing Ser Gerold nod he continued. “The men stationed on Pyke had all gathered on the shore close to where the ships of Yara Greyjoy were planning to dock. It was a sight to be seen. The soldiers wearing the sigil of the Golden Company marched on the beach led by Yara Greyjoy. I flew over their heads as low as I dared with the two dragons. When Yara Greyjoy approached the ranks of the Ironborn loyal to Euron Greyjoy who had come out to defend Pyke, everyone expected their leader to step forward to negotiate. Instead his men all threw down their weapons, kneeled right there on the beach and swore fealty to her.”

“Just like that?” Sam had stopped scribbling and looked at Jon. “Because of your dragons?”

“Just like that.” Jon affirmed. “To be honest, I think neither the dragons, nor the presence of the fake Golden Company recruits had much to do with it. Rumours about Euron Greyjoy’s cruel treatment of his men had spread on Pyke and I think they all sought Yara Greyjoy’s protection from his wrath. It was rather anticlimactic. All that show and effort just for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. The rumours will help Strickland.” Ser Oswell remarked.

“You did sit down with Yara Greyjoy and make arrangements, I trust?” Davos asked his Prince. “Euron Greyjoy is still out there and will retaliate.”

“I want to know as well.” Ser Gerold stated still a bit chafed about being somewhat off with his initial evaluation of the threat.

“She is keeping tabs on her uncle’s whereabouts as she has been doing the entire time. He is still east of Westeros, far away from the Iron Islands. She is more worried about him doing something desperate and attacking us or King Robert than of him coming after her in the near future. There are rumours he is considering an alliance with the Stormlands.”

“Did she make any demands on us? Did she ask for her brother to be returned to her?” Ser Oswell was tapping his fingers on the table. Jon was amused to see he as hitting the exact spot where the Iron Islands were situated on the painted table.

“She asked.” Jon admitted. “Respectfully,” he added. “She cursed Theon when I told her what he had done to one of her allies. I even had to calm her down and describe to her the punishment he already suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow.”

“What was decided, Jon?” Davos asked the only question that mattered. It served no purpose to keep dwelling on Theon Greyjoy’s situation.

“She rescinded her demand. Theon would not be welcome on the Iron Island if the men learnt what had transpired. It would only be safe for him to return if he proved himself once more. She all but asked me to put him on the frontlines of one of my wars so he could redeem himself.”

“Ironborn.” Ser Gerold’s tone conveyed it all.

“Will Yara Greyjoy honour her part of the agreement and live of trade instead of raids?” Davos formulated his question more precisely since he still hadn’t learned the information he had asked for.

“I have her written word, Davos.” Jon looked at his hand. “I received it before I agreed to help her. I wrote you that already. There was no time and no need to discuss these things in detail again. I can send an ambassador over later once I have established my position in King’s Landing.”

“And then you lingered at Greywater Watch and had us all worried.” Ser Arthur changed the subject but not necessarily to an easier one for Jon. 

Once more all eyes were looking at him, everyone longing to hear what had caused the delay. Last night when Sam had mentioned the subject during supper, Jon’s expression had gone blank and he told his friend that an explanation was best left for another time. 

“It was not my initial intent to stay an extra day.” Jon responded after a significant pause. He sighed. “I reckoned I would still arrive before a raven with a message could reach you when I made the decision to stay a bit longer.”

“Why did you stay longer, Jon?” Sam repeated his question of the night before. He had dropped his quill and looked at his friend a worried expression on his face. “What did he see this time? Is it bad news?”

Jon looked at Sam and fought his reluctance to share the information. They all needed to know soon enough. There was no way around it. Better do it now and be done with it.

“It was not so much what Lord Reeds saw. I was summoned because of visions Bran, my little cousin received from the Gods and uh what I dreamt as well. We combined all our information and it was, uh how shall I put it.” Jon ran his hand over his face, “uh revealing, and at the same time raising more questions than ever.”

“Jon,” Davos friendly warning to get on with it coincided with Ser Gerold’s exasperated “My Prince!”

Jon frowned. “I’ll tell you. Just bear with me. I am still dealing with the enormity of it all and trying to make sense of some of it.”

He looked around and saw the expectation on their faces was still there but even Ser Gerold’s stern stare had softened. 

“First of all, the fight against the army of the dead that will happen near Hardhome soon will not be the final fight against this enemy. There is a place in the far north where their leader resides. A place protected by magic. This Commander of the White Walkers has sent half of his forces to confront us on the eastern shores. If we survive this battle, the final fight will take place after I am King. My vision was identical to Bran Stark’s. Only a King can defeat a King.”

Jon paused and noticed everyone was looking glum. When Ser Gerold wanted to interfere, Jon shook his head. “There is more.” He said simply and it was enough to make Ser Gerold keep silent.

“I had a vision myself. I am on the battle field wearing the same kingly armour complete with red rubies that my father, Prince Rhaegar wore according to your descriptions. I can’t see my army, only lots of ice and fire and I know I am about to face him. I do not know when it will happen, it might happen in six moons, ten years from now or even later, but it will happen in my lifetime at a time when I am recognised as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the protector of the realm. I didn’t see the outcome of the fight.” Jon stopped and waited for their reactions.

“Are we to understand this vision was not confirmed by anything young Bran or Lord Reed saw?” Davos looked dejected by all he had heard.

“Not that particular one no. Bran saw their leader only when he held the baby. He could confirm I was the hero born to defeat him. He also confirmed I would only have a chance once I was a King in my own right. He felt the exact same words as I did: ‘A King to defeat a King.’ He did see something that gives us leave to me hope. He had a vision of me, wearing a crown atop of grey curls. If that is true ...”

“The Gods be praised.” Ser Oswell exclaimed. “You should have led with that. If we know you will reign for many years then all of this, all this trouble with an undead enemy, is just a little delay on the road to our life’s goal.”

“Fifty thousand dead corpses all intent on murdering our future King so he will not take on their leader is not just a little delay. Not to mention he will need to return at some unknown time in the future and start all over again.” Ser Gerold reprimanded Ser Oswell.

“The dead have a King.” Sam mused thinking out loud apparently oblivious to the small altercation. “And he will fight you during the Long Night, in darkness. That would fit the northern tales. You fighting him with fire present, well Azor Ahai had a flaming sword. Both tales end with the hero defeating this mighty enemy, Jon.” His voice rose higher when he pronounced his last words and he looked up at the others with hope in his eyes.

“But this is no tale, Sam. This is fucking reality.” Jon heard himself swear but didn’t pause to apologise. “If I fail, if I make one stupid mistake.” He shuddered. “Then there is my cousin’s vision of me attending King Robert’s deathbed.”

“Come again?” Davos leaned across the table covering Lannisport with his weather worn hands.

“That was the primary reason they summoned me. Bran had a greendream of King Robert lying in a bed in his royal chambers. The man was dying. My uncle, Ned Stark was in attendance but had his head bowed. Bran could not distinguish whether he was older than he is now. But more troublesome, Bran described a young man kneeling on the ground holding the King’s hand in his. Since he was positioned on the opposite side of the bed, Bran Stark could only see his back.”

“Then it is not certain it was you.” Ser Arthur ventured.

“I asked my little cousin to describe what the man was wearing. He saw my black curls. He described my coat including the pattern on my fur collar. He even told me the colour of my belt and my boots. It was me. Somehow, I cannot explain how or why but somehow I feel deep down that this will come to pass, that I will be part of that scene. My cousin outdid himself with his description. I am certain it was me.”

Jon voice was getting desperate. He looked at Davos with beseeching eyes. “I was holding the King’s hand and knelt before him. It was me. I know it was me.” He repeated.

“Calm down, son.” Davos said his voice soothing. He had resumed his former position and leaned against the back of his chair. “Let us just try to look at this from all angles.” A deep frown appeared on his forehead. He looked deep in thought.”

Everyone waited for him to speak.

“Let us first concentrate on all the positives. If the vision proves true, your uncle Ned is still alive when the King is on his death bed. We have been worried about his safety lately. You should hear the rumours in King’s Landing. We are cutting it close, Jon if you are still going to give the fight at Hardhome precedence.”

Sam looked up now. “Of what did he die? Do you now that, Jon? Was he sick, was he attacked, did he have an accident?”

“How would I know, Sam? I told you all I know. Except for the fact that the King had a night cap covering his hair.” 

“Just asking.” Sam muttered. “What other positives do you derive from this situation, Ser Davos?”

“Well, our Prince arrived at the Red Keep alive and well and apparently was on was good terms with the Baratheon King.” Noticing Jon’s questioning look he added. “Kneeling besides a man’s deathbed and holding his hand is most likely an act of compassion, not one of a subject swearing fealty to a monarch, my Prince.”

“Of course he would never submit to the Baratheon usurper!” Ser Oswell remarked.

“He might to save the lives of his loved ones, even of the smallfolk.” Ser Arthur remarked looking at his brothers. “We all know our Prince’s kind heart.”

“But we do not know how far away in the future this might happen or whether this might come to pass so literally.” Sam cautioned. “Lord Reed often warns us not to take these things literally. This particular vision was one only young Bran Stark experienced right? Can it be your cousin confused a common dream with a greendream?” Sam turned to Jon looking a bit apologetic for daring to suggest such a thing.

“Not in this instance. My cousin had several visions at once. That one occurred midway through uh during several flashes that leave no doubt it was no ordinary dream. Besides, you feel the difference between a normal dream and a greendream. Trust me on that. I know this all too well.” 

Sam nodded. “Just asking. I wanted to make sure. Then we better try to derive the most of it.”

“Perhaps our Prince has already been crowned King and Robert Baratheon is a captive, dying of his injuries sustained when he was overthrown. Our compassionate Prince has agreed to let him spend his last hours in his own quarters.” Ser Arthur suggested.

“That doesn’t feel right somehow.” Jon muttered. “Anyway, all these revelations and subsequent feelings and premonitions I had about this made me accept the offer of Lord Reed to learn some techniques to encourage and prolong these so-called messages from the Gods send me personally. That is the reason I stayed a whole day longer.”

“You said Bran had several visions during a single session. Anything else we should know about?” Davos wanted to know.

Jon glad to focus on something else released a deep breath. “Perhaps. Bran was kind of an eye witness to a scene from the past where Littlefinger handed a small bottle with Tears of Lys, the poison that killed Lord Arryn over to Lady Lysa. The fact that he mentioned the poison by name makes me believe it might be a warning from the Gods. Perhaps Varys should make sure Maester Pycelle does not have other bottles of that stuff lying around for someone to use. He should be forbidden to make more.”

“I’ll write to Varys today.” Sam promised. “That is indeed a wise precaution. Perhaps we should regulate the use of poison by royal decree once you are King, Jon.”

“You can regulate all you want. Prince Oberyn will not be bothered by it in the least.” Ser Arthur remarked. 

Several surprised pair of eyes now stared at Ser Arthur.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know he sometimes dabbles with potions and poisons for all kinds of purposes.” He added rolling his eyes.

“We have issues enough to handle for now. No use in wasting time debating royal decrees to be issued in the future. Besides Prince Oberyn is firmly on our side.” Davos interfered. “Anything else you learned at Greywater Watch, Jon?”

“Aside from telling me how in love my parents were and how lovely my mother looked on her wedding day and the confirmation that the Mad King indeed threatened the capital’s destruction by wildfire as Jaime Lannister told me, there was this vision of the leader of the White Walkers.”

“The Night King,” Sam offered.

“Night King?” Jon turned to his friend.

“Well, you said it yourself. A King to defeat a King and he is a creature that is strongest at night and wants to bring the Long Night. So I thought it an easier term than the Commander of the White Walkers or the General of the Dead.” Sam smiled hesitantly.

“All right, let us call him the Night King.” Jon granted Sam this small victory. “Now back to Bran’s vision. This Night King had a healthy baby boy in his arms and touched the child’s cheek with an icy finger upon which the child became an icy creature with blue eyes.”

“A baby wight?” Ser Oswell asked perplexed.

“No not a wight. More like a baby White Walker.” Jon explained. 

“Craster’s male offspring!” Davos thumped his fist on the table making Lannisport shake. “I bet most of these White Walkers are related to that vile daughter-rapist.”

“So are you saying that if they do not kill humans, they can turn them into icy creatures like themselves?” Ser Arthur asked.

“I think so, but hopefully only this Night King has such strong magic.” Jon hesitated to say more.

“Perhaps they can only do it with new-borns.” Sam ventured. “They still have a clean slate, haven’t learned any behaviour yet, do not have a memory or the awareness to recognise an enemy and protect their minds.”

“That knowledge doesn’t really help us though.” Ser Gerold shook his head.

“Perhaps it does.” Davos told him. “It reveals a weakness. They cannot procreate. Their numbers are limited.”

“And the Free Folk should protect their new-borns.” Sam chimed in.

“That reminds me, Tormund just became a father. He has a son and calls him Jon.” Jon smiled. 

“I am trying to picture it.” Ser Arthur spoke up, his eyes having a faraway look. “A tiny redhaired baby in those giant hands.

“He had no qualms in grabbing it from its mother’s arms and didn’t lower his voice, both acts startling the small baby and Tormund’s only reaction was to laugh proudly when his son started crying rather loudly. It was indeed an uncommon picture.” Jon relaxed glad for the short reprieve.

“Have you finished your report, my Prince? You can tell us more about Tormund’s child later, or during mealtime. Any other visions?” Ser Gerold prodded.

“Nothing that affects our cause.” Jon answered. “I think that concludes my report. The important thing is that I need to get back to Eastwatch or rather Hardhome and help prepare the traps before the enemy arrives. Can you hold the fort here for another moon?”

“Eddard Stark will not be best pleased, Varys neither.”

“You can include me on that list.” Ser Gerold remarked. “My Prince, the rumours are growing. We have gathered plenty of support. Give us two more sennights and we will have support in abundance for you in King’s Landing as well as organised a line of defense within the walls of the Red Keep itself. Are you sure you cannot not take the throne and return to the North as the newly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms? Perhaps you can challenge this Night King right there and then, make him come out of hiding and defeat this enemy once and for all.”

“What if complications arise? What if I am crowned, leave the next day and we cannot appease the smallfolk, the nobles who are still deciding? What if Stannis Baratheon uses my absence to his advantage?”

“I am inclined to agree with our Prince.” Davos challenged Ser Gerold’s suggestion. “According to me the best case scenario is that our Prince flies north and defeats the fifty thousand that are attacking. Then he returns within two sennights from leaving and takes the throne. We all help him secure the Seven Kingdoms. All the while, the Free Folk monitor the situation beyond the Wall and we fight against this Night King and his army with the combined support of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“We need not decide this very minute.” Jon tried to make them see reason and continue the meeting. “Fill me in on the political situation here first. I expect Varys to arrive within the next few days. Perhaps everything will work itself out. They are distracted in King’s Landing since they are in the midst of preparing a large tournament, aren’t they?” Jon asked Ser Gerold.

“They are. It was a good cover for us to invite more allies into the city without raising suspicion.” Ser Gerold took out a scroll and began enumerating the extent of the support already in place and what they were still working on.

Jon did his best trying to follow the major names but some were entirely new to him. “Perhaps we can go over them the next few days in detail? I want to study the background and allies of each one of them so I know how to comport myself when I meet them.”

“Commendable.” Davos nodded his head in apparent approval. “We will all help you with the ones we know best. We hail from different parts of Westeros. Use it to your advantage.”

“Yohn Royce can’t leave the capital but will send a delegation of the Riverlands to meet you.” Ser Oswell remarked. “We will need to be careful. All these nobles we are expecting over the next few days might be spotted.”

“That has been arranged. Some are supposedly visiting relatives, the others are coming to the Driftmark or Dragonstone under the pretext that they heard the blacksmiths here are competent and the ones in King’s Landing can’t keep up with the extra business of all the knights either shopping for the right armour for the tournament or needing some adjustments made to their current armour at the last moment.”

“The tournament,” Jon asked clearly interested. “When will it be held?”

“Don’t even think about it, lad.” Davos shook his head. “We already had to talk sense into Ser Arthur. He wanted to participate as mystery guest in a disguise. He talked of painting his hair blue and posing as an Essosi knight.”

“I was only joking.” Ser Arthur muttered.

“For the most part perhaps.” Ser Gerold retorted. “Don’t tell us you wouldn’t go the moment you thought you could get away with it.”

“Can’t he though?” Jon looked thoughtful.

“No, Jon.” Ser Arthur was the one to put an end to his own dreams. “I would be recognised the first time they saw me fight. I do not want to boast but, …”

“I get it.” Jon said. “You are right. Eighteen years is not that long and you were, I mean are a legend. You only have to wait for the first tournament under the new Targaryen reign. I promise not to compete myself. Wouldn’t want to compromise your chances. ” Jon said that last sentence in a mocking tone.

Ser Gerold rolled his eyes. “I can still beat either of you in the joust easily. And don’t forget Ser Oswell’s achievements. Now, can we get back to the order of the day? Let us finish discussing the situation in King’s Landing. We can talk about the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne another day.”

“And go over the lists of the support we expect from the Kingdoms that have already joined our cause.” Davos chimed in.

“And hope there is still some daylight left by the time we finish so I can visit my dragons.” Jon whispered to Sam. 

“And before my fingers start cramping around this quill.” Sam whispered back and both young men exchanged smiles.

“King’s Landing then,” Jon addressed Davos now. “Tell me about Uncle Ned. How are he and the King governing my Kingdoms?”

“Perhaps we should wait and discuss this when Varys is here. I expect him the day after tomorrow. Then we have a firsthand report.” Davos suggested.

Jon nodded gratefully. “Excellent. Then we can adjourn this meeting after the announcement I still wanted to make.” 

Everyone looked at him expectantly. 

“First of all, tomorrow I am not available for any meetings, be it a small council meeting or private audiences with recently arrived Lords and their families. I still intend to show up for my daily training session but afterwards I will accompany Princess Daenerys when she makes her rounds of the workshops here on Dragonstone. I will also visit the ships, meet with some of the crew. I also intend to partake in the evening entertainment of the smallfolk. The bonfires on the beach.” He added when Ser Gerold frowned. “I will remain alert and you can all come along if you deem it necessary for my protection.”

“Count me in.” Davos looked interested.

“I will go as well.” Sam had stopped scribbling a while ago.

“And secondly, you may all congratulate me. The Princess Daenerys and I are betrothed. I asked her to marry me yesterday before supper and she accepted.” Jon smiled broadly but his eyes were observing the reaction to his words closely.

“Damn,” Ser Oswell cursed.

“Who won the bet?” Ser Gerold frowned. 

“Varys, I think,” Davos answered and chuckled. “Come on you twats, stop teasing and congratulate the boy already. He only gets betrothed to a lovely Princess once.”

Chairs scraped over the stone floor when they all got up and hurried to the side of the table where Jon now beamed from ear to ear. He had never thought his announcement would be that easily accepted. The moment he got pulled from his chair and was caught in his first embrace he realised Sam was nowhere to be seen.  
Davos mushed up his hair, Ser Gerold patted his back, Ser Oswell shook his hand enthusiastically and Ser Arthur hugged him within an inch of his life.”

“If you need any advice, don’t go to these knights, lad. Just come to me. I can tell you all you need to know and then some.” Davos chuckled.

When they finally retreated to their side of the table Jon's eyes turned back to the door and was relieved to see Sam returning. His friend carried a platter containing a pitcher filled with ale and five large beakers. 

“I thought this merited a toast and I brought Jon’s drink of choice.” He smiled happily.

“Put that thing down, Sam. You owe me a congratulatory hug.” Jon ordered.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He asked Ser Arthur to do the honours and the two friends embraced.  
“I wish you all the luck in the realm, Jon. I am very happy for you. Does anyone else know?”

“Aside from Dany who might have told Ser Barristan, no. Some might suspect but nobody has been told. We will not announce it yet. Dany and I want to marry after the Iron Throne has been restored to House Targaryen.”

Jon looked at Davos when he said the next words. “We had been thinking to hold a joint wedding/coronation ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor. I will marry her before the Old Gods and a few witnesses in the Godswood the night before of course. We mean to keep that part private. You are all welcome to join us of course but don’t spread the word.”

“My, my, how long have you been planning this?” Ser Gerold exclaimed. “Too bad though. If you had acted a bit sooner, I might have won the bet.

 

***

That afternoon Jon sat on the throne where many a Prince of Dragonstone had held court and gestured for the first visitors to be allowed to enter the Great Hall. This time, the Great Hall was empty except for Ser Arthur who stood before the throne slightly to Jon’s right, Ser Oswell identically positioned to his left and the houseguards posted at every entrance. The large doors opened and an elderly man accompanied by a middle aged couple approached and bowed before the steps of his throne.

After leaving the room with the painted table, Jon had opted to lunch quietly in his quarters with only Sam for company. Sam had used the opportunity to brief him about the visitors that would be brought before him that afternoon. The first ones to have been granted an audience with the Prince of Dragonstone was Lord Celtigar, head of House Celtigar of Claw Isle. Sam had informed him how the elderly man was connected to Jon’s foster-grandmother.

“The current Lord Celtigar is named after his ancestor, Alton Celtigar who served as Hand of the King to Aegon the Conqueror. Your foster-grandfather was his uncle but as you know your foster-grandfather was only a third son and left Claw Isle when he married the daughter of Lord Velaryon. The young Lord opted to live with his wife at the Driftmark. House Celtigar of Claw Isle is a very rich house. What might interest you is that they possess an axe of Valyrian steel. The Lord is accompanied by his son Adrian Celtigar and his good-daughter. Apparently the couple has five children four girls and one boy but the children stayed behind on Claw Isle.”

Jon straightened his back and closely studied the approaching elderly Lord looking for some resemblance with the vague picture he had of his foster-grandfather who had died when Jon was still rather young.

“Lord Alton Celtigar at your service, my King.” The frail looking Lord bowed and needed his son’s help to regain his normal standing position. 

“Allow me to present my son, Lord Adrian Celtigar and his wife Elinda formerly of House Massey.” 

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Celtigar. It is nice to meet relatives of my foster-grandparents. But please, address me as ‘my Prince’ for now. I am not a King yet.” Jon was getting a bit tired of hearing himself repeat this sentence here at Dragonstone. He should ask Davos, or Sam to warn the visitors of the correct way that he wished to be addressed for now.

“If we had known you needed sanctuary so shortly after you were born, we would have been glad to take you in, my Prince. We would have given you surroundings fit for a King instead of”

“I was happy and could live in complete anonymity at the Driftmark.” Jon cut him off before the man could disparage the loving home he had found at the Driftmark. “It was a very good solution. An ideal spot to raise my dragons and the people there were and still are extremely loyal to me. It is in the past anyway and everything turned out well.” Jon’s polite smile was a bit forced.

“What is done is done.” Lord Celtigar agreed. “If there is anything we can do to contribute to your cause now, just say the word. All we have is at your disposal.” 

“That is a very generous offer. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I thank you Lord Celtigar. Now tell me, is it true that House Celtigar is the owner of a magnificent axe made of Valyrian steel?” Jon leaned a bit forward.

“We are, your Grace. But we have much more beautiful treasures. I have brought a few rubies as a gift to decorate your armour. That way it can be just like your father’s, Prince Rhaegar.” 

The head of House Celtigar handed Ser Arthur a small velvet bag and Ser Arthur in turn approached his Prince and handed him the precious objects. Jon put one ruby in the palm of his hand to admire it up close. It was a thing of beauty and there were at least eight similar stones inside the small pouch. He wondered how rich House Celtigar actually was. 

“I thank you, Lord Celtigar. I appreciate the thoughtfulness even more than the beauty of the gift. “I will make sure they will adorn my armour and will ask the blacksmith to incorporate them in my new armour in the exact same spots as red rubies that once adorned the armour of my excellent father.”

Jon put the ruby back with the others in the velvet pouch and handed it to Ser Arthur again. 

“Might I ask for a favour, Lord Celtigar? Would you be willing to send for the axe? I would like to admire it up close.”

His son frowned when Jon made the request but the elderly Lord Celtigar once more made a painfully looking bow and promised to send a raven to Claw Isle immediately.

At that moment, footsteps echoed in the Great Hall and Jon looked up to see Davos approach his throne and mount the steps. The knight whispered in his Prince’s ear that it was time to receive the next delegation. 

Jon rose from his throne to signal the end of the interview. “I hope you have a pleasant stay at Dragonstone, my Lords and my Lady. I am sorry to cut the interview short but several others are awaiting an audience with me.” 

The elder Lord Celtigar, his son and the latter’s wife bowed one last time to the Targaryen Prince and followed Davos who led the way to the large doors.

Lord Daeron Vaith , Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway request an audience, my Prince,” Davos announced when the next visitors entered.

 

***

 

 

**Interlude 30: The Viper and the Queen of Thorns**

 

Prince Oberyn looked forward to getting off the ship. This was the last time he travelled this far by boat if he could help it. He had already run out of most of his jokes and stunts to tease his fellow passengers before they were even halfway. The captain had reprimanded him and warned the Prince more than once that nobody would be willing to keep him company anymore if he kept up his current behaviour. Oberyn had tried to act a bit more circumspect for the rest of the journey and with the exception of a limited number of rewarding pranks he had mostly kept his word even if as a result he had been bored as the Seven Hells. 

He fondly remembered using one of his potions to remove the inhibitions of his fellow travellers on their first evenings on the boat and had learned many secrets. A bonus had been that he had also discovered a potential male lover that way and had at least been able to satisfy his carnal needs during his long forced confinement. Not having much in way of other distractions, the Prince had finished every book he had brought with him in no time and had swindled his co-travellers out of the ones they had brought along. 

Finally things were looking up now. They had almost arrived. He looked forward to his reunion with Ellaria, his paramour. He was sure she would be eagerly awaiting his arrival as well. He had sent word to Varys by means of one of the special ravens he had brought along with him on the ship. 

Almost instantly he had regretted his decision of travelling directly to King’s Landing to win a few meagre days. The better choice would have been to travel alongside Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur. They at least could have kept him entertained with stories of their years with the Targaryen Prince. Prince Oberyn for some reason had grown very fond of the young man. He had been counting the days until he could leave this floating trap behind and could start helping the Targaryen cause again. The opportunity came sooner than expected.

Finally safely moored at the docks of the capital, he had not taken more than a few steps ashore before he was accosted by a servant. The man offered to take his bags and promised to escort him and his belongings to an inn where a Lady waited for him. Prince Oberyn only too willing to accept his offer nodded with a broad smile on his face and asked the servant to hurry.

The smile left his face the very moment he entered the small establishment. Instead of falling into the long awaited loving arms of his paramour, he looked into the wrinkled face and cunning eyes of the Queen of Thorns.

“Please be seated, Prince Oberyn. I ordered the finest wine available in this establishment. Please join me. We need to talk.” 

Lady Olenna Tyrell sat on a modest looking chair, her back straight, her elaborate dress carefully arranged about her, her hand leaning stately on an exquisite carved walking stick. Prince Oberyn took in her stately posture making the mental note that she treated the simple wooden chair exactly as she would the Iron Throne. _‘Not that the old shrew would ever get near it. Certainly not while he drew breath!’_

“My Lady, although you may be right, forgive me for being blunt and state my disappointment. I was looking for someone else to greet me after such a long voyage. Can our encounter not be delayed for a day at least so I can greet my paramour who is bound to be even more eager to see me than you are.” He needed all his self-control to mask the extent of his dismay and disillusionment.

“Sit down, Prince Oberyn. If you keep standing about like that you are causing an old lady a stiff neck.” When she saw him stiffen at her commanding tone, she changed tactics. 

“Come now, this won’t take long. The sooner you sit down, the sooner you can leave here and find … her.” She wrinkled her nose and sniffed disapprovingly.

Prince Oberyn ignored the slight being used to people condemning his long standing affair with a Dornish bastard. “I might as well grant you your request and will even admit to being curious. I didn’t know we were on such good terms for you to go to such great length as to seek me out at the docks.” 

He sat down and accepted a glass of wine. “Just the one glass though,” he warned her and took a sip.

“This is indeed excellent wine. Much better than what I was forced to drink on the ship. May I enquire as to how you knew I was arriving today?” He sat back. Now that he had decided to oblige her, he was already looking for ways to play with her and to get some naughty pleasure out of this encounter.

“Varys was so kind as to answer my questions. On this subject at least.” She pursed her lips. Clearly Varys had not done her the courtesy of obliging her very often.

“Now what can I do for you, Lady Tyrell? As stated, I have not much time for inanities.” He studied her closely. She seemed tense somehow and he was sure it was not solely caused by the elusiveness of the Master of Whisperers. Surely she must be long used to the eunuch’s elusive ways.

“I gather you have met my grandsons in the North. I just want you to tell me what is going on over there and why my Loras is so intent on staying there. Has he found a new flame?”

“I had the pleasure to meet both your grandsons at Winterfell. I hardly recognised them. Our houses do not frequent each other all that regularly, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled charmingly.

Prince Oberyn could see small hints of her building irritation. The knuckles of her left hand holding her cane had turned white, her other hand was clenching the cup filled with wine to the brim a bit too tight. He hoped the innkeeper had used his sturdiest beaker. On the other hand, perhaps he should wish for the opposite? He needed to conceal his smile at the image of her crushing the beaker and spilling the red wine on her lavish, old fashioned but rather expensive looking gown.

“I thought you had no time for games, Prince Oberyn.” She had narrowed her eyes slightly. “Do you have any idea what is so interesting in the North that Loras is so adamant to stay there? At least Willas has recently left Winterfell and is on his way home.”  
Prince Oberyn tapped his lower lip with his finger pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, as far as I know, Prince Renly is in the North. Isn’t that incentive enough for your youngest grandson to stay put?”

“Why were you in the North, Prince Oberyn? I do not tell me some bullshit about travelling and sightseeing. Are you man enough to come out and declare that you are in league with House Stark?” She had put her cup down rather forcefully without having taken even the tiniest sip. A bit of red liquid stained the otherwise pristine white cloth the innkeeper must have brought out on her demand because the other tables wore no such cover.

“I consider myself a friend of House Stark. But mind you, I speak for myself. I speak neither for my brother nor for the Principality of Dorne.” He enjoyed reminding her that her sons were mere Lords as opposed to the princely status of House Martell.

“Why did you befriend House Stark if your brother does not follow suit?” The reply was curt but Oberyn could sense her frustration, it was almost tangible.

“Haven’t your grandsons written to you about some of what is happening in the North? Hasn’t Varys or Lord Stark been able to persuade you of the merit of an alliance with House Stark yet? Are you really so headstrong, so unwilling to take a small risk? Are you so blind you cannot see a once in a lifetime opportunity when it presents itself?” He challenged her.

She merely waved away his barbs and proceeded with her interrogation. “Have you heard of a certain Lord Celtigar my grandsons have encountered in the North?” 

“Of course I have. He is a most amiable young man. I have known him for several years now.” Prince Oberyn smiled making a show of giving her the impression that he was reminiscing and it were all rather delightful memories that he conjured up.

“Did you see him during your recent visit in the North?” She asked tersely glaring at him without blinking.

“As a matter of fact, I did have that pleasure.” He drew his words out. Prince Oberyn no longer regretted being held up by Lady Olenna. He was starting to enjoy himself immensely. He drank deeply from his cup, put the almost empty beaker slowly back on the table and smiled indulgingly at her.

“My Loras has sworn his life away to that man.” Lady Olenna answered after a pause. He could hear the exasperation in her voice.

“I wouldn’t call it that, my Lady. I never thought I would say this but your youngest grandson is the smarter Tyrell apparently. Before hearing this news, I would have put my coins on Willas.” 

“Why are you so sure that Loras did a smart thing?” She had toned down the bitch act somewhat. Prince Oberyn might even have witnessed the early stages of pleading.

“I can’t tell you much. You should ask your grandsons. What I can tell you is that Lord Celtigar is an honourable man. Don’t be misled by his name. What matters is that he is closely allied to House Stark. And for some reason, his word carries weight with the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark. He has many allies, many powerful friends and I am proud to call him a dear personal friend.” He had talked to her as a teacher would to a student, his attitude bordering on being condescending.

“And apparently Loras and Willas both fell for his schemes.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in her tone of voice now.

“Why do you think the man is scheming? Not everyone is like you and me.” He responded. “Did you not hear me when I told you he is most honourable? Hells, if you saw him, you might mistake him for a scion of House Stark.”

He cursed himself inwardly the moment these words left his lips. He saw her facial expression change. The cunning look appeared once more though she tried to mask it with her next words. 

“This Lord Celtigar has persuaded Loras somehow to give him precedence above his own house.” She once more accused the Lord she had never met.

“Knowing this Lord Celtigar, and make no mistake, I know him well, he will never ask Loras to turn against his kin. All this time playing the game, Lady Olenna and you are still on the fence.” Prince Oberyn shook his head in mock disappointment. “Tut, tut, tut, I would have expected more of you. I reckon your granddaughter still isn’t betrothed? No? Nor are any of your grandsons?” He shook his head and took delight in the deep frown that appeared on her already rather wrinkled forehead.

“Be wary, indecision like that might make you miss some excellent opportunities. Soon it will be too late, Lady Olenna. And here I thought you were known as the Lady of Thorns. Old age has finally caught up with you it seems.” He mocked her to his heart’s content.

Lady Olenna narrowed her eyes until they were mere slits. “Have you talked to Lord Eddard Stark?”

“Not in some time, my Lady. I have been confined on a floating prison with boring company for sennights. If you do not mind, I will take my leave from you now so I can go find my dear Ellaria. I sincerely hope her welcome will be a bit warmer and consist of fewer words.” He smiled suggestively at her and rose with feline grace.

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture no longer making the effort to disguise her dismay at the outcome of their discussion.

Prince Oberyn bowed and left the inn knowing he had revealed just enough to let her know he was in on a big secret. He hoped he had managed to convey the impression that if she felt left out, it was all her own doing. Perhaps that would finally wake her up and accept an alliance with House Stark. She needed to take Margaery off the market before she ever learned the true identity of Lord Celtigar.

 

***

 

Ellaria’s arms had been welcoming, very welcoming indeed and it had taken him two days before he made the effort to present himself at the court of the usurper. He had stayed just long enough to publicly accept the position on the small council in front of Robert Baratheon and a packed throne room before announcing he needed a sennight or perhaps two before he was able to attend his new duties. When the King ordered him to explain himself further, Prince Oberyn had smiled demurely and stated some personal matters needed to be seen to first since he had spent moons travelling the Northern Kingdom. Surely his Grace would understand?

The Dornish Prince and his paramour had left King’s Landing, and had stepped on a small boat he had hired solely for this purpose, not disclosing to anyone where they went until they had left the harbour. Varys was the only one who knew of his destination. The Master of Whisperers had given him many messages to read from the True King. Prince Oberyn had also been tasked to relay that Lord Varys would follow him to Dragonstone in two days’ time.

Prince Aegon would be delighted to hear the steps he had undertaken to provide an adequate teacher for the Arya Stark. Instead of offering up one of his Sand Snakes, he had sent for the former First Sword of Braavos. He knew that the master fencer’s water dancing style would suit the little cousin of the Targaryen Prince very well. Even more important, Syrio Forel would have no qualms in teaching a little girl as long as she was properly motivated and he was adequately recompensed for it. He had written Robb Stark to warn him of the swordfighter’s arrival.

_To Robb of House Stark, heir of Winterfell, temporary regent of the North_  
_Lord Stark,_  
_Soon Syrio Forel, an Essosi master fencer with extraordinary credits will be knocking on the gates of Winterfell. I have hired him to teach your lady sister, Arya Stark a swordfighting style best suited to her physique. This was done on the express demand of Lord Celtigar. If your Lady Mother objects, tell her our mutual royal friend will have no trouble persuading your Lord Father and Hand of the King that your youngest sister would thrive in Dorne and that he will most surely persuade Lord Eddard Stark to send her little Arya for a long fostering term to Dorne with immediate effect._  
_Prince Oberyn of House Martell, the Red Viper_

This time Oberyn didn’t mind being trapped on a boat once again. It was only for two days and Ellaria would see to it he hardly noticed his surroundings anyway. Besides, he would soon see Prince Aegon again and also his dear youth friend, Ser Arthur. In the meanwhile he mulled over all he had learned from Varys and the contents of the Targaryen Prince’s messages. Ripples of the rumours caused by the revelations after Robb’s rescue were reaching the capital. Soon the usurper would learn of a dragonrider that had a claim to the Iron Throne but more importantly that his former betrothed had been the one to give Prince Rhaegar this precious son. The conspiracy was living on borrowed time. 

It was a challenge but Prince Oberyn would do everything he could to buy the Targaryen Prince the necessary time to be able to conclude his quest in the North. He had already come up with a few possible schemes and conferred with Varys. The eunuch had been on board straightaway with one of the more daring versions of his scheme, confessing he had been preparing a similar plan in secret. 

They both were of the opinion it was better to do this on their own and inform neither Prince Aegon nor his entourage. They also would make certain they took any measure necessary to prevent the Hand of the King from catching the slightest hint of what they were preparing. If all went well, the honourable Targaryen Prince and the stiff morally correct Hand of the King would be happy with the outcome and never know the true extent of the involvement of the ones they trusted as their closest allies. 

And Prince Oberyn counted himself as Prince Aegon’s closest ally. Someone needed to protect the young idealistic, honourable Targaryen Prince from himself. Every ruler needed someone to take care of the dirtier business. And what Prince Aegon didn’t know, wouldn’t keep him up at night. It also provided the True King with the opportunity to deny any accusations levied at him with absolute honesty. He wouldn’t have to feign his outrage at such accusations. Nobody would suspect that dear boy of foul play. It would all turn out for the best. The young Targaryen should bless the day Prince Oberyn of House Martell condescended to join his cause. That had been a very lucky day for all involved.

One small thing he had already put in motion without waiting for Varys’ advice. A trusted messenger, one of the team of messengers that had been carrying out little errands for the conspiracy over the years, had been dispatched to intercept Willas Tyrell. Prince Oberyn hoped the man was able to reach the port of the Riverlands in time. It would be very opportune to catch up with the Tyrell heir at Seagard. 

He stood at the railing with his arm around Ellaria’s shoulder when the rough coastline of Dragonstone came into view. The Gods had been good lately to Prince Oberyn. And if he had any say in it, things would only get better from here on out. The days of the usurper’s reign were finally up.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter covers Jon’s last days on Dragonstone before flying north to battle against the dead.  
> In the interlude, Yohn Royce assists with tournament preparations in King’s Landing


	31. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s enjoys a few days of respite on Dragonstone before he will need to fly north to battle the dead.  
> Yohn Royce assistance is needed for more than just tournament preparations in King’s Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Thank you all for sticking with me and for those who took the time to comment, thank you very much for the respectful and kind way you all approach me.
> 
> Also as always I can't post a chapter without thanking my beta Ravenousreadr for her patience and encouragement. Thanks my friend.

*

“At long last I found you.” 

Prince Oberyn unceremoniously dropped down in the empty spot next to Jon. It was the exact same spot that had just been abandoned by Princess Daenerys. Jon’s Kingsguards sat a bit further and kept Sam and Ser Davos company. They had all agreed to give the young couple some semblance of privacy even though Ser Gerold’s eyes never wandered far from the location where his Prince was seated casually on the grass. The young couple had mingled amongst the smallfolk at first but after some time had retreated to a more secluded spot where they had been holding hands and sitting close to each other clearly enjoying this small break in their otherwise busy schedule. 

“You found me some time ago and waited until Princess Daenerys left me alone for a while.” Jon answered not looking at Prince Oberyn, his eyes following Dany who was walking away from him to chat with a few girls of the village. 

As planned, they were all spending the evening on the beach and had joined the smallfolk’s daily evening reunion. There was a kind of system in place that allowed twenty of these loyal simple folk to feast in the Great Hall. Sam had appointed a retired knight to organise this so that everyone got his fair turn. As long as the weather held, the rest of them preferred to join the now daily evening gatherings on the beach.

“Guilty.” The Dornish Prince chuckled. “You do realise a bunch of very disappointed Lords are feasting in the Great Hall eating a delicious stew of I don’t know what meat and drinking fine Dornish red. What have you eaten here?”

“A rabbit I shot myself and some fish that was offered to me. All roasted over the fire to perfection. I was not missing out on anything.” Jon smiled now and turned to face the Dornish Prince who in his colourful long coat seemed more out of place than Jon who blended in with the smallfolk wearing the dark worn out training outfit he had put on before venturing out on the beach.

“Not even a taste of this Dornish red? I can tell you I only brought the best. You just have to taste its rich flavour. It is a bit sour I grant you but that is the way real wine should be. Ladies favour sweet liquor. Us men prefer to have a stronger taste and effect. I heard you were an ale man mostly. Then you will prefer this wine to the sweeter Arbor Gold.”

“You had me convinced with your second sentence, Prince Oberyn. Just pour me a cup already.” Jon chuckled.

“Only if you omit the title and call me Oberyn. You are no longer a child and we are both Princes, at least for now. Soon you’ll need to get used to being called your Grace by all and sundry. For now, I will be so bold as to call you Aegon, or do you prefer Jon?”

“I’ll leave the choice to you. I’d understand if it would seem strange to you to call me by the name that you once called your nephew.” Jon’s eyes searched Oberyn’s for a sign of unease.

“I would mind if it were anyone else. But you, you have proven yourself worthy of his name, Aegon.” For once Prince Oberyn’s eyes looked one hundred percent serious and honest.

“Thank you. That is high praise indeed. And please whether I am Prince or King, whatever happens, in private you’ll always be allowed to address me without a title. You have earned that right.”

Jon held out his cup and Prince Oberyn filled it from the pitcher he had stolen from the castle’s kitchen earlier. “How have you been, Oberyn?”

“Bored as hell on the long journey by ship but glad to be back to my scheming. I was wondering if I could attend the small council meeting tomorrow afternoon. I heard Lord Varys will arrive in the course of the morning. I’d love to sit in on that meeting.”

“Then you are very welcome to join us. I’ll have them send for you.” Jon agreed to his request readily.

“Thanks.” Oberyn looked around and saw the smallfolk respected their privacy but were still present on the beach in large numbers. He had observed the Prince from afar long before Aegon had noticed his presence. The young man had been sitting leisurely in a circle of simple people, his arms around Princess Daenerys, occasionally stealing a kiss from her but all the same, laughing and joking with carpenters and farmers as if he was one of them. 

“You are a true Prince of the people. You take it even further than my dear friend, your father, Prince Rhaegar. I wonder how that will go over with the noble Lords once you are crowned King.” Oberyn remarked.

“There are more smallfolk than noble Lords in Westeros, Oberyn. If I am going to be a just ruler, I will have to look out for the interest of these people. I’ll respect all the Princes and Lords of the realm as long as they don’t abuse the smallfolk.” Jon looked into his cup admiring the colour of the wine.

“Oh, to be young and still have ideals.” Prince Oberyn commented. “I remember when I was young. I thought I freed some of the servants who according to my childish standards were being exploited by my father. A moon later my father ordered me to come with him and we rode to this village half a day’s ride from the palace. He forced me to observe the people from afar for some time. He had brought me there to show me how the families of the men I freed fromtheir so-called forced labour were starving since they were deprived of the food and shelter their work had entitled them to.” 

He looked at the Targaryen Prince and his eyes grew more serious.

“Aegon, I know not everything is as black and white as this example, but make it too easy on the smallfolk and they will grow lazy thinking they are entitled to be looked after by you without having to do anything in return. If we don’t all play our part, the realm will crumble.” 

“Don’t worry. I learned from a young age that everyone needs to play their role for a society to thrive. Lord Reed explained that most of the servants and smallfolk find fulfillment in hard work and take pride in receiving appreciation from their Lord. It defines them, gives them a sense of self-worth, something to strive toward. Noble Lords that take their roles seriously work hard as well. They are responsible for the well-being of an entire community. My foster-father was very thorough in his lessons and Uncle Ned also instructed me on the responsibilities of a Warden and King anytime he got the chance.” 

“Then I’ll stop lecturing. That is not my thing anyway. And I am being remiss. I extracted the happy news from Ser Arthur. We have not toasted yet to your betrothal. A most convenient match, Aegon.” He raised his glass.

Jon mimicked the movement and both men drank deeply.

“Being the man of the people you are, I once had the hope you might marry one of my daughters.” Oberyn remarked staring absently in his almost empty cup.

Jon didn’t reply immediately. He searched for the right words not wanting to offend his friend and ally. He took another sip of wine before he spoke. “I only met one of your daughters and she was a bit too forward to my liking. Our personalities did not match.”

Oberyn laughed. “I know. It is just that you are one of the only nobles, a royal even that wouldn’t mind marrying a Sand.” He twirled his cup in his hands.

“I can legalise all your daughters with one stroke of my quill soon, if that might help. To be honest, Nymeria’s marriage prospects are more harmed by her behaviour than because of her status as a bastard. Surely you saw how she threw herself at me and Robb Stark wrote me of her behaviour while she was at Winterfell. He complained she kept pursuing him after he had made it very clear he wasn’t interested. Even if she were a Princess, most Lords of the North wouldn’t choose a wife who behaved so uh forward.” Jon felt himself grow warm.

Oberyn sighed. “I saw. I used to think it was endearing how free spirited my daughters were. Are.” He corrected himself. “And I never had a second thought about it. Dorne is less rigid when it comes to morals. That is true. You are right though. If they want a noble husband, they should behave a bit more circumspect. Nymeria however doesn’t want to catch a husband.”

“She could have fooled me,” Jon muttered. “I’m sorry. That was rude. What does she want, Oberyn?” He was curious now.

“She wants to be recognised for her fighting skills. She wants to swear her sword to you.” Oberyn now turned his head sideways smiling a bit apologetically. “I know she didn’t go about it the right way.”

“Even if I’d consider it, I’d have to talk to Ser Gerold about it first. Are you sure that this is what she wants?” Jon wasn’t all that certain that Nymeria Sand could live a long period in service to another.

“She told me even before she met you the first time at Greywater Watch. I’d have to check but I can’t right now. I sent her to Dorne, officially to report to her uncle Doran but in reality to put a few things in motion over there. Now that we are on the subject of potential female warriors, your youngest cousin is also a promising fighter. I did what you asked and found an excellent teacher for her. I have taken the liberty to send for him already. He is an Essosi, well versed in the art of water dancing.” 

“Water dancing better be a fighting style befitting Arya and have nothing to do with actual dancing.” Jon looked a bit skeptical.

“You hurt my feelings with your lack of confidence in me.” Oberyn’s free hand held his heart in a mocking fashion for a moment before he grew serious again. “Syrio Forel once was the first Sword of Braavos. His services do not come cheap.”

Jon relaxed. “I’ll pay for his fee. Thanks Oberyn. I really appreciate you helping us with this.”

“We’ll convince Ned Stark to pay. I’ll think of something.” Oberyn smiled mischievously.

“How come I do not doubt that?” Jon muttered but the smile he was trying to suppress broke on his face anyway.

Prince Oberyn grabbed the pitcher once more and offered to fill Jon’s cup again. Jon nodded his assent and sipped the red liquid grateful for the distraction.

“This is indeed a very fine wine. I might need you to negotiate a deal with me with the Dornish supplier.” He remarked after he had drunk half of this second filling.

“Consider it done, Aegon. The man will be very pleased to boast to all and sundry he is the favourite supplier of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, in the very near future I mean of course.”

“Of course. Would you be willing to tell me in all honesty what you meant before when you told me that Dany and I make a most convenient match?” The wine had loosened Jon’s tongue somewhat, he felt a bit light in his head.

Oberyn looked surprised. “I thought that was evident. You are not giving any Kingdom the advantage over the others. Jealousy can create rivalries, and rivalries, well just read your history books again, Aegon. This is a very diplomatic solution. Not to mention that there are fire breathing dragons in the realm again. She has the blood of old Valyria. She is the best possible match for you.”

He bumped gently into Jon his eyes twinkling again. “And might I point out that she is head over heels for you which is always a plus. Not to mention how sweet she is on the eyes. You won’t have much trouble convincing her to make lots of heirs and you will enjoy doing so thoroughly. I can go on and describe every lovely detail of her physique starting with the parts that are relevant to help you out, but”

“You may stop already.” Jon quickly interrupted with burning cheeks. Oberyn’s words only enhanced the effect the wine was having on him. “My question was answered in full. I am satisfied.” 

“Satisfied, mmph. Truly? Has she already seen to your needs?”

“How was your reunion with Ellaria?” Jon deflected now red as a tomato.

“Oh no, you wouldn’t want to hear those details, my boy. You’re unwillingness to answer my previous question proves you can’t handle that topic yet.”

Jon swallowed not knowing how to respond to that. He searched desperately for another topic.  
“You grew up with Ser Arthur. Did you know the Lady Ashara well?” He tried to get Oberyn to back off.

“I did. I might even have flirted with her at one time.” Prince Oberyn accepted the change in subject opting to refrain from teasing the Prince for now.

“She very much resembles her brother. She must have been a beauty when she was a maid. Is she a widow and reverted to the use of her maiden name?” Jon pursued his line of questioning.

“She never married. I believe she fell in love once when she was very young but it didn’t end well and she retreated from society for a time. Then her life was further uprooted when the Targaryens lost the Iron Throne, Ser Arthur disappeared and was presumed dead. She mourned her brother for several years before he was allowed to contact her.”

“It is a shame.” Jon sipped from his cup and sighed with contentment. “This really is excellent wine.”

The Dornish Prince nodded. “Your betrothed is gesturing at you. Perhaps we should both go over. Don’t worry I will just offer her my congratulations and vanish. You’re lucky I respect you enough not to make a pass at her. You wouldn’t stand a chance. I know all the good tricks.” He made an obscene gesture with his tongue and eyes.

Jon just laughed. “I consider myself very lucky. On all counts. Perhaps even tomorrow in the training yard I might get lucky and teach you a lesson?”

“I feel a headache coming up.” Oberyn lifted his hand to his forehead in a theatrical gesture. “I am afraid I will need to rest up and get well so I can attend the council meeting in the afternoon. Perhaps some other time.”

“Another time it is. I’ll ask again tomorrow evening. You better start thinking of a better excuse to use then.” Jon smiled, stood with a bit of difficulty and offered his hand to help the Dornish Prince up.

 

***

 

It was dark when Jon and Dany walked back to the castle. Jon was still a little tipsy from the wine and held Dany close to him his arm around her waist.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Dany? Those were all simple folk telling you about their daily routines, their small successes and little problems.” His hand that held her waist started stroking her side sensually.

“I did actually. I also enjoyed how you felt at ease amongst them, Aegon. Nobody would suspect you were the True King when they saw you mingle with these folk sitting on the ground, eating simple fare. You understood them and knew what they were talking about as well as if you had lived among them. Oh, but you have.” She looked at him trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on her lower hip that had moved even lower till and was caressing her buttocks.

“Indeed, I lived in a small community and the knights and I helped out where we could. I enjoyed that simple live. Whenever my lessons and trainings were finished I would roam the environment. More so after I had acquired Ghost. He had an infallible instinct for where we were most needed.” His hand had returned to her waist again but was now moving upward toward her breast.

“And I sat inside a luxurious villa and knew nothing about the struggles of the common folk.” She leaned into him rather enjoying his unusual forwardness. He normally was more circumspect. Although it was dark, they were still outside and Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur were walking not too far behind.

“Don’t worry, Dany. You are doing fine. They are already embracing you. You provided a lot of them with an extra income. Folks appreciate the fact that you show your face regularly and take an interest in their efforts. And you are marrying their darling Prince. But let’s change the subject.” He hand now cupped her breast.

“To what?” Her words sounded almost like a squeak. 

She stopped walking and looked into his dark eyes. He dropped his hands and turned to her so they stood face to face.

“See this beautiful moon, the cliffs of Dragonstone, our home visible from here and only two guards staying behind, guarding us very discreetly, barely able to see in the dark what we are doing?” His voice was seducing her all on its own since his hands hung still against his own body.

“Yes.” She smiled feeling a familiar tingling rise in her body. “I can see all that.”

“See this young man standing in front of you now? Do you see his lips that are longing for mmph.”

Jon felt her arms close around his neck as she silenced him by putting her lips on his. He in turn encircled her waist and reciprocated her kiss. His lower body pressed into hers. He continued kissing her keeping her body locked tightly against his. A discreet cough from Ser Gerold made Jon pull back and end their embrace. Daenerys looked at him her lips swollen and her eyes even half closed betrayed the passion he had awakened in her.

“Time to go inside, my Prince. You have an early morning and it is getting rather chilly. The Princess is not suitably attired for this fall in temperature.

“Let’s race you to the steps then.” Jon replied impulsively. Taking Dany’s hand in his he pulled her forward and together they race towards the winding stairs. Ser Gerold looked exasperated but did his best to keep up, followed closely by a grinning Ser Barristan the Bold.

 

***

 

The next morning Jon cancelled his training. Not only because of the effect the Dornish wine had on his mind and body. Normally Jon would work through that. A long message had arrived from Lord Reed and after decoding the first half of it he had informed his Kingsguard on duty to alert the ones waiting for him in the courtyard that his daily training was cancelled and to locate Davos and ask him to attend to him immediately. 

A bit later Ser Arthur reported back to Jon. “Davos Seaworth has gone down to the docks this morning to inspect the status of the ships. I sent a messenger over. He will be here as soon as possible.”

“Then leave word that he can find me in the Godswood. I am going over there as soon as I have finished decoding this message.” 

Ser Arthur looked at him but Jon offered no more info and the knight kept silent. There was a council meeting scheduled for that afternoon with the additional presence of the Master of Whisperers. The knight probably knew that he would be informed of anything important, if not now, then certainly during that meeting. He waited near the door and escorted his Prince to the Godswood as soon as Jon had tucked the message he had been scribbling on away.

When Jon entered the garden where the sapling of the heart tree of Winterfell was growing steadily, he saw Lady Ashara Dayne standing before it. It appeared she was praying. Before he had a chance to retrace his steps and leave her in peace, she spotted him.

“My Prince,” she bowed. “Don’t leave on my account. I was finishing up anyway.”

Jon nodded his head in answer to her greeting. “I didn’t know you worshipped the Old Gods, Lady Dayne.”

“I don’t. It is just being in a Godswood helps me remember …, never mind.” She sighed. “You know, you are the spitting image of your uncle when he was your age.”

Jon looked at her taken aback. “You knew Lord Eddard Stark? Or did you know Brandon Stark before uh,” 

He cursed inwardly and wondered how you phrased in polite conversation that your mad grandfather killed your other grandfather together with his son who also happened to be one of your uncles? Luckily Ashara Dayne spoke up and saved him from having to complete his sentence.

“I knew both of them. I met them at the tourney of Harrenhal before the Rebellion. They were both nice men, very unlike one another in disposition, but both nice in their own way.” She answered softly, smiling a bit sad.

Jon’s mind was working a mile a minute. She hadn’t married because of a love that hadn’t ended well. Uncle Brandon had died young. 

“I reckon you have never met my uncle Benjen? If not you would have included him in your praise.” He tried to steer the conversation away from the unfortunate fate of his uncle Brandon.

“I only met Benjen Stark briefly. He was hardly more than a child back then. After Harrenhal, I never had the pleasure to meet any of the Starks again.” Another sad smile ghosted over her face.

“You’ll meet Lord Eddard Stark when you visit King’s Landing. Benjen Stark will come south as soon as his business in Winterfell has been taken care of.” He smiled encouragingly at her.

“Perhaps,” she answered hesitantly. “I’ll let you pray in private, my Prince.” She bowed and turned away before Jon could think of a reply. She smiled and greeted her brother and Ser Oswell when she passed them but didn’t linger knowing they were on duty.

Jon watched her until she disappeared from sight. Perhaps he should ask Ser Arthur. He might be willing to tell him if in another life, he could have called Lady Dayne, Aunt Ashara. He knelt before the small heart tree and tried to empty his mind as Lord Reed had taught him. 

At first nothing happened but then he felt a warm welcoming feeling. It was as if the Gods were reaching out to him, or if not the Gods, then at least a friendly entity. His mind tried to reach out further to make more sense of what was happening. 

Suddenly things changed drastically. It felt as if the winds picked up and a shiver ran over his back. Gone was the warm welcome, instead it grew colder and he felt threatened. The eerie feeling grew. This was not a vision from the Gods. Jon wanted to open his eyes but couldn’t. Somehow he was unable to move. Jon was getting scared and fought the strange enchantment that was keeping him prisoner. He startled when a hand touched him and he tried to shake it off.

“Calm down son, it is only me. You are shivering.” Davos’ calm voice was able to reach Jon and he succeeded in breaking his trance.

Jon slowly opened one eye. Seeing Davos looking at him with a worried expression, he exhaled and carefully opened his other eye. The feeling dissipated. The connection or whatever had happened to him had been broken.

“Davos?”

“You feel cold, Jon. Are you alright?”

“It seems I am now. Thanks, Davos.” Jon answered his wits coming back again. “I don’t know what happened. I felt unable to move. Something or someone was drawing me in. I won’t try that again anytime soon.”

“Try what exactly? I feel out of my depth here, my Prince. Politics I can handle. Magic is something I don’t know anything about and I am rather wary of.”

“That makes two of us, Davos. I was only trying to contact the Gods, to be given guidance, a vision perhaps to make more sense of some troubling things.”

“Do I know of these troubling things you are referring to?” He studied the young man and saw him getting nervous.”

“Not all of them,” Jon admitted a bit embarrassed. “Some things are still too unclear to burden you all with.”

“Isn’t that what we are here for? To help you carry your burden? I can understand that you are reluctant to tell the entire council, but can’t you at least tell me? I will keep it quiet if that is your wish.”

“I know Davos. But I wouldn’t want to worry you needlessly or freak you out when I am not sure …” his voice trailed off.

“Tell me, son. Not as your Hand, but as your trusted friend. Tell me as you would tell your father if he was still alive.” He encouraged the Targaryen Prince.

“Perhaps we should find a better place for this, where we can both sit down and talk privately?” Jon looked over to where two of his Kingsguard were keeping a close eye on him. Ser Gerold had decreed that with all the visitors coming and going, Jon needed at least two protectors at all times when he ventured outside his quarters. Mostly he didn’t mind but at times like this or when spending time with Dany, it could grow a bit uncomfortable.

“How about the abandoned caves?” Davos suggested. “They have stopped mining the dragonglass. All the men are working on the Targaryen armour, banners and sails. Ser Arthur will agree that you are safe in there if he is guarding the only entrance.

Jon nodded and they walked the small distance in silence. He used the time to gather his thoughts.  
When they entered the caves it was obvious that Davos had been there before. Without looking twice, his Hand took a torch hanging against the walls and lit it. Then he guided Jon through a few narrow passage ways until they reached a large open space. Jon looked around and admired the rough rocks. The light of the torch made the pieces of dragonglass still embedded in the walls shine like coloured gemstones. 

“Amazing,” he uttered. “I should bring Dany here to see this.”

“We can sit down over there.” Davos led him to a flat rock that could be used as a seat. “Now tell me and don’t hold back. What have you been keeping from me that is weighing you down?”

Jon tore his eyes away from the glittering walls and focused his thoughts. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning?”

“Please do. I freed my schedule for the entire morning. There is enough time left before lunch to tell an entire life’s worth of dreams and nightmares.”

“It all started when I got ill before leaving to save Robb at the Dreadfort.” Jon hesitated. “I made myself ill. I can’t tell you exactly what I did. Suffice it to say that I did something to induce greendreams because at the time I was struggling with … . Never mind that isn’t relevant now.”

“Tell me anyway, Jon. I want to know what drove you to put your health at risk.” Davos would use this opportunity to get to the bottom of this, glad the Prince brought the subject up himself.

“I felt guilty for wanting to marry Dany for love and not for political reasons. At the time I feared either my choice might bring a war about because I failed to annex a Kingdom by marriage or worse, that by marrying her I condemned my offspring to madness. You were not here and I kept thinking of this possibility my great-great-uncle had told me about, uh a possibility to induce visions. I am telling you more than I should already. This is supposed to be a big Targaryen secret only to be revealed to the heir of House Targaryen.”

“I gather you were reassured by whatever you experienced since you are betrothed?” Davos was still at a lost as to why he was summoned to come to his Prince’s side in such haste.

“No, I came to that decision through other means. The Gods, or whatever powers that granted me a glimpse of the future, didn’t bother with whom I should or should not marry. I came to the decision to marry Dany after thinking long and hard about it and to be honest after a very fruitful and welcome conversation with Uncle Benjen.”

“Okay, then what happened with the greendream you uh forced on yourself?” Davos frowned. 

“The vision I got showed me something else. It has to do with what I told you about already. You recall? A King to defeat a King.” 

Davos nodded. “You on a field of ice and fire. You told us that yesterday.”

“I did not tell you all I saw.” Jon took a deep breath to find the courage to say it out loud. 

“I saw myself and the Night King, in single combat. Nobody could reach us because we were engulfed in a ball of fire. The fire did not seem to harm us much. I fought with my sword that had also caught fire. I did not see the outcome of the fight but I could feel myself weakening from the heat. I might defeat him, Davos. Sam at least seems to think so.” 

Jon looked up at the calm, compassionate weathered face of Davos. He swallowed and added. “But I’m not sure that I will survive the fight.”

“Why not? Didn’t Bran see a vision of you with grey hair?” Davos asked staying calm, neither changing his expression, nor moving a muscle.

“It could be a descendant who looks just like me. It is also possible that the vision will never come to pass. The choices we and also our enemies make in between might change the outcome. Lord Reed often warned me the future isn’t set in stone since we still have free will.”

Jon looked up at Davos and sighed. “I can’t explain why. While I was experiencing the vision, I feared the possibility that I might perish. I could feel my arms and legs tiring. It must have been a long fight.” Jon paused and took a few deep breaths to hold the feeling of doom that was creeping up on him once more at bay.

“I should train harder still. I might be a good swordfighter but he matched my skill. It seemed as if he knew my moves before I even made them. I suspect he is a greenseer as well, perhaps one even more powerful than little Cousin Bran or Lord Reed. It is possible that he had a detailed vision of the fight and can adapt his strategy. Anyway I felt …,” Jon suddenly looked away a stricken look on his pale face.

“Jon? Son, what is the matter? You are shivering once more.” Davos put his hand on his shoulder to offer comfort.

“I experienced a feeling of doom, of foreboding, just like, just like the one I felt before the heart tree when you startled me. It makes me wonder if I felt the presence of the Night King. These experiences were eerily identical.”

“If that is the case, perhaps you should consult Lord Reed about this. He might tell you if you are just imagining things or if there is indeed a possibility for greenseers to reach out to each other through the trees.”

Jon let out a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, that is a good idea. I will make another stop there on my journey north.” 

Davos had taken his hand of Jon’s shoulder and both men sat in silence for a moment. “I don’t like this Jon. I don’t like this one bit. Not about the single combat, not about you no longer being safe in the Godswood.”

Jon nodded again but kept silent.

“I understand you not wanting to talk to anyone yet. It all seems so far-fetched. Are you really fireproof?”

“Not entirely. The fire of my dragons can’t hurt me. I can get a slight burn from normal fire and I heal faster than usual.” 

“Let Sam do some research. Even if you don’t tell him everything, he can research the use of fire by Targaryens and their vulnerabilities. For the other thing, I can only counsel you to visit Lord Reed on your way north, Jon.”

Jon nodded deep in thought. A bit later he spoke up again. “Talking about Lord Reed, I just got a long message from him. Actually, that is the reason I summoned you here. It is not good news…”

 

***

 

Varys had indeed arrived in time for lunch and soon after they all gathered in the beautiful council room at Dragonstone. Never before had there been this many advisers seated at the painted table since Jon had started using the room. Only Ser Barristan was not attending. He had volunteered to accompany their guests on a tour of the harbour and the workshops.

Jon had taken his normal place that happened to be where King’s Landing and the Driftmark were painted on the table. Sam sat to his left now, his scrolls covering the Stormlands. It was Davos who sat to his right close to the Fingers this time. Dany had taken a seat next to Davos, her delicate hands were tracing the contours of White harbour. Varys was quick to claim the chair opposite Jon near the Westerlands. Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell sat respectively before the Reach and Oldtown. Ser Arthur hands fiddled with a wooden miniature boat that had been left by someone on Cape Kraken. Prince Oberyn had opted to sit to the left of Sam, considering it the righteous place of a Dornish Prince at the painted table.

“We should have wooden miniatures carved out.” Varys commented looking at the one Ser Arthur was toying with. Wolves to depict the Starks, Stags for the Baratheons and so on. Then we can plan battles on this table.”

“I hope we won’t need those anytime soon.” Jon remarked. “If everyone is present, perhaps we should start.”

Varys stood. “May I begin with offering my congratulations to you and the Princess? I was most pleased to hear of your betrothal. A most convenient and satisfactory decision. I wish you both every happiness.” He bowed and looked satisfied when he witnessed Jon and Dany exchanging warm happy smiles.

“We thank you.” Jon answered and Dany nodded her head towards Varys. 

“Perhaps you should start, Lord Varys. We are eager to hear the news from the capital.” Davos practical as ever moved things along.

Varys sat down. “Most of the efforts right now are directed versus organising the tournament. Lord Royce has been put in charge of the logistics and reports back to the Hand of the King. He asked me to convey his greetings. If he hadn’t been given this responsibility and a temporary seat on the small council, he would have liked to accompany me to swear fealty to you in person. Instead,” he reached inside his pocket and took out a scroll. “He gave me this document to hand over to you. It is his formal pledge that the Vale will stand behind you and support your claim.”

He handed the scroll across the table to his future King. “Well done, my Prince.” He added. “Lord Royce has done nothing but sing your praises. You made an impression on him and not just because you swiftly dealt with the situation at the Eyrie.” He smiled when he saw the modest reaction of the Targaryen Prince. The young man would make an excellent King.

“Thank you Lord Varys. When will the tournament be held exactly?” Jon was quick to cover his slight embarrassment with the unexpected praise.

“Preliminary competitions are to start in two sennights.” Seeing Jon’s questioning gaze he explained. “Too many knights have entered the list. The ones that have never before engaged in a jousting event in the capital will have to compete amongst themselves in a sort of pre-tournament. Only the best ten will be allowed to enter the main list and join the veterans. If nothing happens,” he gave Jon a significant look, “the actual tournament will start in three sennights and will last for three days.”

“My Prince?” Ser Arthur asked looking at him expectantly. “Any luck you will be back by then?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t think so. That would be around the time that the dead arrive at Hardhome. I intend to fly North in a sennight so I can help set up the last traps. In all probability I won’t be here before the event has ended.”

Varys lifted another scroll from his pocket. “A pity. I believe in this message the Hand of the King urges you to come to King’s Landing first before heading North.”

“We discussed this more than once already. It is too high a risk.” Jon answered. “Even if all goes well and everything is ready from me to enter the Throne Room disguised as Lord Celtigar and just calmly seat myself on the Iron Throne with the help of all our loyal supporters over there, I can’t simply announce my rule only to abandon it the next day to head north for a moon’s duration or more.”

He looked around to see several nodding heads. With his gaze fixed on Lord Varys he continued. “I must stay there to receive oaths of fealty. People will need to see me in person. They will expect an official inauguration. I will also have to reassure them that the dragons mean them no harm but instead will help protect them. The best way to do that is by example. Surely you all realise that in this case, seeing is believing. But most important of all, I will have to react swiftly if anyone chooses to rebel. It is highly likely that an uprising might come from Prince Stannis and the Stormlands.”

Davos coughed and looked at Jon with a meaningful stare.

Jon shook his head and spoke quietly with Davos. “Let us first deal with the other issues before tackling that one.” 

“What have you and the Hand of the King answered to Lord Lannister’s demands.” Davos was quick to ask the Master of Whisperers and Jon nodded gratefully to his Hand.

“Nothing yet, my Prince. We both were of the opinion you should have a say in that.”

“Can’t we invite him to come to Dragonstone?” Prince Oberyn proposed. “I am sure Tyrion Lannister and Prince Aegon would get along just fine. The dwarf is no typical Lannister, not by a long shot.”

“It would take him too long to arrive.” Ser Arthur reminded them all of the distance between the Rock and Dragonstone. 

Sam now turned to Jon with a wan smile. “Might I suggest that he be sent a letter written by the esteemed Dragonrider himself containing the promise of a visit from the True King and his dragons as soon as the undersigned’s most pressing business has been taken care of?”

“I could hint at a possible betrothal between his niece and the heir of Highgarden but urge him to keep it a secret for now.” Jon added.

“My Prince?” Davos asked.

“Trust me in this, Davos. I have a very good reason to suggest this. It will also serve Lady Tyrell right for stalling. I will relish using my royal authority to take the choice away from her and overrule her wishes. Not to mention the added bonus that the heir of Highgarden will be my most loyal subject when he hears about this.”

“Aegon, do you mean to imply that Lord Willas Tyrell would agree to marry a bastard?” Princess Daenerys turned to Jon her eyes pleading with him to show mercy to the two young people involved.

Jon leaned over so he could look at her past Davos. “They love each other, Dany. I have it on good authority. Besides she will be legalised by then,” he added in a gentle tone. His honest Stark eyes held hers until she averted them and he could see how her cheeks had gained a rosy tint.

Davos coughed discreetly to draw Jon’s attention away from the Princess. “As long as it is nothing more than a hint and no formal promise, I agree. Otherwise we run the risk to create an alliance between two Kingdoms that might rebel. I urge you to only finalise the betrothal when they have sworn allegiance to you in front of witnesses.”

Jon nodded and was joined by most of the others. Sam was just scribbling away. Prince Oberyn was the only one who voiced his opinion out loud when he exclaimed. ‘Damned right!”

Davos considered the subject closed and moved on to the next topic. “Lord Varys, we want you to remove the lethal poisons from Maester Pycelle’s cabinet. Sam was preparing a message to that effect but since you are here we can ask you in person. It has to do with a premonition of our greenseer.”

“I see. I’ll try to do that without Maester Pycelle’s knowledge and will only inform him after the fact. Perhaps Prince Oberyn might be willing to help me to identify the substances.” Varys turned to look at the Dornish Prince.

“Why tell the old fart?” Prince Oberyn objected. “I could easily replace most of them with harmless liquids so he wouldn’t notice. If we tell him, the old conniver might be brewing them anew for all we know.” 

“What has the old Grand Maester done to you, Prince Oberyn?” Varys sighed. “We can’t antagonise him since a Grand Maester’s position is for life. He could endanger our Prince’s life if we make him our enemy.”

“I don’t trust him.” Prince Oberyn pouted. “Besides, if we substituted his potions with harmless liquids he couldn’t hurt our Prince that way and I think Prince Aegon can handle him in a swordfight.”

“Prince Aegon?” Prince Oberyn looked at Jon with hopeful eyes. “Can’t you see the merit of keeping him in the dark for now?”

“My great-great-uncle was older than Grand Maester Pycelle is now and he was still an asset to the Watch and of great support to me. I can’t really express an opinion without knowing the man. I will have to rely on those who worked closely with him. Lord Varys, are you sure you can trust Grand Maester Pycelle?”

“I do not question his loyalties, not yet anyway. I have to admit that he is growing lazy and incompetent. At times one could call him senile. A Maester, certainly a Grand Maester should be careful with his lethal potions and keep them under double lock and key and we have seen the consequences of his negligence in this respect. If you want a complete report on the man’s abilities, I must add that Grand Maester Pycelle often falls asleep during important meetings. I suspect this happens because he spends a part of his nights plaguing female servants or young whores with his attentions, even at his advanced age. The times he is awake during the small council meetings, he never really contributes anything of value. We all have to pick up his slack. He won’t be an asset to your rule, my Prince.” Varys admitted.

“If that is the case and he is a mere figurehead, then I will allow Prince Oberyn to deceive him and replace the harmful potions with neutral liquids. The entire Maester’s system is in great need of being reformed.” Jon quickly looked away from Prince Oberyn’s satisfied grin in order to keep his face neutral. He turned his attention back to the Master of Whisperers.

“Lord Varys, what about the rumours that were spread about a dragonrider coming to burn King’s Landing and all its inhabitants. Have you made any progress in your investigations?” 

“I have finally tracked down the source. It was an emissary sent by the Red Priestess that resides in the Stormlands. I have been able to discredit the rumours and am working on spreading the story of a kind and noble dragonrider helping Westeros by saving our coasts from Ironborn raids. The tide is turning slowly. Give me a bit more time and the inhabitants of King’s Landing will no longer cower in fear at the simple mention of a dragonrider. I’m not promising the dragons will be hailed with cheers, but there won’t be a full blown panic. At least that is my hope.”

“Are there rumours surfacing about my return to Westeros, Lord Varys?” Princess Daenerys wanted to know.

“Only the ones I am introducing.” He answered bowing his head to her. “I have paid a minstrel to wander from tavern to tavern and sing a song depicting your beauty, your kind heart and your yearning to be allowed to live on the shores where you were born. An entire verse is dedicated to how you longed to have a memory of your kind mother and dearest brother Rhaegar who dearly loved the people of King’s landing and how they in turn were adored by the smallfolk. It ends with the heartfelt hope that it won’t be long now before her lifelong dream might become reality. The minstrel prays that the Seven will grant you your wish and that any day now you will walk the hallowed grounds of your homeland again.” His sing song voice trailed off.

Nobody spoke up. Lord Varys saw everyone staring at the Princess whose face had taken on a dreamy look. 

“It is quite a masterpiece, even if I say so myself.” The Master of Whisperers added when nobody offered a comment. “It has been picked up by other performers and the versions have grown lengthier, the melody has evolved and has become a lot more enchanting than the initial version.”

“I thank you for that, Lord Varys. I look forward to hearing that song myself.” Princess Daenerys said softly. She took a deep breath and added in a more serious tone. “And what is the status regarding King Robert’s betrothal?” 

“We’re still stalling. The Baratheon King is distracted by his mistress and the annulment is not yet formalised.” Varys smiled proudly. “That is one plan that is working perfectly.”

He looked at Davos and Jon now. “As for keeping him calm and preventing him from making important changes or making rash decisions, we have a problem. King Robert is furious about what happened to his bastard son Edric Storm. He is guarding his niece, the Princess Shireen closely and has opened negotiations with Lord Royce for a potential betrothal between his niece and Lord Robin Arryn.”

“That is not a rash decision but merely a tepid reaction at best.” Prince Oberyn threw in. “I would instantly have called my banners and beheaded Prince Stannis.”

“That is exactly what King Robert intends to do. He is even debating calling Prince Renly back from the Wall so he can become the Lord of Storm’s End again after the King has executed Prince Stannis for burning nobles.” Varys replied. “Lord Stark and I are doing our utmost to try and get him to negotiate with Stannis Baratheon first. The fact that Prince Stannis in his latest message accused the King of kidnapping his niece doesn’t help matters.”

Davos coughed once more and looked pointedly at Jon.

“We might have received some information about that. But first tell us Lord Varys, did you receive other intelligence from the Stormlands?”

“Nothing that I have been able to verify adequately. A rumour becomes valuable news only when you hear it from enough independent sources to lend it credit. I have nothing but unconfirmed rumours, my Prince.”

“Tell them to us all the same.” Jon encouraged him. “We might be able to confirm some of them.”

“Apparently the Red priestess, Melisandre has lost the child she was carrying and is said to be rather ill. Stannis might be negotiating with Euron Greyjoy and even be contacting sellsword companies in Essos. It might even be possible that he is approaching major bannermen from Dorne and the Reach. But I can’t tell you for sure that any of these rumours are to be taken seriously.” He ended his report with an apologetic expression on his face. 

“That is all?” Jon and Davos exchanged glances once more.

“I hate to give misinformation, my Prince. But if you want me to tell you, I will do so under the risk of relaying mere gossip that has not a single grain of truth in it.” He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. 

“It has come to my ears that the Lords of the Stormlands that have refused to heed his call to banners, have been threatened to have their lands seized and their family members offered to R’hllor, to be burned alive that is, if they do not reconsider swiftly.” 

“Let me be an independent source to help you along here then.” Jon said with authority. “We received a raven from Lord Reed this morning. He wrote that somehow the magic shield protecting the Stormlands from his visions has lifted. He writes of the miscarriage of the Red Priestess and speculates she was the one keeping his visions at bay with her magic. Ever since she has been ill, he and my young cousin have been granted several visions. He warned me about a possible alliance between Euron Greyjoy and the Baratheon Prince. Apparently Prince Stannis is so deluded to believe that he is the Rightful King so ordained by the Lord of Light. He proclaims that in order to fulfil his role of the Prince Who Was Promised and become the saviour that will rescue the realm from the Dark Night full of Terrors, he must become more powerful first. He intends to depose his brother to become the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Only then can he go on a pilgrimage to save the realm from the Great Enemy in the Lands of Always Winter.”

“He would dethrone his own brother?” Ser Gerold asked incredulously. “That is unlike the Stannis I knew.”

“I spoke to Thoros of Myr personally.” Prince Oberyn countered. “The Priest states that Stannis has turned into a fanatic. According to him Prince Stannis is totally convinced that he is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai. He has become a zealot and a fool.”

“What does that make me?” Jon muttered under his breath. Aloud he spoke. “That is not all Lord Reed warned me about. He said an undead foe from the south is coming for me before the Night King will.”

“Night King?” Prince Oberyn asked perplexed. “Undead foe? Can it be that I am missing some vital information here?”

Jon leaned forward and turned his head so he could look at the Dornish Prince. “We have taken to calling the leader of the White Walkers the Night King.” Jon explained. “As to the undead foe in the South, I have no idea what he means, neither does Lord Reed. Not yet anyway.”

“Uh perhaps,” Sam stuttered.

“Yes Sam,” Jon encouraged his friend to speak.

“I had read that disciples of R’hllor, red priests and maybe also priestesses can sometimes bring someone who has recently died back to life. Since Thoros of Myr is our ally I wrote to him and asked if this was some kind of metaphor or whether I should interpret this literally. He wrote back confirming he had resurrected his friend, Lord Beric Dondarrion when he had sustained a deadly wound in a sword fight. So we must assume it is possible.”

“What are you saying exactly, Lord Tarly?” Davos asked.

“Uh nothing precisely, just that someone who was brought back to life could be considered uh undead? Then Lord Reed’s vision could be interpreted in that way?” He looked hesitantly at the Targaryen Prince.

Varys looked at the young Lord Tarly studying him thoughtfully. The Targaryen Prince had written to him that his friend was uncommonly smart but lacking in confidence. The Prince had informed him that Samwell Tarly was set to become a major adviser and already proved a major asset. According to Prince Aegon, Tarly was set to become a Grand Maester at a very young age not long after he had forged his chain. Now Varys understood. This young Lord showed great potential indeed.

“It might even be Prince Stannis himself.” Varys supported Tarly’s idea. “The Red Priestess Melisandre could have resurrected him at some point.”

Sam nodded. “Or will do so in the near future. Just bear in mind we do not know for sure. For all we know, it might be Euron Greyjoy or anyone else residing in the South.”

“Remember these visions are always vague about a timeline.” Jon warned. “Perhaps it is a warning that the dead might reach the South.” he ventured.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Davos stated. “Let us focus on the threat of the Stormlands for now and see which bannermen Stannis has been able to rally to his cause.”

Jon looked at Varys. “I can also confirm your far-fetched rumour of Lord Stannis threatening to burn the families of bannermen who refuse to heed his call. Lord Reed mentioned this as well.”

“That man never ceases to amaze us.” Ser Gerold threw in. “How do we proceed with the Stormland bannermen that have come to us for advice on what to do about their Liege Lord’s summons? They are torn between their belief in our cause and the threat to their lands and loved ones.”

“We must find a way to stall for time and bring their families to safety. Anyone have any ideas?” Jon spoke up again.

“That still leaves their lands open to be plundered.” Ser Oswell pointed out. “If only we could find a way to hinder them from leaving the capital without the blame falling on them.”

Jon and Davos exchanged a few short whispers.

“Varys, can’t King Robert send a raven to his brother in the Stormlands condemning the murder of Edric Storm and once more ordering Prince Stannis to come to the capital? This time it has to be with the express purpose of asking for forgiveness for having burnt the King’s bastard. As a further incentive to get his brother to agree to this royal command, King Robert will add that he has prohibited the Lords of the Stormlands residing in the capital to leave King’s Landing for the time being. Any Stormlord disobeying his orders will be proclaimed a traitor to the Crown and be thrown in the black cells. Mention that they have all been put under heavy observation.” Davos was the one that spoke up and Jon merely nodded his agreement.

“I’ll return to King’s Landing tomorrow morning and together with Lord Stark we will get the King to agree to this. Consider it done!” He looked at the Targaryen Prince when he told this.

“Thank you, Lord Varys. Now another issue that was raised is Prince Stannis’ attempt to recruit overseas. I already informed you that the Golden Company had been contacted to assist in a fight against royal forces in Westeros. Since Strickland, their captain-general has promised us to remain neutral, we need not fear the Golden Company will sign a contract with Prince Stannis. Is there a way to find out the answer of the other sellsword companies?” Jon asked.

“It takes time to hear back from them.” The Master of Whisperers admitted. 

“Ser Jorah is still in Pentos. Perhaps he can try to find out?” Princess Daenerys offered.

“Why is he still in Pentos?” Prince Oberyn asked his tone accusing. “Are you sure he is so loyal to you when he is still hiding overseas awaiting a royal pardon? You are here without one, aren’t you? Isn’t he sworn to protect you?”

“I allowed him to stay there a bit longer. He is awaiting my orders.” Daenerys defended he sworn sword before Jon could interfere.

“I have several contacts in Essos. Not only in Pentos. I’ll reach out to them.” Varys promised and the subject was closed.

“Anything else?” Ser Arthur asked. “Or can we consider the subject of the Stormlands handled for now.

“There have been two assassinations attempts on King Robert’s life. Two almost identical ones. Assassins trying to shoot King Robert with arrows while he is standing on his balcony to take in some fresh air. One suspect was apprehended and shouted we are all on the wrong side. The Rightful King will soon marry Princess Arianne and bring peace to the Realm. Unfortunately he was able to slit his own throat before the guards could prevent him.”

All eyes turned to Jon.

“Don’t look at me.” The young Prince exclaimed. “It has become clear I am not the only one who claims to be the Rightful King. This man had obviously been brainwashed, most probably by Prince Stannis.” 

“As we have been brainwashed by you?” Prince Oberyn said light-heartedly. But his joke fell flat.

“This is serious.” Ser Gerold reprimanded them. “Stick to the topic at hand. Perhaps someone in Dorne is also preparing an attempt to claim the Iron Throne. Prince Stannis is already married.”

“Is it really such a problem that someone is attempting to assassinate the usurper King.” Prince Oberyn challenged them. 

“It is when you’d think for once instead of joke. If fanatics are trying to murder anyone who sits on the Iron Throne that is not Stannis Baratheon or whoever the assassin was shouting about, we have to deal with this threat before our Prince stakes his claim and exposes himself as a new target to these assassins.”

Sam piped in. “And if it turns to actually be Prince Stannis who is considering marrying Princess Arianne, this would mean that Lady Selyse’s life is in danger if she isn’t dead already.” 

“I apologize. I meant no offense, Ser Gerold. I concede you raised a valid point.” Prince Oberyn looked around to see nothing but worried faces. 

“Come on, one can only concentrate and be serious for a certain time. Perhaps we should take a break and send for some refreshments. Is it me or is the air dry in here?” The Dornish Prince wet his tongue.

Jon looked at Prince Oberyn reassuring himself he had made the right decision by inviting the Dornish Prince to this meeting. He was a great asset to the conspiracy and deserved his place here as much or perhaps even more than some others. And if his contributions sometimes were a bit unorthodox, it kept everyone on his toes. Jon hadn’t once needed to make an effort to stay focused. He was glad when Ser Arthur spoke up and supported his Dornish friend.

“Prince Oberyn is right. Let us take a little break. Perhaps use the opportunity to take in some fresh air. We can reconvene here in a short while.”

 

***

 

The next two days Jon had a busy schedule. He had intensified his trainings convincing Ser Arthur that he needed to be ready to fight the White Walkers who were very skilled swordfighters and didn’t tire. The rest of his day was spent holding court meeting the new arrivals or deciphering scrolls, conferring with Davos or with his small council. Prince Oberyn, Lord Varys and Lady Ashara Dayne had left for King’s Landing the morning after their long meeting. Varys had joked that he would spend more time carrying out tasks for the Targaryen Prince than for the King he officially served.

During supper the second day after they had left, Jon complained to Davos about his schedule.  
“I only get to see Dany during some of the meals. After supper, we are too tired to stay up long enough to spend much time together. I am also too exhausted to connect with my dragons. I will abide by your schedule tomorrow but cancel all appointments for the day after that.” Jon ordered Davos who sat opposite him.

Dany who had just finished the last spoonful of a delicious soup looked up. “Aegon, what is the matter?”

“I promised you a visit to my foster-grandmother, didn’t I?” Jon gave her a tired smile.

She nodded. Her face lost the worried frown. “You did.”

“What do you say about going on a trip with me the day after tomorrow? We’ll spend the entire day at the Driftmark. I can show you the caves where I hatched the dragons, we can visit Yekken’s workshop and join my grandmother for lunch.” His smile broadened when he saw her growing excitement.

“I would love to accompany you. Can we really?” She asked looking at Davos now.

He chuckled. “I don’t see why not. But talk it through with Ser Gerold, Jon. He will need time to take the necessary safety measures.”

“I will do so right after supper. I also promised to meet Sam later.” Jon turned to Dany. “You will have to excuse me for this evening.”

“Don’t worry. Irri will be glad for the opportunity to practice her reading with me. She is coming along nicely.”

Under the table Jon grabbed her hand that lay on her upper leg and squeezed it gently. “You don’t need to sound so happy to escape my company for the night. A young man could get discouraged by less.”

“Poor Aegon. I’ll make it up to you on our outing, promise.” She blew him a kiss.

Jon caressed her thigh and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I look forward to it.” The simmering look in his eyes told her a lot more than his short formal response.

He quickly regained his posture when a servant approached with the next dish. Well aware how much Dany loved to hear about the direwolves, he started to tell her how Greywind and Ghost both had comforted and protected Robb Stark at the Dreadfort.

 

***

 

“I hardly get to see you, Jon.” Sam complained to his friend. They were seated in Jon’s chambers in front of the fire place. Sam had a small wooden desk on his lap, littered with his ever present writing materials.

“We attended the same long meeting the entire afternoon, Sam.”

“I mean one on one time with my friend.” Sam explained.

“I know Sam. I wished I had more time to spend with you. How is your book coming along?”

“I work a little on it each day. No matter how busy I am, I refuse to go to sleep without writing at least one paragraph. The letters you gave me helped me a great deal. I also received some information from Ser Oswell about your earlier years and I have written to Lord Reed to ask for some general information about your years at Greywater Watch. I’d say I am making progress.”

“That is nice to hear. If ever things are calmer, I want you to consider writing a book on the Free Folk. I want to set the record straight. Everyone should be able to read the truth about their way of life, about the intricacies of their society. They are not this uncivilised people that the existing history books mention in small passages occasionally. They are a folk with a unique civilization of their own and one can learn something from them. I can tell you some things and hopefully you can visit them in the future. If so, use Sandor as a point of reference. He is the one most suited to compare both life styles. These people are worth it to have an entire book dedicated to them.” Jon finished his passionate plea.

“That certainly sounds like a challenging prospect. It could be the start of a series. The second volume would describe the War for the Dawn.” Sam needed no further convincing.

“I have something else that might interest you.” Jon looked at Sam, his entire demeanour foreboding he was about to impart something vital.

“Oh?” Sam looked up from the notes he had been taking. “Do tell.”

“I received a letter from my great-great-uncle.” Jon paused waiting for Sam’s reaction.

“How is that possible?” His friend rubbed his chin. “He left it to you and you’re only telling me about it now?”

Jon shook his head. “Guess again.”

“You were recently at Castle Black and you found it in his quarters?”

“You always amaze me with the way your mind works through every possibility in an orderly, logical fashion.” Jon praised his friend. “Uncle Aemon left a large scroll to me in a secret hiding place in his quarters. You might find it interesting to know that it was the exact same place where Blackfyre and the dragon eggs were kept hidden for decades.”

“And you know that how?” 

Jon smiled. Trust Sam to always want to know the details. “Because he allowed me to take the eggs out of there myself when I was twelve years old.”

Sam sighed with envy. “I would so much have liked to be a witness to that scene.”

“When you get to that passage in your book, I will tell you all about it. I’ll even draw a little sketch.”

“I hold you to that.” Sam was quick to secure the promise. “I still remember you working on the book for your cousin Rickon. I always regretted leaving before you finished it. Some of those drawings were masterpieces, Jon.”

Jon smiled a bit self-conscious and made a show of watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

“Jon,” Sam broke the silence. “Are you planning on telling me what was in that letter before I fall asleep?” He mock-complained.

“I thought you got distracted and lost interest.” Jon teased. He leaned over to Sam. “Better stay awake a bit longer. It is really worth it, I promise.” 

“Okay,” Sam encouraged him. “I am all ears.”

“Swear you will keep this a secret. You are only allowed to bring Gendry in on it and even then not before taking every precaution possible. The code you have developed his not safe enough for this information. I will inform Gendry in person when I fly back to Eastwatch in a few days and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’ll never betray a single one of your secrets, Jon. I already swore that before.” Sam’s honest eyes were eagerly trained on his friend’s face.

“This is a Targaryen secret, passed on only to the head of House Targaryen, to be disclosed only to the limited number of people necessary to assist House Targaryen in uh”

“In making Valyrian Steel?” Sam guessed his eyes wide as saucers now.

“Indeed.” Jon handed him the large scroll. “I didn’t dare to put the result of the deciphering on it. Once I had translated it, I learned the decrypted version by hard and burned all written evidence of the formula in the normal tongue.”

“Ingredients we were missing?” Sam asked.

“Two drops of blood of old Valyria. Maester Aemon recommends to experiment with my blood first and then compare the results with another batch using Dany’s blood. And as you already surmised, we will need dragonfire. Those two ingredients ensure only we can make manufacture it.”

Sam studied the encrypted text. “It sure is a long description. There must be more to it.”

“It is a complicated process. First you melt the steel and mix it with the two drops of fresh blood and heat it with dragonfire. Then you have to let the mix cool down on its own time. A sennight later you melt it again and add one twentieth of dragonglass. Again you heat this mix with dragonfire and let it cool down naturally. Again you wait a sennight and repeat the procedure adding another twentieth of dragonglass. Seven days later you melt it one last time using normal fire and treat the mixture as you would treat high quality steel. That is it in a nutshell. More detailed instructions that will make more sense to Gendry than to us are added in there. The end of the letter quotes the honour code the Head of House Targaryen needs to adhere to. He is only allowed to produce a limited number of these weapons using these instructions. He also has to promise to use them only to do good, protect the weak and only hurt those who intend to cause harm. If he allows others the use of these Valyrian steel weapons, he needs to catalogue them carefully and House Targaryen remains responsible for all action the owner commits using the steel he has been gifted. Better read yourself how many things are forbidden and how many restrictions apply.”

“I think your ancestors were wise to put these in place. I wonder why there aren’t ...” Sam paused and studied Jon. “Oh but of course there are, aren’t there. How many restrictions apply to the use of your dragons?”

Jon looked at him feeling a sudden kinship with his friend. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips. “Only you Sam.” He shook his head. “Only you get all of this with only a hint of an explanation.”

He paused and leaned forward again. “There are a great many restriction in place for that too, as you can well imagine. I will tell you one day when we have more time. For now please adhere to these edicts. Don’t write any of this down, not in code, not now, not ever. Commit everything to memory and only talk to me about it. Don’t let others view Uncle Aemon’s scroll. In his letter there is also mention of a secret hiding place here on Dragonstone. Never venture there unless you are in my company. I will find a way to slip away from my Kingsguard one night and we’ll check it out together.”

Sam nodded after every sentence Jon pronounced. “I solemnly promise, Jon. You now that. Am I right that you haven’t told anyone about this, not even Uncle Benjen nor Davos?”

“Nor am I allowed to tell Dany.” Jon sighed. “The only reason you are the exception to extremely strict rules is that you are allowed to know some things in your function of Grand Maester to House Targaryen. I realise that according to the rules and laws of the Seven Kingdoms and the Citadel, you are not officially a Maester yet, let alone a Grand Maester. But if I strip away all the formalities and use common sense and intuition, you are that person that has the abilities and the required loyalty necessary for the position. I trust blindly.”

Jon touched Sam’s arm. “I know in a few years you will have read a thousand more books and forged an impressive Maester’s chain. But even now, I dare every Maester in Westeros to measure himself against your logical reasoning skills and eidetic memory. Events in time will catch up and make the situation I perceive as actual official in a few years.”

Sam was speechless.

“Sam?” Jon asked after a while.

“I am honoured, Jon. Allow me some time to wrap my head around this. Of course I knew you trusted me. You have proved that often enough. But this, to hear you proclaim that I am entitled to hear secrets not even your Hand or your Queen who is pure Valyrian Royalty are privy to is a bit overwhelming. And on top of that you just declared that you view me as an actual Maester already.”

“I do Sam. Let me make a quick visit to the privy. Perhaps when I return you will have gathered your wits enough to hear me out and do some research on a problem I am struggling with.” Jon rose from his chair.

 

“Uh of course, Jon. I’ll wait for you here.” Sam saw his friends walk to the door still in a daze. He shook his head and tried to gather his wits.

 

***

 

Two days later Jon and Dany were walking hand in hand to the largest tavern of the small settlement on the Driftmark. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell had left the day before so they could meet the Prince and Princess on arrival. A requirement of Ser Gerold Jon had agreed to willingly. He was glad his Lord Commander and Davos had not objected to him taking a day off from his duties and flying to the Driftmark. Upon Ser Gerold’s request, Jon had produced a detailed itinerary of his plans for the day. The Prince had made them promise to keep it all a secret from Dany. 

Dany looked around the town square and greeted everyone with a big smile. During the visit with his grandmother, Ser Barristan had taken the time to spread the word that the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone were visiting and had asked the inhabitants to respect the young couple’s privacy since they only had the one vacation day and had opted to spend it at the Driftmark. The knight had been surprised to learn how loved Jon was here and how willing they all were to allow their Prince to wander around the settlement as if he still lived amongst them. 

They all kept their distance and only spoke to him when he approached of his own accord and addressed them first. So far during the short walk from his foster-grandmother’s home to the inn, he had introduced a few female servants and an elderly man to the Princess and they had spent some time conversing with the blacksmith and visited his modest shop.

The Princess looked lovely in a blue summer gown that contrasted with the grey and brown attire of the smallfolk. Jon had asked her to pack a dress so she could change on the island. She had appeared in the same coat and breaches she had worn for their first dragonride and had a small bag with her that contained a dress and some lighter footwear.

They had started their day walking along the cliffs of Dragonstone to the dragons’ resting place. Jon had spent the night before last with Rhaegal and Viserion and had asked them to come along on this trip. Jon and Dany had mounted Rhaegal and Viserion flew alongside them, also wanting to visit the spot where he had been hatched. Since the weather was nice enough, the four of them circled Dragonstone and the Driftmark twice before landing near the caves where Jon had spent so much time raising his dragons. 

Dany had used the opportunity to change into her summer dress. They had left the dragons at the caves and had met up with Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell who were on horseback and had brought mounts for them as well. They had ridden at a slow pace toward the settlement enjoying the scenery as well as each other’s company. 

Jon felt himself relax for the first time in a long while. He had not bound his curls together opting to let the wind play with his locks. Today he would spend not a single moment thinking about strategies, politics, audiences or other duties. He had looked at Dany and had seen a similar joy in her eyes. 

Too soon they had arrived at the settlement. He had quickly dismounted so he could be the one to assist Dany. He had held her a bit longer than necessary and had kissed her hair before he had released her. They had arrived for lunch with his foster-grandmother. Their next stop had been the inn and they had opted to leave their horses behind and walk the small distance. 

So now they were crossing the town square and Jon gestured to a few children who were looking at them and were clearly longing to approach. A few carried flowers, some others the drawings Jon was familiar with. Dany bent down and gracefully accepted the gifts, bestowing each of the children a small peck on their cheeks. 

Jon smiled indulgently and asked for his own kiss. To the hilarity of the children she gave him an innocent peck on his nose. Jon then answered a few of their questions, mostly about the whereabouts of his dragons and how big they had grown and then waved goodbye to them all. Putting his arm around Dany’s shoulder, he guided her to the inn where the innkeeper was already waiting for them in the doorway.

As always the man bowed deeply and greeted them with excessive grovelling. Jon took it all in stride and guided Dany to a table where he sat down next to her on the wooden bench their thighs touching each other.

“What are we doing here, Jon? The weather is so nice outside and we just spent a long time cooped up inside with your grandmother.”

“That sound as if you didn’t enjoy the stories she told you about some of my childhood exploits. You sure fooled me when the tears rolled over your cheeks from laughing at my expense.” He pouted but his eyes danced with mirth when he remembered the delightful time they had enjoyed with his foster-grandmother.

“I did enjoy visiting your grandmother. You were lucky, Jon. You found a warm home here. We must make sure to visit her regularly. She looks old and frail.” Dany covered his hand that lay on the table with hers.

“I know,” he sighed. “I try to visit each time I am in the neighbourhood. It is not easy though, taking time off when there is so much at stake.”

“Yet you devote an entire day to me.” Her eyes conveyed her appreciation and she leaned a bit closer.

“I did it as much for me as for you. Who knows what will happen up north?” The warm look in his eyes dimmed a bit.

“Aegon, don’t say that.” The grip of her hand that was still keeping his prisoner tightened.

“I only meant to say,” he rephrased. “Who knows how long before I will be able to return.”

“And then you are off to King’s Landing.” Her voice sounded a little forlorn.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.

“Ah, but if all goes well, you will be able to join me a few days later and start preparing for our marriage and coronation.”

She put her free hand on his mouth. “Don’t jinx it.”

A cough made her drop her fingers from his mouth and releasing his hand she sat up straighter. The innkeeper looking a bit hesitant bowed when they turned their attention to him.

“My Prince, my Princess, can I offer you some refreshments on the house. We have made fresh water sweetened with wild berries. There is also the choice between sweet Arbor Gold, the stronger Dornish Red, ale or water.”

“I’d like a cup of the berry water.” Daenerys answered politely.

“Make that two,” Jon decided and made a strange hand gesture to the innkeeper behind Dany’s back.

The man beamed and nodded hurrying back to his counter.

“Now will you tell me why we are here? I doubt it is because they have the best sweetened water in the realm.” Daenerys had turned her head back to him.

He gave her a quick peck on her cheek. “Don’t be so impatient. Aren’t you enjoying your day? We’ll take a long walk on the beach later.” 

Jon was watching the innkeeper fill gather their cups and a pitcher, his eyes were following the man’s every move. After they had been served the innkeeper next visited the two tables where his Kingsguards had taken a seat and served them a pint of ale each. Ser Barristan sat at table near the front entrance. Ser Oswell was seated at another table near the inner door that led to a hallway and the small room where Jon had met Lord Varys a while ago. Finally the man gestured discreetly to someone in a dark corner who had been there long before Jon and Dany entered.

A relieved smile lit Jon’s features and he gently took Dany’s hand and raised it to his mouth. Looking deeply into her purple eyes, he kissed the tip of each finger slowly and listened for the first tunes of the enchanting music to start.

A while later, Dany sighed contently, her eyes were closed and her body was resting against Jon’s side. “That was so beautiful, Aegon. She wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye. No wonder Lord Varys was proud of his achievement. I felt so sorry for this girl in the song. And if I didn’t know any better, I would try to find her and help her find her way to her homeland. And the music accompanied the words so perfectly.”

“Wait here,” Jon said and tenderly steadied her so she no longer relied on him to keep her upright. He went over to the minstrel, whispered a few words and handed the man a few coins.

The music started once more, but now there were no words accompanying the enchanting melody. Jon held out his hand and bowed toward her. “Will you allow me this dance, my Princess?”

Dany took his hand that helped her up from the bench and curtsied. “I don’t know how to perform this dance.” She whispered in his ear when he took her in his arms.

“Just hold on to me,” he whispered back and guided her head against his shoulder, his arms encircling her waist. “We’ll just sway slowly to the rhythm of the music.” 

“I’ll remember this moment forever.” She sighed content to follow his lead.

“Even if we are cooped up inside on such a lovely day?” He teased.

“Shut up so I can enjoy the music,” she responded in a quiet voice without skipping a beat.

Jon smiled, kissed her hair and kept rocking her to the rhythm of the music. Even if he had been quick to tease her, he had been in full agreement with her earlier statement. He would also remember this moment for as long as the Gods granted him to live.

 

***

 

“I can’t believe you were able to arrange all this so quickly, Aegon.” Dany thanked him for the third time since they had left the tavern. “Engaging that minstrel was a very thoughtful gesture.”

“I am glad you appreciate it that much.” Jon answered enjoying their stroll along the sandy beach. They were walking hand in hand, barefoot, carrying their footwear in their hands. Each time a stronger wave came rolling, their feet got submerged by salty water.

“Irri seems to have settled in nicely.” Jon’s free hand touched one of her braids. “I deduced she was the one to help you style your braids this morning. Your hair has been arranged in the exact same style as you wore it the first time I ever laid eyes on you in Pentos. ”

“You remembered?” Daenerys stopped and looked at him with wonder in her eyes.

“I remember everything about that day. I conjured up the image often enough when I could fall asleep.” 

Jon looked over his shoulder and saw Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan talking to a fisherman. He used the opportunity to pull her into him and gave her a quick kiss on her lips.

Dany looked past him in the same direction before pulling him in for a longer kiss. “I dreamt of our children last night.” She murmured against his lips

“You did? And how many would there have been?” He smiled and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth.

“Three, two silverhaired ones and one with dark curls.” She sighed and leaned into him.

“Mmmh, what are the chances that I am the father of at least one of them?” He teased relishing the feel of her body relaxing into his. 

“Aegon!” She protested putting her hands on his chest applying a bit of pressure so there was once again some space between them.

“Just kidding, my sweet. I’ll pray tonight that our dreams come true.” He put his hands on top of hers that still lay against his chest and caressed the back of them with his thumb.

“Our dreams? You dreamt it as well? Aegon, was it once of those dreams that can come true?” Her eyes had widened in surprise.

“Greendreams, Dany. That’s what Lord Reed calls them. And yes, I had some. I am half Targaryen after all.” His eyes had lost their playfulness and she knew he was speaking the truth.

“And you would have told me that eventually?”

“Of course. Probably in the midst of making them.” His voice grew deeper, his eyes darker and he drew her lower body against his again letting her feel the effect she had on him.

“Aegon, they are heading our way again.” Her cheeks had a lovely rosy colour and he kissed each one of them before releasing her.

They resumed their walk. Jon with his arm tightly around her waist, their sides touching each other with each step they took.

He leaned his head towards her and whispered sensually in her ear. “I dream of that too, you know. Not a greendream, just a dream of a man who is in love. I dream of us together in a big featherbed and how I enjoy hearing your moans as I pleasure you.”

“Am I embarrassing you?” He asked when he saw the colour of her cheeks grow a deeper red than before.

“Perhaps a little. Irri has been explaining some of this in detail. Your words are making me feel exactly as she described. I feel a tingling, a longing deep in my belly. It makes me want to rub my legs together.” She whispered averting her eyes embarrassed at her confession.

“Please look at me. Never feel embarrassed or afraid to tell me how you feel, dearest.” Jon reassured her. “I will want to know what feels good when I touch you. And I certainly want you to tell me to stop when I do things you’d rather not have me do or when the Gods forbid I might hurt you. That is the only way we will both be able to enjoy our couplings. And that is my goal since I will want to couple often.”

A short silence fell between them and they walked on for a while before Daenerys gathered the courage to respond. “Irri told me uh men want to do it all the time. Women don’t feel the need that often but are uh obliged to be uh available for their husbands and are not allowed to complain.” 

Jon stopped walking and waited to speak until she looked at him. “I’ll consider it a challenge. I won’t force you to do anything when you do not feel like it but I will do everything in my power to convince you to change your mind. I will make you long for my caresses, my kisses and I will not rest until you beg me to place my member inside you and to take you over and over again.”

“Aegon, stop. I am getting uncomfortable.” Dany whispered beet red now. “My smallclothes are getting moist.”

Jon looked around. “If only we were alone in a secluded spot. I would lick you clean down there.”

“Aegon, you are only making things worse.” She whispered.

Jon kissed her hair. “I am sorry, my love. I was only trying to prove a point. Not only men have desires. Just ask Irri. The fact that you are growing wet down there means that your body is yearning for our coupling. I have been told that some women want it more often than men.”

Jon looked over his shoulder to his Kingsguards who were keeping a discreet distance but were looking at them all the same. He swallowed thickly. “Let’s resume our walk.” 

“Aegon, you promised me before you wouldn’t take my maidenhood before we were married in the eyes of the Old Gods.” Her eyes were still smouldering with arousal when she looked at him.

He tightened the grip on her shoulder for a moment. “And I won’t. But there are many things we might do without taking the final step. Just ask Irri.” He repeated his earlier advice.

He freed her shoulder and instead took her hand and weaved their fingers together. “Let’s cool off a bit.” He proposed and pulled her closer to the shoreline until they were ankle-deep in the salty water.

In a normal conversational tone he asked her. “Have you taken steps to appoint ladies-in-waiting yet?”

“No I haven’t. I intended to wait until everything was out in the open. That way I can get to know more noble ladies and have a wider choice than the few who are allowed to know I am in Westeros”.

“And what do you think about the comment Prince Oberyn made about Ser Jorah?” Jon asked her while observing the colour of her cheeks slowly returning to a more normal hue.

“He has been with me since before Ser Darry died. I have no reason to mistrust him.” She looked at him.

“Yet you seem hesitant.” Jon remarked. “I only met him a few times that one sennight but I recall you writing to me how he was willing to take on a fierce looking Dothraki Khal who towered over him.”

“I shall write him that he should come to Dragonstone as soon as he has obtained the information Varys needs.” She decided.

Jon kissed the top of her head. “Let’s head back to the stables behind my grandmother’s home. That way we can reach Dragonstone before it is dark. I promised Ser Gerold not to stay out too late.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed disappointed.

“I only accepted after he agreed to arrange for us to enter the castle unseen and weather permitting, our supper will be served on the balcony in your room. Irri will need to be present in your bedchamber as a chaperone so your virtue isn’t in any danger.” He smiled when he saw the joy reappear in her eyes.

“Better Irri than my former Septa.” Dany replied relieved that their fairy tale like day wasn’t coming to a close yet. “Thank you, Aegon. You really could not have planned a lovelier day for me.”

He kissed the top of her head once more and repeated his earlier confession. “I did it for you as well as for myself, my love.”

No more words were spoken for a time. They enjoyed the last moments of their short vacation at the Driftmark.

 

***

 

The next day, everything went back to its normal routine. Only now, when things got tedious, Jon had the memories of that day to keep him motivated to work towards his goal. All these audiences and strategy meetings were just small steps in the big plan that would get him on the throne next to the Queen of his heart and the mother of his future children.

He spent many hours reading messages and answering them. The tidings from Winterfell were all positive. Lord Reed knew to expect him for another quick visit and the status reports from the Wall were confirming everything was still moving forward according to plan.

He had finished a long message and sat back trying to imagine his life in King’s Landing. His thoughts wandered to the heightened security measures here and wondered how it would be once he was King. Seven Kingsguards would be dedicated exclusively to his protection. He sighed and considered how bored Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell must be standing about in the hallway while he was safely ensconced in his rooms taking his time writing messages. Perhaps there would be even more attending the doors of his royal quarters in the Red Keep. He frowned suddenly and quickly made for the door.

“Ser Gerold, might I have a word? Would come in, please?” Jon stepped aside to let his Lord Commander in.

“Something the matter, my Prince?” Ser Gerold asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

“Not with me, not now.” Jon answered. “I know we decided not to discuss the Royal Guard until after I return from beyond the Wall but I there is something that has been nagging at me ever since our conversation on this topic.”

Ser Gerold kept his stiff posture even though his Prince gestured from him to take a seat at the table across from him.

“If it is in my power to enlighten you, I am only too willing to do so.” He answered formally.

Jon sighed. Perhaps he should have asked Ser Arthur. The Sword of the Morning was less formal and a bit easier to talk to. “Ever since our discussion on the separation of duties between the three divisions of the Royal Guard, I have been wondering how you three happened to be at the Tower of Joy and Ser Barristan at the Trident. You were all White Knights, sworn to protect King Aerys II who resided in the Red Keep during the Rebellion. You were his Lord Commander.”

Jon had to look up to see the knight’s expression change. Now it was Ser Gerold’s turn to sigh. He dropped his shoulders a little and belatedly accepted the offered chair. 

“That is a fair question that has a rather delicate answer.” He admitted after was seated.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot and I am glad you all survived.” Jon hesitated but continued. “I just want to understand.”

“It was not easy to serve King Aerys II the last years of his reign, my Prince. Not only was he contradicting his own orders, he had been growing paranoid and it became clear to those close to him who saw him daily that he was no longer fit to rule the Seven Kingdoms. We were all suffering under the whims of a man who showed increasing signs of madness. 

Your father, Prince Rhaegar confided in us his plans to overthrow his father for the sake of the realm and ask for our support. If all had gone according to plan, your father would have garnered the support of the important Lords of the realm at the tourney of Harrenhal but at the last moment King Aerys II decided to grace the tournament with his presence and the plans were delayed.”

“That still doesn’t explain things.” Jon ventured when Ser Gerold paused.

“I am getting there, my Prince. I just recounted the delayed coup to make you understand that we sort of regarded your father as the Rightful King from that moment on. When the Rebellion started and they began to win battles, your grandfather the King ordered most of his Kingsguard to help the war effort. He was safe in the Red Keep and we would be of more use helping his son lead the royal army into battle and defeat the rebels once and for all. When I tried to protest he threatened to have me killed. His paranoia had made him execute more than one loyal man so I relented and left with Prince Rhaegar.”

“To fight at the Trident?” Jon asked 

“To follow Prince Rhaegar. This happened some time before the battle of the Trident.” Ser Gerold amended. “From that moment on I obeyed the command of my Prince and future King. Even if at one point his orders were to stay behind and guard his pregnant wife in Dorne. I did object respectfully but adhered to his wishes when he all but begged me to comply. The rest is history.”

Their conversation had ended shortly after and Jon had thanked him and resumed his activities. 

 

***

 

The seventh night since Jon had arrived on Dragonstone he was plagued by strange dreams. He dreamt of vast plains of mountains of ice with no one around for as far as the eye could see. Then the dream shifted and he saw the Night King approaching him out of nowhere. Jon tried to move his feet but he couldn’t lift either of them. They seemed stuck in the snow. Suddenly the dream shifted again and Jon realised immediately he was no longer dreaming. He saw the dead march toward Hardhome and felt helpless when they detected the scouts of the Free Folk and simply overpowered them making them march in their army mere moments later. A warning voice resounded in his head. _‘Go North. It is time. Go North.’_

Jon departed the next day before dawn. He left a short apology for Dany and a concise message for Sam to read out loud to the members of his Small Council. He still made the promised stop at Greywater Watch. 

 

***

 

Lord Reed and Bran stood outside when he arrived. After a quick greeting all three began to talk at once. Then they all stopped and a silence fell.

“Your Night King, he uses the trees to see us. Be careful near a heart tree. His magic is growing stronger.” Lord Reed spoke quietly as if afraid others might overhear.

“My Night King?” Jon remarked offended. “I came to warn you about a force pulling at me in the Godswood. Luckily I got away clean when Davos touched me. I could have sworn it was someone who meant me no harm at first before the feeling changed drastically.”

“That was me at first. I am so sorry to have put you in harm’s way.” Bran confessed. “I was experimenting. I just had been taught greenseers were able to contact each other over a vast distance using the heart trees as a medium.” His little cousin bowed his head in shame.

“I don’t blame you, Bran. But your teacher should have known better.” He turned to Lord Reed. “Why are you so sure it was the Night King that took over?” 

“I have no doubt about this.” Lord Reed affirmed ignoring the slight directed at him. “I recognised him from another vision. Beware Jon, the Night King is a powerful greenseer as well.” 

“I had sort of reached that conclusion myself. But now that I know the danger, I will not pray in front of a heart tree in solitude any longer. I’ll always see to it that someone has my back. Do you think others are in danger as well? I can’t decree that the Lords of the North are temporarily forbidden to pray to the Old Gods.”

“I don’t think so.” Lord Reed exchanged a look with Bran. “We are fairly sure he is searching for you, Jon. He found out somehow that you are the Son of Ice and Fire and the fate of the realm will be decided between the both of you. He might have had the same vision you had.”

Jon ignored the use of another dramatic title for his role in the coming war and looked at his young cousin. “I pray he hasn’t seen more than the three of us combined. Are you okay, Bran? He hasn’t threatened you?”

“I am okay, Jon. I am careful and stay close to Lord Reed as much as possible. Did you know already that I can fly a long distance inside a bird now? I am training with an eagle, just like your friend Orell. Lord Reed and I have been thinking of ways to help you. We do not want you to face the Night King alone. When the time comes, we want to be there. Not in person but in the mind of a bird or an animal. Perhaps we can distract him during your fight.” His cousin’s enthusiasm grew.

“Those are future strategies. I am not about to face the Night King for some time. I only came here to warn you about the dangers of being alone in a Godswood. I’m sorry but something urges me north. I feel compelled to hurry. If you have no more news, I -would like to continue my journey right this instant.

Lord Reed gestured for a servant to approach. “At least take these provisions with you. It is a cake baked with a lot of greens in them. Keep up your strength. You will need it for the coming fight. Take care, Jon.” His eyes accentuated his words as did the deliberate gesture of placing the bag in Jon’s hands and holding on to these hands a little bit longer than usual.

They took their leave of each other with a short group embrace and a short moment later, Jon was in the air again.

 

 

**Interlude 31: Tournament preparations**

“No you are not allowed to raise your prices.” Yohn Royce reprimanded the delegation of innkeepers. “The Crown will investigate each complaint. We will send out broadcasters to announce the proscribed price for a room and encourage anyone to come forward who is being charged more.”

“This is the only time of the year we can make a decent profit.” The spokesman of the innkeepers protested.

“Nonsense,” Lord Royce ignored the exaggerated complaint. “Now let’s talk about the price of food and drink.” 

The Regent of the Vale sighed unobtrusively. At first he had been proud to be given such a big responsibility. He had even been given a temporary position on King Robert’s Small Council and had learned a lot already. But now he knew why Lord Eddard Stark had proclaimed him Chief Organiser of the Royal Tournament. It was just a grand title for a list of annoying tasks. 

He still had to check the sites where the tents were planned to be raised. He needed to see to the tents meant to shelter the royal family and their more important guests when they viewed the spectacle unhindered by any type of weather. Then he needed to see to the tents that had been allowed to be set up just outside the city gates to house the new arrivals for whom no longer rooms could be found inside the city walls. 

The City Watch needed to be briefed about the extra duties one more time, the tradesmen needed to increase the import of food and drink. Temporary decrees about access to certain streets, extra torches, the expanding of the training yards for the jousters, smaller tents for the knights and their squires, temporary barracks to house the extra equipment, he sighed and checked the long list one more time. Oh he had forgotten all about the translators he had asked to come over. Perhaps he could find room for them with a noble family willing to take them in for a small fee.

“Lord Royce?” A servant entered the room he had been assigned to receive the delegations he needed to negotiate with. “More knights wanting to enlist have arrived and are currently waiting in the courtyard. But first the Hand of the King asks if you would attend him and the King in the King’s study.” The servant bowed and left the room.

Lord Royce turned his attention back to the innkeepers who were still lingering near the exit, unwilling to depart before attempting to negotiate a better deal once more time.

“We are finished here, gentlemen. Be sure to heed these rules. The crown will keep a close eye on the situation.” His tone left no room to wiggle. The fact that he was the one to quit the room abruptly, ended the meeting anyway. With big strides he headed for the opposite side of the Red Keep.

“If only the tournament were finished already. Or even better, if only the Targaryen Prince swept up the throne already then this cursed tournament would surely be cancelled.” He muttered under his breath while he approached the King’s study. 

 

“Ah, Lord Royce. Thank you for coming so swiftly. We have a small request to make of you.” The Hand of the King stood to the side of the room. The King sat behind his large ostentatious desk both hands on his belly looking expectantly at Lord Royce.

Not long after, Lord Royce left the room not knowing if he should feel honoured or trapped. He had just agreed to spend the next day going on a hunt with his Grace, King Robert. His Hand needed to see to urgent matters of state and the King needed someone he could trust and act as a substitute friend. And of course the valiant Regent of the Vale was the best choice and would he please also be willing to make all the arrangements? He had been tasked to ask the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to see to extra security in light of the recent assassination attempts, enquire after the new armour and make sure that it fit the contours of the Kings slightly enlarged girth.

He startled when Prince Oberyn stopped him on his way to the stable master. The Prince gestured him to enter the private stable where the full blood stallion of the Prince of Dorne had been given shelter.

“Lord Stark asked if I were willing to join the royal hunt but I declined. Listen to me. First of all, let Thoros of Myr help you with the tournament preparations. Not only will you benefit greatly from his assistance, the man has been talking of leaving because he felt useless here and we want him in the capital when our Prince arrives.” Prince Oberyn smiled slyly at a confused Lord Royce.

“I want you to keep your eyes and ears open and find out all the little habit of the King when out on a hunt. How long does he pursue an animal? What is the animal he prefers to hunt? Does he perform the kill himself? What does he eat, drink? How often does he rest? Things like that. Report only to me and for heaven sake do not tell Eddard Stark about our conversation.” 

“Why the Seven Hells not?” Lord Royce was taken aback by this unusual request. “What are you scheming this time?”

“Something Varys and I have come up with together, I’ll have you know. Something to help the Prince’s cause along. Lord Varys has received the Prince’s permission to circumvent his Uncle, the Hand of the King if necessary. We need to keep the man honest.” Prince Oberyn slightly bent the truth.

“Doing this will help the Targaryen Prince?” Lord Royce asked to be sure.

“Certainly. And he will be very grateful to you afterwards. I’ll make sure he knows you were essential in bringing this plan to its successful conclusion.” Prince Oberyn tapped the shoulders of the Knight of the Vale.

“I’ll report back to you this evening if I am able to find you.” Lord Royce promised having made up his mind.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you. If not, Varys will contact you and you can relay all you have observed during your hunt tomorrow to him. Now make the necessary arrangements for the hunt and then find Thoros of Myr and let him take over some of the preparations for the tournament you were planning on carrying out tomorrow.” 

Without waiting for a reaction, Prince Oberyn pushed him out of the spacious stable toward the small shed where the stable master could be found. 

Later that night Lord Royce laid awake thinking things through. He had decided to just play along for now. He was not made for these duplicitous political games. He took heart in the conversation between him and Lord Stark the other night. They had been discussing how to appease King Robert’s demands to send more spies to Essos to report on the activities of the Targaryen Princess. Lord Stark had shared his feelings of unease but had comforted him stating that things would be different under his nephew’s rule. The Targaryen Prince held his honour as high as a trueborn Stark.

“Soon things will get better.” He muttered to himself before he drifted off in a dreamless sleep.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will finally feature the battle beyond the Wall


	32. The battle near Hardhome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always Ravenousreadr did her best to improve the reading quality of the chapter. Thanks dear friend!

*

Jon had left his dragons on the beach near the fortress of Eastwatch and waited patiently for the large gates to be opened. Walking through them he noticed immediately that the guards had been doubled and extra bolts had been added to the gate. Once inside he observed several new lookout posts and fortifications. Quickly crossing the courtyard he neared the blacksmith’s workshop. 

None of the familiar hammering sounds could be when he approached the main entrance of the building. He was about to reach for the door handle when the guard that had been assigned to accompany him to the main building spoke up. 

“He left for Hardhome a few days ago. Some friends of his arrived with a delegation of men from the northern houses. They all left together and took the white wolf with them.”

“Was there a lady among these friends?” Jon asked just to be absolutely certain that Lady Brienne, Edric and Loras had reached Eastwatch safely.

“Yes, big as a man she was. She rode up front when the group entered our gates. Behaved as if she owned the place, she did. She was accompanied by a large lord, a son from house Umber I think but he made it quite clear she wasn’t his wife. Commander Belmore will likely be able to tell you more.”

They stopped before the main building. Jon turned to the guard and dismissed him with authority. “Thanks for escorting me. I can find my way to the commander’s quarters easily from here.”

“Your welcome, Prince.” The man hesitated but turned and left without further comment.

Relieved that the man had agreed to leave him alone, Jon quickly searched for a secluded spot and leaned against the wall. For most of the way here, he had been so focused on his dragons, merging their minds as he flew in. He had also spent considerable time mentally rehashing all the warfare advice he had received during their last strategy meeting on Dragonstone. All this had kept him so busy that he had not once reached out to his direwolf. He closed his eyes and easily slipped into Ghost’s skin.

His direwolf was running along a long row of foot soldiers until he reached the front of the caravan. Through Ghost’s red eyes he saw Lady Brienne leading the caravan flanked by a man all dressed in black and another one bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Greatjon but much younger than the head of house Umber. Behind them rode Edric and Loras closely followed by Gendry atop a large horse seemingly in an easy conversation with Rykker and Stokeworth. 

Searching Ghost’s mind for the distance the caravan had already travelled, Jon realised that if he continued his journey today, he would still be able to arrive at Hardhome before them. Being a dragonrider had its perks. He reassured Ghost to continue onwards promising he would meet up with them at their destination and severed the connection. Pushing himself off of the wall, he walked with big strides towards to the end of the hallway.

Elbert Belmore, the garrison commander at Eastwatch received him readily and allowed him to read Sandor Clegane’s message that had prompted everyone to leave without waiting for the Prince and his dragons. When Jon had finished reading Sandor’s chicken scratch, Belmore told him that even though he had not joined the delegation personally, he had appointed an experienced ranger going by the name of Stane to command the one hundred and fifty men he had selected to join the fight. He also volunteered the information that Stokeworth and Rykker were part of that group. A raven from Cotter Pyke at Castle Black brought the news that two hundred Night’s Watch recruits were travelling from Castle Black to Hardhome to help defend the Free Folk settlement. They were scheduled to arrive there in four days at the latest.

“The guard that escorted me here told me a delegation from the northern houses arrived as well?” Jon asked when the commander fell silent.

“Indeed. They were led here by Lord Umber’s third son, Osric Umber, a lady Brienne of Tarth and a few other noble men. A lot of Boltons amongst them I must say.” His peculiar tone when he uttered this last piece of information indicated he wouldn’t mind hearing some details about what had transpired at the Dreadfort a moon earlier.

Jon nodded but offered no further information. Instead he changed the subject and remarked how impressed he was with the heightened security measures, congratulating the man on all that had been accomplished in the short time since his previous visit.

Belmore shrugged his shoulders. “I only followed orders. You never know what will happen once you engage such a formidable enemy. I can’t begin to imagine what a host of fifty thousand strong looks like. I hope the dragons can make a difference. They are magnificent creatures.”

“They are.” Jon agreed. “So you are prepared for the eventuality that part of the enemy might come for the Wall here?”

“Cotter Pyke was very insistent that the Wall is our last line of defense and my place as the commander of Eastwatch is here. Under my leadership, the remaining members of the Night’s Watch will make sure that not a single wight or magical ice creature will reach the other side of the Wall. We are ready to defend the entrance to the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.

Jon nodded. “I am glad the Night’s Watch takes the threat so seriously. Thanks for bringing me up to speed. I won’t take up more of your time and will leave for Hardhome immediately. Hpefully we will see each other soon with good tidings to impart. Keep well, Commander Belmore.” Jon’s tone indicated that the interview was at an end.

“Good fortune in the battle to come, my Prince.” Elbert Belmore responded with the formal send-off appropriate when men left to engage an enemy. “I will pray you, your dragons and my men will all return safely to Eastwatch before long. ”

 

***

 

Soon after Jon and his dragons flew low over the beautiful green and white landscape. Hardhome was already visible in the distance when he spotted the large caravan below him. The dragons screeched and he could see the caravan stutter to a halt when most of the men’s heads turned toward the sky. To oblige them, Viserion and Rhaegal flew a few low circles over the group. Jon used the opportunity to wave at them before he asked the dragons to pick up speed again and head for the settlement of Hardhome.

Sandor and Tormund were there to welcome him as soon as he emerged from the woods where the dragons had landed. After the hugs were dispensed with, Jon joined a large group around a campfire and accepted a bowl of steaming stew. While he ate, Sandor brought him up to speed. According to the latest scouting reports, both from the air and from scouts on the grounds, the enemy had picked up their pace and would reach the appointed spot in less than a sennight.

“Much earlier than we estimated.” Jon sighed. “The good news is that they are still on the right course then.” Jon swallowed another tasteful spoonful of delicious gravy. He bowl was almost empty.

“It is as if they can sense the thousands of warm blooded bodies for them to recruit and grow more eager the nearer they get.” Tormund grunted. “Want a refill?” He held out his hand to accept Jon’s empty bowl.

“I’d love a bit more. Perhaps half a portion? This is really delicious.” Jon answered.

“Clegane’s spearwife hunted the boar but lucky for you, someone else made the stew.” Tormund showed nearly all his teeth when he grinned.

“Ygritte is here?” Jon turned to Sandor who had been a silent observer until now.

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept her away. So I didn’t even try to persuade her to stay behind.” Sandor answered looking slightly embarrassed.

“More like your red-haired minx didn’t trust the other spearwives not to steel her most prized possession.” Tormund teased benevolently. “She has been boasting far and wide that she caught the strongest, fiercest male who knows when to dominate and when to yield between her furs.”

“Then she only has herself to blame if other women want to steal him. She should have kept all his nicer qualities a secret. Sandor sure kept some of them from us.” Jon teased and looked from Tormund’s grinning face to Sandor’s red cheeks. 

“Best get her with child as soon as possible, Sandor.” The new father offered his advice. “Once you share a child together, the Free Folk will respect your claim on her and hers on you. I experience this every day and still can’t get used to it.” Tormund shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.

“That I can imagine.” Jon continued the banter. “Poor Tormund here misses the salivating females when he struts past them.” 

“Myra’s not here and my hand is out of practice.” Tormund Giantsbane moved his hips suggestively. “Want to help out?”

“Thanks but no thanks.” Jon smiled slipping more easily in the open ways of communicating with the Free Folk now than during his former visits. “About that stew you promised me?”

 

***

 

It was dark when the combined forces of the northern houses and the Night’s Watch reached Hardhome. Their arrival had been heralded by Ghost who unceremoniously entered Jon’s tent not long after Jon had finished setting it up. Jon had been in the process of spreading his furs into a makeshift bed when he got toppled by his direwolf and fell upon the heap of furs. After being licked, nudged and sniffed all over Jon pushed Ghost off him and persuaded the direwolf to guide him to the new arrivals. 

A warm welcome and some introductions followed but were cut short because of the dark and cold at this time of night. Jon and some of the Free Folk ordered to do so by Tormund helped the new arrivals to set up camp. Even if the atmosphere between the strange mixture of men was rather tense, the tents were erected in record time and they all agreed to reconvene in the morning since the travellers were tired and half frozen from traipsing across the icy landscape for several days. 

Ghost had stayed glued to Jon’s side the entire time and the both of them quickly retired to Jon’s small tent to enjoy a cosy night sleeping closely together relishing each other’s nearness and body warmth. But not before Jon had read the letters from Robb and Uncle Benjen that Lady Brienne had handed him. 

The next morning Tormund fetched him for breakfast and after sharing a light meal with Sandor and Ygritte inside their small tent, he helped set up a larger tent for a war council. This time several men of Free Folk offered the Dragonrider their help without Tormund needing to urge them on. The extra hands were readily accepted since a strong wind made their task rather difficult. Not long after, Jon’s friends started to emerge from their tents one by one. Ghost jumped Gendry as soon as the dark haired young men showed his face. 

“Do I have a reason to be jealous?” Jon smiled when he saw Gendry having trouble not to lose his balance when his direwolf front paws leaned heavily against Gendry’s chest.

Gendry raised one eyebrow in mock dismay. “You better thank me for taking such good care of this sweet direwolf that you so shamefully abandoned.” Gendry petted Ghost’s head and scratched him behind his ears. “Poor Ghost keeps getting left behind when you fly all over the realm.”

“Thank you my dear loyal Gendry for taking care of poor lonesome Ghost.” Jon’s overstated show of obedience got an answering grin from Gendry.   
“And a good morning to you my dear friend. I trust you slept well?” Jon added.

“Fairly. I missed my warm companion that no doubt slept in your tent. So no, you have no reason to be jealous. Instead I had to suffer the company of Edric and Loras Tyrell.” His blue Baratheon eyes studied Jon.   
“You look well, Jon. Things all right on Dragonstone?” Gendry released Ghost who immediately positioned himself near Jon again.

“Dany sends her greetings.” Jon’s happy smile while he absently petted Ghost said it all.

“That well uh?” Gendry looked at Jon trying to read more details of his face.

“We’re betrothed.” Jon beamed but jumped when somebody touched his shoulder.

“Did I hear this right?” Edric exclaimed coming up behind Jon, his mouth close to Jon’s ear. “Are you the first one of us to bind himself to a female?”

“Is she as lovely as the rumours say she is?” Loras Tyrell piped in.

“Congratulations, my Prince.” Lady Brienne offered him with a bow.

“Thanks” Jon had turned and addressed the three that had snuck up on them. “But please keep it quiet for now. We are at war. There is a time and a place for such a topic and it is not now. I will tell you all about my lovely princess as soon as we have dealt with what is coming for us. Eat your breakfast and tell me about Robb instead. I want to hear from you how he has been doing. His letter only speaks of how well his arm has been healing and how he had everything under control at Winterfell.”

While Sandor and Tormund roused the rest of the encampment to spread the word that the leaders were expected at the war council shortly after breakfast, Jon and Ghost sat down and kept their friends company while they broke their fast. Jon was content to just sit there quietly and be a silent participant, listening to their easy banter typical for people used to being in each other’s company for long stretches of time. At least their reports of Robb were positive. His cousin’s nightmares were becoming less frequent and Robb was itching to resume his training.

 

***

 

Ghost reluctantly agreed to stay outside when Jon neared the larger tent where most of the men had already gathered. Rykker and Stokeworth greeted him at the entrance. They took up guard under a canopy further shielded by a side pane from the rather strong wind that blew in from the north and made it feel extra cold this morning.

“Only first ranger Stane still needs to arrive. The rest are already inside waiting for you.” Rykker announced and opened a flap to allow Jon to enter the war tent.

Lord Osric Umber, third son of the Greatjon Umber was there representing a group of almost two hundred men sent by several houses of the North. He had also assumed command of the Bolton contingent. Male servants and guards of the Dreadfort had all volunteered to join the fight. If they fought valiantly they would be given the chance to pledge a new oath to their Lord and return to their home and kin as free men. Lord Domeric Bolton had asked Lord Umber’s son to keep an eye on this group since Domeric Bolton had only shortly been released at Winterfell and was needed to set things to right at the Dreadfort. He handed Jon a letter from Lord Bolton that contained further explanations and probably some pledges of loyalty and obedience.

Tormund of course spoke for the Free Folk he had brought along from Mance Rayder’s settlement. He introduced Jon to a few of the elders who represented the people living at Hardhome. A Skagosi named Stane entered at that point and introduced himself as the one representing the men of the Night’s Watch that had come from Eastwatch. Jon would later learn from Rykker that Stane had joined the Night’s Watch when he was barely fourteen years old and was a well-respected first ranger at Eastwatch. 

Sandor was present as well. His only contribution to the meeting was to inform everyone that they could expect reinforcements from Castle Black to reach them in a few days. They were led by Jaime Lannister. For the rest of the meeting Clegane kept silent his eyes mostly resting on Jon.

Tormund quickly apprised everybody of the traps that were already in place and the ones they still hoped to complete with the help of the Dragonrider. Dragonfire could thaw the frozen ground which would speed up the digging of the trenches along the flank where they planned to put a barrier of pikes to set aflame. The last day before the enemy was upon them, Jon would use his dragons to weaken the ice on the borders of the large frozen lake where they intended to trap and destroy the enemy if all went well.

Jon relayed to them the pieces of advice he had been given by his Kingsguards on Dragonstone. He warned everyone to stay vigilant, dress warm enough and move about when you felt the cold creep in. 

“Do not bring your usual steel weapons and carry several pieces of dragonglass. See that enough torches and fire sources are available to burn our own dead should we suffer losses. Be prepared for a longer period of darkness than normal for this time of the season and expect the enemy to learn and devise countermeasures as the battle goes on. 

But the most important thing is to aim for the White Walkers. Aim for their chest and use only dragonglass when you confront them. Fire or steel is useless against them. The wights are more easily defeated. They are extremely vulnerable to dragonglass, just pierce them anywhere. One shallow cut and they perish. Setting them alight with fire is also very effective.

We should also prepare at least one healer’s tent close behind our battle lines. The less experienced warriors can help bring our wounded there to give them better odds at surviving.”

When everyone nodded and Jon stressed once more how the use of dragonglass would save their lives, Tormund rolled his eyes. Jon didn’t hesitate to address his big friend with a telling look on his face. 

“Have your scouts been reporting back regularly?”

“Half of them have not yet returned.” Tormund looked at Jon, a worried frown appearing on his forehead. “Have you seen something when you flew in?”

“No I haven’t. Let’s just say I have a bad feeling.” Jon was not willing to elaborate on the source of his intelligence. Who would take him seriously if he explained that he dreamt of their scouts being incorporated in the army of the dead? 

“I suggest you do not send more out for the time being. Is Orell here or are there any other skinchangers available?” He asked instead. “We better limit ourselves to scouting from up high for now. If the enemy gets closer, scouts on the ground will be in grave danger. The enemy host is extensive. They can cover a large area. Once detected, our scouts are easily outnumbered and don’t stand a chance.”

“Has anyone any questions so far?” Jon asked looking one by one at the grave faces of the men assembled in the war tent.

“Burning our own fallen friends, is that really necessary?” Osric Umber asked. “Their families at home will not understand.”

“We can’t run the risk of them becoming slaves of the White Walkers. Can you imagine yourself fighting your best friend who has become a mindless warrior who knows no fear and feels no pain and will take of your head if you don’t defend yourself?”

Lord Umber was speechless. He shook his head in denial.

Jon continued on. “As I see it there are only two choices. If one of our own falls, you can either burn his body directly but remember his name so all names of our brave fallen defenders can be recorded for posterity, or if circumstance allow and you have the opportunity without jeopardising your own life during the battle, you can firmly bind your fallen fellow soldier’s hands and feet.”

Jon sighed deeply and gazed seriously at Lord Umber now. “Even if you successfully tied up our own dead and they happen to be resurrected, you will still have to burn their bodies. But there is a chance it won’t come to that and you can take them home for a ceremonial burial.”

Osric looked around and addressed the men of the Free Folk. “Do you all believe that what the Prince says is possible?” 

“I fought dead children of my tribe once. I cut off the little boy’s arm with my own sword but he kept coming at me. Even when I beheaded him, his tiny body kept creeping toward me.” It was one of the representatives from Hardhome who spoke up. “I also fought a wildcat that looked more like a skeleton. The Dragonriders speaks true. They raise the dead.”

A silence followed these words and Lord Umber swallowed and bowed his head starting to accept that this would be a different fight than he could ever have imagined.

Jon cleared his throat and was quick to move their attention away from the morbid topic. The best way was to get the men to concentrate on the battle strategy. It would also give them hope that they could win the battle without suffering too many losses.

“Now let’s talk about the positions each of your men will take up and how we will need to move as one to lure the enemy further on the ice. Tormund, can you explain the strategy we devised together with Mance Rayder?” 

In the end it was decided that Jon would leave the scouting to Orell and a fellow warg while he and his dragons devoted their time to helping the men dig the trenches. 

 

***

 

The war council reconvened that evening to hear the reports of the scouting mission. It became clear that there were only two days left before the enemy reached the appointed spot. Jon reassured them that they had made enormous progress today with the traps and that they would be ready for the enemy.

There was much worse news. The White Walkers had also sent a small contingent to the west to prevent the reinforcements marching towards them from Castle Black to reach their ranks in time for the battle. 

Jon had counted on that group of men under the command of Jaime Lannister. Several amongst them had fought the dead at the Fist of the First Men and knew what they were facing. He had also hoped that Jaime Lannister could have taken a look at their battleplan and perhaps could have made some last minute recommendations. But most of all, he had counted on the former knight to lead a part of the attack if not coordinate with all the other leaders and take charge of the entire battle on the ground.

Jon’s first impulsive reaction had been to take his dragons and help the group from Castle Black get past the dead but he had been halted by Orell’s words. The skinchanger had reminded him that the main host of the dead were near. The Dragonrider was sorely needed here for the last preparations. 

Moreover, he would play right in the enemy’s cards if he drew the dragons away from the larger battle they were about to face. Jon had been reassured by the fact that the forces Jaime Lannister was bringing outnumbered the enemy heading for them by about three to one. They would only be delayed and would eventually reach them. Just not in time to be briefed before the start of the battle.

One thing was clear now. The enemy knew what they were about and had a way to scout as well. Perhaps White Walkers were also wargs or had some other form of magic at their disposal. It was a scary thought. During the war council everyone had supported Orell, the men from the North for once agreeing without argument with Sandor, Tormund and several other leaders of the Free Folk. So Jon had relented and had stayed put. He had worked hard helping them put the last traps in place and had started to weaken the borders of the lake. The final weakening would be done just before the enemy came into their line of sight. If he did it a bit too early, the stretch of weakened ice would just grow thicker again and all his efforts would have been for naught. 

When Orell’s final scouting report reached them with a new headcount of the enemy’s forces, they all agreed that the next morning, the fighting force would set up camp further away from the settlement of Hardhome nearer to the location they had chosen to confront the enemy. 

Jon with the help of Tormund had finally been able to persuade the leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome to evacuate their weakest members to the ships. Nobody could guarantee that all the traps would work flawlessly and that they would successfully prevent a part of the enemy’s main host to split from the rest and head straight for all the warm living bodies at Hardhome. 

There only needed to be a single strategist amongst the enemy, one White Walker who got the bright idea to attack the settlement and countless lives could be lost. Jon knew they did not have the numbers to contain fifty thousand wights if not all of them walked into their trap. If that happened, the settlement at Hardhome was in great danger of being overrun. 

He once more cursed the fact that it had not been possible to bring the Free Folk south of the Wall. They could have used the natural defences built by his ancestors instead of being forced to meet an enemy that far outnumbered them in open country. Hopefully by the time the Night King finally made his appearance, which Jon prayed would still be a long, long time from now, the Lords of the North and the leaders of the Free Folk would have put aside their pride. Then the younger children and other Free Folk members not able to fight for one reason or other would be safe south of the Wall.

Now however, they had to rely on all the small obstacles they had put in place along the path the enemy was travelling so they would chose the easier path and walk straight onto the frozen lake. The Free Folk had worked hard on that and the skinchangers were keeping a close eye on the situation. If they did stray from the course that had been laid out for them, Jon would set part of the forest on fire to force them back on track.

No matter what precautions had been taken, evacuation was still the best way of safeguarding the non-fighting population of the Free Folk. When that decision had finally been reached, Jon described the best way to go about that, using the strategy worked out by Davos and Ser Gerold. They had devised detailed plans not only for a swift embarkment but also to arrange the defenses on the ships in case of an attack.

Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell had not been happy to have been assigned the responsibility of overseeing the evacuation and organising the defences of the fleet with refugees. But Jon had been adamant. They would be more helpful there. To silence Lady Brienne he had put her in command of the defense of the entire fleet. She had stopped protesting after he had given her a scroll written by Ser Gerold Hightower himself, detailing what weapons to take with them and some pointers on how to defend a fleet and to establish communications between the ships. 

Jon didn’t reveal to her, Edric nor Loras Tyrell that he preferred the leaders of his army to be men who had seen the enemy before and realised what they were up against. His friends had arrived when most of the preparations were in place and had never seen a wight before. And even though he knew that they would have agreed to be relegated to the role of simple foot soldiers, Jon would feel better if he knew they were making themselves useful in what would hopefully turn out to be a safer place.

Around noon on the last day before the battle, Jon ordered everyone with the exception of the appointed guards to take some time to rest up. They would all have to report for battle before the sun disappeared behind the large mountaintop. The leaders reconvened in the war tent to go over the strategy one last time. It was necessary they all moved in sync and knew what to do with the wounded and their own dead. Two tents dedicated to look after the wounded had been set up behind the battle lines and healers of the Free Folk were in charge of making these ready to accommodate as many victims as possible. Jon spent his last moments of peace seated against a tree with Ghost’s head in his lap and his dragons slumbering a few feet away.

 

***

 

**Shortly before dusk**

_‘You can prepare for battle all you want. You can be brave, have excellent plans and believe in your fellow soldiers. The fear still creeps up on you. If it hasn’t already, it will probably grip you in the time between finishing preparations and the start of the battle. It will course through you while you are standing there next to your fellow comrade-in-arms, in your protective gear armed to the teeth with nothing left to do than to wait for the enemy host to appear. Just as everyone around you, you are scared stiff but pretend to be brave just the same._

_To prevent you from shivering, you might try to crack a lame joke to the one standing to your left or right. You might even move your limbs a little to prevent them from getting stiff from the cold but you have to keep in mind not to break the lines and keep to your prearranged position. All the strategies are in place, everyone knows their role to play and once more you put on a blank face and go back to waiting and keeping silent to make sure you will be able to hear the sounds you have been told the approaching enemy will be making.’_

It was a passage from a book on warfare that Sam had read aloud to Jon to distract him and help settle his stomach when he had been ill on Dragonstone. The text seemed apt when he examined the impressive rows of their forces. Everything was prepared. They had done all they could. Every last man had received clear instructions. Their commanders had warned them to brace themselves and stay firm no matter what came for them, be it dead people, smelly rotten corpses of undead animals, or even mystical ice creatures. “Stay in formation and stick to the plan.”

Jon all dressed up for battle himself now reached the front line of the ranks. Even though he had never lived through a battle of this scale, he was no stranger to the fear that tries to overpower you right before a fight to the death. Walking through the ranks he was sure each of the men felt it deep down, even though few would admit to it, even if one were to ask them point blank. Jon walked by many soldiers. He smiled and nodded at them and was aware that most of the men were making every effort to put on a brave front. Just like the passage Sam had read to him. Some even smiled and wished him good fortune. The cocky ones that showed no fear were the ones in the most danger. At least that is what Ser Arthur had told him often enough. _‘It is better to fear your enemy than to overestimate yourself.’_

“See you after we have won and we will all share a pint together.” Jon had overheard several versions of that phrase from men speaking to their neighbouring brothers in arms. He kept walking past as many as possible in an attempt to bolster morale. He sometimes stopped to say a few words but it quickly became clear to him that that wasn’t enough to lift the predominant mood of fear. He couldn’t blame them. Even Tormund’s bold stare had wavered when Orell had told him the results of his last scouting mission.

The dead were marching toward them, their ranks had swollen with every living being they had found, be it animals or unfortunate scout. They numbered over fifty thousand easily. 

Jon heard the sound of a horn. He stilled and waited. Two more blasts followed. This was the confirmation the enemy had been sighted by the look outs up in the trees at the northern end of the lake. This was confirmation that Jon had made the right decision. His war council had been right. There had not been enough time to help the group from Castle Black and be back here for the start of the battle. His presence on the lake was crucial to their plan. He needed to trap them on the ice. Wights couldn’t swim. If he could melt the three edges of the frozen lake not facing the sea, no matter how many wights the enemy showed up with, they would all be sitting ducks for the dragonfire and dragonglass projectiles. They also counted on the fact that large chunks of ice would give in under their combined weight. 

The army of the living stood at the ready on the southern side of the lake. Every single one of them heavily armed. The ones on the front lines had large shields they could hide behind. They held a dragonglass weapon of their choice in the other hand and had one or more daggers tugged away in their belt. The following rows had two dragonglass weapons at the ready, one in each hand and also at least one spare item tucked under their belt. At least thanks to Gendry they had dragonglass weapons in abundance. He had almost walked along the entire width of the front lines and looked back over his shoulder to take in the impressive lines of warriors that started near the woods and only stopped near the shoreline. Resuming his inspection he suddenly halted when he saw Gendry standing ready on the first row with a large Warhammer on the ground beside him. Even though it was dark as hell by now, he easily recognised the distinctive silhouette of his friend and approached him.

“Gendry, don’t do anything reckless. Stay in formation. I need you to stay alive, you hear. Stick to the plan.”

“As long as the plan works, I will, Jon. If not, I’ll improvise. Don’t worry about me.” He showed his belt that contained several daggers and knifes to throw. His warhammer had been modified and now had several dragonglass spikes on all sides. “I will stay and protect the archers. But you know as well as I do that some, probably many of those dead abominations will break through and reach our ranks. I’ve come prepared.”

“Stay safe, Gendry.” Jon now petted his direwolf’s head. Since Jon would fight from the sky, he had ordered Ghost to keep Gendry company. He touched his wolf’s forehead and reaffirmed his order. 

“Ghost, stay with Gendry and guard the men here. Rhaegal and Viserion will look after me in the sky. I’ll be safe.” Ghost whined quietly but bowed his head which Jon recognised as the direwolf’s reluctant acceptance of the situation.

He had reached the shoreline and walked towards the large group of archers who would hopefully be the ones to make the largest number of casualties. If all went well the two armies would not really clash but be separated by a large gap of melted ice. The wights would be sitting ducks and be vulnerable to the rain of dragonglass arrows these men would launch upon them. He nodded and said some encouraging words while he walked past them to reach the small cavalry that was hidden back there. When he was close enough to be seen in the darkness, he nodded to Sandor who had been tasked to lead this small group of men on horseback. 

His former Kingsguard had been part of every strategy meeting. Jon remembered Sandor’s mumbling that the meetings here were fucking more boring than the ones held by Ser Gerold. Jon couldn’t blame him. But with the ragtag army they had assembled here, they needed to have a simple strategy. One understood by everyone and most of all they had needed a lot of patience to persuade every untrained soldier of the Free Folk that discipline and staying in formation could mean the difference between winning and losing a battle against this particular enemy. 

Reaching the back of the ranks Jon noticed several men shooting him nervous glances. His walk through the ranks had not been enough. Many men had not even gotten a glimpse of him. The men needed something more. They needed to see the might of the dragons. They needed to hear the right words. Words that could take the fear that could potentially cripple them and turn it in a form of positive energy they could use. He needed to find words that could transform their fear into fury, into hatred towards their enemy. Suddenly Jon knew what he had to do.

He hurried over to the place where the dragons were waiting for him. He felt their anxiety mingle with his own feelings. Rhaegal didn’t hesitate and lowered his wing so Jon could mount him. Moments later the two dragons were in the air. Approximately nine thousand heads turned upwards now.

Jon knew seeing the Dragonrider and his two mighty dragons at close range might give the men hope. And hope was the best motivation when you stood freezing in the snow and mud before a frozen lake waiting for your worst nightmare to attack you. He hoovered on his impressive green dragon in front of them, letting Viserion light up the sky occasionally and tried to appeal to their honour and pride. He repeated his speech three times, in three different location before the wide ranks so all the men were able to hear his words clearly at least once. He shouted as loud as his voice would allow him. 

“This will be the fight of nightmares, the worst kind of enemy you will ever face. But we are the living. We have brains, tactics and superior weapons. We know our enemy’s weaknesses. Forget your steel swords, fight with the dragonglass and use fire as we showed you and we, the living will prevail. They may come at us with superior numbers but they are just mindless corpses. We have a good plan and we have two dragons. If we close ranks, they will not stand a chance. The living will prevail. 

This night is a night for the history books. Everyone who fights here this night will be remembered as the heroes of this day and age. Songs will be sung about you, about the brave strong men up in the cold North that put aside thousands of years of infighting. Crows and Wildlings, Free Folk and men of the Night’s Watch standing side by side with the people that live south of the Wall to defeat the true enemy. Because defeat them we will! 

Tonight we all are the protectors of the living. We are the shields that guard the realms of men. Tonight we are the heroes that fight for the living. We fight for our future, for our children’s future and for the future of all the generations still to come. Because we are the living! And we fight for the living!”

“For the Living! For the living.” First some of the Free Folk but soon the entire army picked up the chant. Loud roar of two dragons could be heard and for a short moment all fear was forgotten. Pride and resolve had taken its place. The men could picture their survival. They could not keep their eyes off the two powerful dragons and felt safe in the knowledge that the enemy faced those fearsome beasts. The living had the Dragonrider on their side. They had a good plan. The living would prevail!

Jon flew alongside the frontline one more time reviewing the ranks. They all kept south of the frozen lake. When some had uttered the idea of hiding in the woods to flank the enemy Jon had slightly amended the idea. 

“They can sense us. I do not know how. I do not know whether it is because they can hear our heartbeat, sense our warmth or whether they use some sort of magic. All I know is that they can sense the living. And if they discover we have men stationed at the flank, they might venture off the lake too early and our plan will fail. Our trap will fail and we will be overrun before we can do anything about it. And the ones who were sent to flank them will all die. They would go on a suicide mission and their corpses might be forced to fight us next. Certainly you all remembered what happened to our scouts?”

Everyone attending the war council in the large tent had nodded their head in agreement. They knew all too well what had happened. Orell and another warg had done most of the scouting until then but had needed to rest up before the battle. The few scouts that had volunteered boasting they were the best and would never be detected, had not returned. When Orell urged by Jon had investigated, he had not brought back good news. The skinchanger had witnessed through the eyes of his eagle how hundreds of dead wights had all turned their heads as one in the direction of a scout and the unfortunate man had been overrun and soon marched alongside the dead back to the main host. He had become one of them.

From atop his dragon, Jon studied the ranks one last time and was proud of what they had accomplished in the last few days. For the moment even the Free Folk formed close, almost orderly formations. The only free spaces between the ranks were for the fires they had going, fires not only to provide light and warmth, but fire for the archers to light their conventional arrows. He could also see the men that were carrying torches in their left hand. They had orders to burn their fallen allies if necessary. Jon prayed they could trap most of the enemy swiftly and prevent close combat. It would certainly lessen the chance of fatalities. 

At first sight, the entire army of the living was comprised of Free Folk. When he flew over the east part of the ranks, he spotted the men of the Night’s Watch stationed at Eastwatch that had come out to help defend the coast line. Their black coats separated them easily from the white and grey furs the Free Folk were wearing. 

Next to them stood the delegation from the houses of the North. These men were predominantly dressed in dark grey colours. Jon knew the group consisted of several second and third sons of the noble houses, joined by trained houseguards and a contingent of smallfolk who had volunteered. Two hundred men would probably not make a big difference. But the fact that they had showed up here at all was historic and meant a great deal. Not only in forging an alliance between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Folk but they could lend credit to Jon’s claim of being the defender of the realm and herald him as a war hero. 

The last small group he spotted was the delegation from the Dreadfort. Even though these men were also under the command of Lord Umber, the Bolton contingent was not fully accepted. This was underlined by the small gap between the two groups.

Now Jon looked to his right and tried to scan the sea but it was too dark. His ships were out there somewhere a small distance from the coast but far enough to not to become a target for the ice spears or arrows from the enemy. He could picture in his mind how the vessels were lying deep into the water. Each ship was filled to capacity with the elderly, the pregnant women and the younger children. That part of the plan had been carried out flawlessly. If the worst happened, Lady Brienne had orders to set sail for Skagos. 

Jon had been present at the start of the evacuation and had even helped some of them board. Not many young women had been present. Only the ones who were visibly pregnant had agreed to evacuate. Young girls that had not flowered and young boys under twelve namedays made up most of the group selected to board the ships. Aside the pregnant women, they were a minority of elderly men and women. Jon knew most of them had tried to join the fighting. The leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome had needed to use all their authority to get their older population to agree to help the others board the ship and stay there themselves. They had been given weapons and promised a role in the defense of the ships in case of an attack.

Jon had seen several wrinkled old men with grey beards standing bravely between the younger men in the battle lines before the frozen lake. They were identically dressed and also armed to the teeth. The youngest boys allowed to stay with the army had been given smaller tasks that were vital. They all carried baskets with arrows, daggers, short swords to keep everyone provisioned. Some would also move through the ranks from one commander to another to relay messages and commands during those times when the noise and chaos prevented the men from hearing the latest orders that were being shouted. 

Women, spearwives more exactly, made up almost half of the Free Folk numbers. If you saw them standing there looking even more determined than some of the men, you wouldn’t give the opponent a chance. Jon and Orell knew better of course. They were the only ones who had seen the enemy approach. Wights as far as the eye could see, poor slaves, but with deadly intent towards the living. 

‘It will be mercy that we are showing those poor souls.’ Jon thought. ‘We will release them from their slavery.’ He felt a shiver run over his back and knew they were close before he saw them or registered their screams. A large host of wights were marching toward the lake. It wouldn’t be long now. Rhaegal and Viserion tensed at the sight. Jon tried to calm them but his own heart was beating fast. He looked at Viserion and they split up. Jon flew to the front of the lake, Viserion to the back. Both dragons simultaneously lit the spikes they had smeared with tar that flanked the woods. The wights close to that side moved to the left. 

The fires helped everyone to see clearly at what pace the enemy was approaching. They would also provide an extra barrier between the enemy and the mounted forces of Sandor Clegane that would flank them once the trap was sprung. The fires served their purpose for now. All wights whether they were undead humans or undead animals were now forced to advance in one direction, flanked by fire to their right and the sea to their left. Jon flew back over the enemy host scanning the army to locate the White Walkers. Despite the darkness they were easy to spot. They towered over most of their foot soldiers, sitting straight on a carcass that once used to be a horse. One even rode on a white bear. Jon flew back to his own forces, Viserion close behind.”

“Up front one White Walker to the left, one in the middle. None close to the water. I spotted at least two others in the middle and three at the rear. Aim for them if you can,” he yelled at Tormund who led the center. Tormund Giantsbane didn’t hesitate and dispatched a few young boys in all directions to inform the rest of their forces.”

Jon turned and studied the wights marching forward on the frozen lake. The ice didn’t crack no matter how many wights joined the vanguard. Jon held Viserion back. ‘Wait until they reach the center of the lake at least.’ He sent the thought by way of Rhaegal. He now clearly distinguished the shouts from the commanders on the ground. They were urging everyone to hold their positions. 

“Do, do not advance. Stick to the plan.” The echo of these shouts could be heard over the entire length of the front lines.

Jon ascended so he was high enough to be out of reach of enemy weapons. It seemed to him as if it took forever for the first section of wights to reach the center of the lake. Jon figured by now almost half of the night was already gone. That hopefully meant the fight would not last too long. 

He realised all too well that many of the men suffered from the cold by now and hadn’t been able to sleep much during the day. Pre-fight anxiety had made most of them restless. He comforted himself with the knowledge that at first light they would know more. Jon reckoned that either they had won by then and the enemy would be retreating or the fight would have been halted one way or another by an enemy that planned to return the next night to renew their attack on the living. Jon refused to consider there could be a third possibility. Defeat was not an option.

Finally the first wights had crossed more than half of the length of the large lake. Jon would soon take action, knowing that after the first burst of dragonfire lit up the sky, the living would start reigning arrows. He waited a bit longer still a bit disappointed that the ice pelt held the weight of the enormous number of enemy soldiers. Not a single crack appeared. It seemed the ice in the middle of the lake was a lot stronger than they had all anticipated.

As soon as he gave his permission, Rhaegal and Viserion dove down and flew over the enemy host. More than three quarters of the wights had made it onto the large lake. Reaching the end he held on to Rhaegal’s spikes when they made a sharp turn and started burning through the ice nearest the line of burning spikes that protected the entrance to the woods. 

The moment he flew low over the ice he could feel the biting cold the enemy was emanating. He no longer wondered why the ice didn’t crack under their weight. They used magic to drop the temperature. Not only did the ice carry the weight of the thousands of wights, the dragons’ first bursts of dragonfire upon the weakened borders of ice weren’t as successful as he had hoped. They had melted a few holes in the ice but not the straight line creating the wide gap they had been aiming for. Jon turned around ready to repeat the gesture. This time they had more success. A large gap appeared between the frozen lake and the woods. 

He heard the commanders shout and saw the army of the living take a few steps back and the men on the front lines ducked down. The archers loosened their arrows and almost entirely in sync the entire host moved another few steps backwards. Another salvo of arrows once more reigned on the wights. Jon saw hundreds of inert corpses littering the ice. Thousands however kept advancing without hesitation.

Again the living retreated a few steps. There was a large gap now between the south border of the lake and his allied forces. Jon knew what he had to do. As previously agreed upon, he waited for the third salvo to reach the enemy and dove to create a gap between their forces and the lake. This time he needed to make three runs to create a gap wide enough to keep his forces safe from clashing with the enemy anytime soon. Satisfied with the time he had bought them, he flew over the entire length of the lake to reach the rear of the attacking army. Viserion and Rhaegal now targeted the wights that had not stepped upon the lake yet, burning their rear guard driving the enemy forward. 

“Climb” he yelled at his dragons when he saw a White Walker throw an ice spear. His dragons made an elegant evading turn and rose higher, the spear now flying harmlessly between the two of them. Jon looked down and saw most of the enemy’s army had reached the large rectangular surface of the lake. At least that part of the plan was working.

The small cavalry stationed at Eastwatch had been joined by the few mounted men from the Free Folk settlement that had arrived on their sturdy horses. Sandor featured prominently amongst them and had been given command. They had stayed hidden behind their ranks until now. Sandor whistled and they raced as one toward the woods. They halted behind the burning pikes and formed an orderly line so they were now flanking the enemy who was separated from them by the melted ice and the flames of the burning pikes. From their new position they started to rain arrows with dragonglass tips. A few shadow cats leapt across the slowly narrowing gap and aiming for the horses. 

Jon still at the northern end of the lake dove down once more and completed the trap by melting the ice at the far end of the lake. As far as he could see in the darkness, the entire wight army was situated on the lake. They couldn’t retreat hence from where they came. The entire length of the lake was cordoned off by burning pikes and melted ice on one side and the sea on the other. In front of them the enemy had to defend themselves against a steady rain of either burning arrows or dragonglass arrowheads. Their shrieks were deafening even from up high, Jon ears were hurting from the shrill, nasty sound. He once more flew along the length of the lake once more widening the existing gap were his cavalry was holding of the enemy as best as they could. Several burning remains of dead animals were proof that their lines had been breached several times already.

A horn blew. Jon looked toward the sound and saw it was their vanguard. Somehow a small part of the southern barrier of melted water had frozen over again and the first wights were engaging the front lines of his forces. For now the shield wall held but would soon be in danger of being overrun.

Jon hurried over and even though he could do nothing about the dead that had already crossed the lake and were firmly ensconced between his own ranks, he could prevent more wights from crossing over and reaching their forces.

Rhaegal and Viserion alternated attacks. Jon almost fell off several times when Rhaegal needed to execute a swift turn to avoid an ice spear. One hit Rhaegal but the angle had been crooked and it bounced of his scales. Jon however felt a surge of anger the likes of which he had never experienced before in his life and without further thought hurled a dragonglass dagger at the culprit. The White Walker distracted by Viserion’s angry retaliating fire burst never saw it coming and when the dagger hit the creature clean in the chest, it exploded in thousands of ice crystals. Jon estimated that at least a several thousand wights dropped dead around the spot where the White Walker last sat atop his horse. He turned and quickly finished re-melting the gap that had been frozen over once more and numerous wights disappeared beneath the water.

“Aim for the White Walkers.” Jon shouted and pointed at the only White Walker close enough for their archers to reach. 

Jon did another fly over to melt the edges of the lake and keep the gap wide enough. He wondered why everything was always so much more difficult in reality then when you were drawing up your _‘simple’_ battleplan. The archers could only do so much damage. 

They had counted on his dragons to burn through the enemy once they were trapped on the ice. They had also relied on the fact that a large part of the army would drown when the ice pelt cracked under the combined weight of fifty thousand wights. His dragons flew all over the place but instead of concentrating on burning wights in the middle of the lake where the arrows of their archers couldn’t reach, Rhaegal and Viserion needed to abort their attacks regularly to keep the borders of melted water wide enough.

The White Walkers were the ones that created the cold. That much had become abundantly clear. Rhaegal and Viserion kept burning through the enemy every chance they got but at this rate they would be exhausted long before their dragonfire could make enough impact. Fifty thousand wights were too much to deal with this way. Jon changed tactics and melted a corner of the lake effectively trapping at least a thousand wights on a large patch of ice. Viserion and Rhaegal kept forcing the wights to one side of their limited space until the ice cap capsized and the wights disappeared below the freezing water.

He looked up when he heard loud cheers coming from the Free Folk. Wun Wun raised his arms in victory. He stood amidst a thousand of dead wights and a small heap of ice crystals. The giant had slain a White Walker. Jon noticed two other White Walkers move to the front lines. Probably to attempt to freeze over the southern barrier that separated them from the living. After another run to widen the southern border and the gap safeguarding his cavalry that attacked the enemy flank, he flew towards the rear to isolate another contingent and make a part of the ice pelt collapse.

When Sandor blew his horn Jon aborted his attempt to drown more wights and once more melted the ice near the burning spikes to keep the enemy from overrunning their cavalry in the woods. He flew from left to right, from front to back and slowly Jon saw the enemy numbers diminishing even if their shrieks were still loud enough to hurt his eardrums. At one point the front lines had been overrun but before Jon could react to the blowing of their horn and intervene, another White Walker had been killed and most of the wights that had infiltrated his forces dropped down and the few remaining ones were defeated in no time. 

Finally the tide turned and the wights started to retreat. The fight was almost over and it was none too soon. Jon had felt Rhaegar waver in the air several times by now. Spewing so many bursts of fire for such a long time took a lot of energy. The moment Rhaegal felt his human was looking for a landing spot, the dragon gave in to his fatigue and almost tumbled down. 

Since Jon was near the north side of the lake close to the woods he quickly landed near the end of the line of burning spikes. Sandor’s forces were some three hundred feet away. He could not see them because of the smoke from the fires but he knew they were close enough. He quickly dismounted so the Rhaegal could lie down and rest a bit. As far as he could see in the dark, all activity had stopped. No more shrieks were heard, no more arrows rained down on the lake. He gathered that the battle had well and truly ended when he heard the cheering of the living increase. 

Jon sat down for a moment and let it all sink in. He had never experienced something like that before. He still heard the echo of the otherworldly shrieks of the wights, still felt the countless eerie blue eyes staring at him. He kept picturing the sheer numbers of human and animal remains that kept attacking even as dragonfire burned through their ranks. This enemy had no fear of defeat, probably needed neither food nor rest. Jon was about to praise their luck that they somehow feared daylight and they were probably running off to hide somewhere safe before dawn when a shiver ran over his back. Something was wrong. He looked toward his forces. They all stood there facing the lake. The cheering had stopped. A horn blew three times in quick succession.

Jon turned his head and looked right into the eyes of a White Walker that stood in the middle of the frozen lake. His white icy skin and blue light in his eyes somehow made him visible despite the darkness. The creature didn’t move and stared at Jon with something akin to a smirk on his icy face. Jon got back to his feet and watched mesmerised as the White Walker raised his arms. All the wights that had fallen down like lifeless dolls when they had slayed the White Walkers stood back up and opened their eyes once more. Hundreds or mayhap thousands of undead heads turned towards Jon. More wights rose from below the water and crept back up from under the ice. Apparently drowning was not a final death for these strange creatures. A large part of this newly formed force marched towards Jon as one. 

“Fuck!” Jon turned to Rhaegal intent on mounting him and taking to the sky once more. He paled. Several wights that hadn’t been defeated before had used the distraction caused by the resurrection of their allies on the lake to crawl closer to the green dragon without anyone noticing. Rhaegal screeched in agony, let out a large flame and flapped his wings to get rid of the ones trying to climb him. Viserion still in the air dove toward them and did his best to hinder the large force that was advancing on Jon. 

The temperature dropped and the gap between him and the lake froze solid. Realising that there was no opportunity to mount Rhaegal and that his only option was to stand his ground there and then, Jon took Blackfyre in his right hand and a dragonglass dagger in his left. He hardly had time to count to ten before the first wights were upon him. Luckily for Jon it were mindless animal wights and the Valyrian steel of Blackfyre sliced through them. Those he missed ran straight by and jumped Rhaegal instead. 

The wave of undead human wights that was almost upon him had not learned to fight in formation. Jon’s sword sliced through them while he stepped backwards in an effort to join forces with Rhaegal. The dragon was still fighting of these nasty little wights. Jon felt Rhaegal’s annoyance. He could only compare it to a human trying to get rid of red ants after stepping into one of their nests. They were a pest but couldn’t really harm you. They kept Rhaegal busy though and he was no real help to Jon except for the fact that he provided an obstacle so they could not get to Jon from all sides. 

Despite Viserion’s efforts, the wights not minding the danger they were in, kept running around their burning comrades Viserion continued to put on fire. They seemed not to mind that many didn’t make it. Those that did make it attacked Jon with deadly intent. 

Jon still standing his ground was getting encumbered by the carcasses that were piling up all around him. Avoiding a large swing of a rusty looking sword, he stepped sideways and his left foot stepped on some bones and slipped between them. Trying to avoid losing his balance, he shifted his foot a few times to reach the ground beneath the bones. That proved to be a dumb thing to do. Even though he managed to stay upright as he had intended, his left foot was stuck now and he could no longer move from the spot where he was standing. Now he was the one who was trapped.

He felt something sting his left arm but ignored it and kept swinging both his sword and his dagger. He looked around assessing how many wights he still had to face when he saw the White Walker advance toward him. Still trying to free his foot, he slew five more wights before the ice creature was upon him. Jon dropped his dragonglass dagger and took his sword in both hands. Ignoring the cold the creature emitted he tried to concentrate and make his mind go blank. Time slowed down. 

This was it. If he did not defeat the enemy before him, the dead would win. Never mind what happened with the rest of the battle. He realised that the Night King waiting in the far north knew this as well. If Jon died out here today, the enemy would win the final battle no matter how long it took to get to that point. Jon was necessary to defeat the ultimate White Walker he had seen in his vision. He was the key to the survival of the entire realm. If he died out here today… A vision of Dany walking alongside the cliffs of Dragonstone flitted through his mind. He gritted his teeth. He would defend her. He would fight off every last undead abomination until he no longer drew breath.

Jon concentrated and blocked the first few trust of the White Walker’s icy sword but was helpless when the creature punched him in the stomach and sliced his thigh. Without his footwork his options were limited. He couldn’t dodge, only counter. Jon barely countered the next swing in time. His left arm hurt from the force of the attack. He saw the follow-up stroke coming towards him in slow motion. He realised his parry would come too late. The icy tip came nearer and was perfectly aimed to pierce his heart. Jon was out of options. This was it. Humanity would lose the war. He made a last effort to speed up his counterstroke and refused to close his eyes. 

A big shadow next to him and a loud crack were all that he noticed at first. He tried to make sense of the fact that he was still breathing. He made a conscious effort to calm down the loud erratic beating of his heart making sure to take deep breaths. His vision cleared and he could distinguish the White Walker in his line of vision. The ice creature lay a few feet away but was already rising back to his feet his eerie eyes fixed solely on Jon. Jon broke their gaze and looked up to his right.

“My left foot. I’m stuck.” Jon informed Mag the Mighty of his predicament. The giant pulled Jon up, making the bones shift easily and put him down again on the other side of the heap of carcasses. Compared to the giant Jon looked like a toddler.

“Dragonrider free. Fight on!” And the giant pulled out a large tree from behind him and swept at the enemy that kept coming at them. Jon looked at Rhaegal. The dragon had finally gotten rid of most of the wights. “Fly up, Rhaegal. Defend me from the sky.” Rhaegal was quick to obey. Soon he joined his fire to Viserion’s. Both dragons were now working together to keep more wights from reaching Jon. 

Still separated from the rest of their forces, Jon looked around assessing his predicament. A large host of wights stood between Sandor’s cavalry and Jon. Together with Mag the Mighty he tried to stay alive until help could reach them or the last wight had been destroyed. From where he was standing he couldn’t check what was happening on the other side of the lake. He reckoned the gap at the south side of the lake that had protected his forces would long have frozen back over by now. But neither Rhaegal nor Viserion was keen to leave his side and help the men over there. They both stayed to defend their human from the enemy that clearly targeted their human.

Mag the Mighty was doing his utmost to hold of the wights but the giant was slowly being manoeuvred away from Jon. This was no mindless fight. The White Walkers had a clear strategy. Jon kept swinging his sword hardly aiming at anything consciously. Technique didn’t matter against these wights. He had taken his dagger back out and swung both arms from left to right and up and down creating fluid figures moving his feet the entire time, turning, ducking, stretching. 

It felt as if he was performing some sort of strange dance. But for now it worked and he succeeded in keeping the enemy from slicing him to pieces. He tried not to think too far ahead. For each wight he killed another took his place and many were standing by waiting for their turn. Soon he would once again be in danger of losing his manoeuvrability because of the heap of carcasses that was growing around him. He stepped backward trying to find a natural barrier to protect his back. He had not the faintest idea how long he had been at it but felt his lungs burning and his arms growing heavy.

The White Walker that had been thrown off his feet by the giant earlier was content to stand by and watch the proceedings. Rhaegal targeted him with dragonfire but somehow a cold shield around the White Walker saw to it that the fire didn’t reach him. Jon changed tactics and tried to fight his way toward him but was blocked at every turn. He felt his sword arm burn from fatigue but kept on slicing. He had no choice. It was as if the White Walker sensed his weakening. The ice creature finally stepped forward, intent on facing Jon once more. 

“Mag, shield my back.” Jon called out realising that the wights that had stepped aside to let the White Walker through were now trying to attack him from behind.

“I try.” The giant answered but was being swarmed from all sides. 

The screeching of the enemy seemed to intensify for some reason. Jon’s ears were hurting. The noise prevented him from hearing much of what was happening elsewhere on the battlefield. That was the reason why Jon saw Jaime Lannister before he heard him. The man came charging through the woods on horseback. Together with a small group, he had circled around and came from the north side heading straight for Jon, slicing wights left and right. Immediately hundreds of wights changed direction to prevent them from reaching Jon. Sandor’s forces were still pinned down by the enemy but somehow Jaime Lannister perhaps because he had the element of surprise on his side or perhaps because the man was driven by an extra motivation: saving the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had succeeded to come closer than anyone else.

Rhaegal sensing Jon’s thoughts burned through the group of wights heading for Jaime Lannister. Before the man was able to reach Jon his horse was struck by an ice spear. He jumped of his horse moments before the beast fell down. Landing on his feet, he pulled out a torch and lit it using the remnants of one of the fires lit by the dragons. His sword in one hand and the torch in the other a determined Jaime Lannister fought his way through countless wights and managed to reach Jon. 

Jon nodded at him and they positioned themselves back to back.

“You have no Valyrian steel sword, I gather?” Jon asked between heavy breaths.

“Only a precious Valyria dagger in my belt.” Jaime replied.

“Then leave the White Walker to me.” Jon ordered.

Jaime at first seemed to obey him and Jon turned and parried the first swing from the advancing White Walker.

“Giant! To us!” Jaime roared at Mag the Mighty.

“I try.” The giant yelled back.

The rest of the Jaime’s cavalry were still trying to fight their way to their leader. More wights however appeared seemingly out of nowhere to block their path. Jaime Lannister was calculating his options quickly.

“Hold on, my Prince.” Jaime encouraged him. 

“I try.” Jon mimicked the speech of the giant. “My arms are tiring though.”

“Then we better end this quickly.” Jaime lit a few more wights on fire. “Gods there are many.”

Jon didn’t reply. He saw a second White Walker closing in on them. “Lannister, look to my right!”

“See him.” Came the curt reply.

“Lose your steel sword. It will shatter when it comes into contact with his icy weapon.” Jon warned him.

“Torch?” Jaime enquired.

“They extinguish it with the cold they are emitting.” Jon yelled back almost deaf himself from the never ending screeches of the wights.

“Damn.” Jaime threw his torch into an approaching wight and reached for a dragonglass dagger seeing the second White Walker would come in range soon.

“Aim for his chest.” Jon advised him before engaging his own opponent with an offensive swing having found some extra energy now he saw his chances at survival rise again with the presence of Jaime Lannister.

Jaime changed his mind at the last moment. His hand didn’t go for the handle of the dragonglass dagger. That weapon was too short. He would be run through before he could make his first strike and if he threw it and missed the correct spot, he would be left without a means of defending himself. Instead he dug in his pocket and grabbed a number of dragonglass arrowheads and threw them at the White Walker with all his might.

It was a desperate move but a genius one at the same time. Several arrowheads missed their target. A few touched the White Walker backwards with their blunt side, but two hit their target with the pointy end. One penetrated the creature’s eye. The other reached the intended target. It hit the White Walker in the middle of his chest and the creature exploded before the eyes of a bewildered Jaime Lannister.

“Fuck,” was all the reaction he was able to get out. He saw hundreds of wights drop dead before them. Gathering his wits he approached Jon and almost pushed him to the side trying to take on the remaining White Walker himself. The ice creature however was firmly fixed on his target. No matter what Jaime tried. It turned and went after Jon. 

Jon was losing ground. No longer able to match the force of the strikes he used the dodging tactic he had learned and each time took step sideward so he could parry the strike only after it lost most of its momentum. 

Jaime used the last piece of dragonglass he carried on him and hurled the dragonglass dagger at the White Walker. It missed the optimal target but still embedded itself in the swordarm of the creature.

The White Walker must have felt the impact because it turned its head to look at the object that had managed to pierce him. That distraction caused enough of a delay for Jon to switch from defense to offense. He aimed Blackfyre at the creature’s chest and when the White Walker blocked the strike with less force than before, Jon could slowly force their linked weapons upwards. He used his left hand to plunge his own dragonglass dagger in the Walker’s chest. Exhausted, Jon sank to his knees after the White Walker exploded and all the wights surrounding them dropped lifeless on the ground. Jaime was with him in two steps and helped him back on his feet.

“We need to get out of here.” He looked around frantically and gestured to the group of his men that had had managed to come within forty feet but stood staring unbelievingly at the lifeless heap of wights and dead animals. “Bring me a horse! Quick!”

He helped Jon mount the animal and took a seat behind him. As soon as they left the spot, Viserion and Rhaegal started burning the wights that had dropped down after the defeat of the White Walkers. Jon could feel their exhaustion.

“The dragons can’t keep this up. We need to destroy the last of the White Walkers. We are going the wrong way.”

Jaime didn’t respond. He stopped his horse only when they were safe behind their own lines at the south side of the lake

“You are exhausted, my Prince. I’ll go after them if you will hand me Blackfyre.” He dismounted and helped Jon get of the horse.

“We will all go if it is still necessary.” Edd Tollet had reached them. “However I no longer think it is. Look! The enemy is retreating.”

Nobody dared to cheer this time. Everyone just stared at the lake. The wights that were still standing had stopped fighting and were indeed retreating. 

“We need to burn every single wight inert on the ice. We can’t risk another resurrection.” Jon spoke while breathing heavily. “Can someone hand me something to drink?” 

The men looked around. “Eat some snow for now.” Edd Tollet advised him. “I’ll see if I can find someone with a flask.” Jon found a fresh patch of snow and cleaned his hands before he stuffed some snow into his mouth. He instantly felt refreshed. Next he washed his face with the fast melting snow.

“I will take the men out on the lake and help the dragons set fire to the carcasses that are still out there.” Edd Tollet volunteered. 

“A horse pulled up and Sandor dismounted. He had a gash on the unburnt part of his forehead and had to keep that eye closed. “Take my horse.” He held the reins out to Edd Tollet. “Go burn the stupid cunts before they come back a third time.” Sandor took Jon’s arm to help keep him upright.

Edd Tollet didn’t waste a moment, mounted the big horse and rounded up some men. “We will concentrate on the side closest to the sea. Jon, can you ask the dragons to take care of the ones on the other side? I’d be pissed if they burned me.”

“Consider it done.” Jon answered trying to tie a piece of cloth over the wound on his thigh. He had hardly felt it was there before but now could see and feel it bleeding profusely. 

Sandor helped him to sit down and knelt beside him. “Let me see to your arm.” He turned to Lannister. “You take over bandaging his thigh. So he can fucking keep his arm still.”

“Thanks.” Jon said when he reopened his eyes after communicating with Rhaegal and noticed that both men had finished securing a cloth on his arm and thigh. “I’ll let a healer look at those cuts as soon as he has helped the more severely wounded. Sandor, let us see to your cut now.”

“Dragonrider!” Orell came running over. “There is a White Walker on one of the rafts. Some of the dead are using the five large rafts to try and reach the ships. Send the dragons over to them.”

“Rhaegal to me!” Jon yelled out loud but repeated the order in his head. He asked for Viserion too.

“Stand back. Give me space. The green dragon will land here any moment. Stand back!” Jon yelled once more. 

Jaime shook his head when he saw Jon scramble awkwardly on top of his dragon. “Stubborn Targaryen,” he mumbled and jumped on the first horse he could confiscate, racing in the direction of the coastline.

 

 

**Interlude 32: Brienne beyond the Wall**

She had been so glad when she received the summons from the Targaryen Prince. When she set out toward Eastwatch together with Lord Dayne and Lord Tyrell, twenty volunteers from Winterfell had accompanied them. More men had joined their small caravan when they passed through Wintertown and ever since small groups from other northern settlements had asked to travel alongside to the Wall. As ordered by the Prince, they had stopped at the Dreadfort and had picked up the men that had been incarcerated there. These men were eager to be provided a chance to prove themselves beyond the Wall. If they aided the Targaryen Prince in his fight against the enemy beyond the Wall they would regain their honour and be allowed to resume their previous position.

By the time they all had reached Eastwatch, she rode at the head of a host of approximately two hundred men strong. A large contingent from the Last Hearth had been their last addition. Lord Osric Umber, the third son of the Greatjon Umber had assumed leadership but regarded her as his second in command. Although she presumed he had been given such instructions by the Targaryen Prince, she was flattered anyway by the number of responsibilities he entrusted her with. Even Tyrell and Dayne deferred to her when she decided when to stop or where to set up camp.

Never before had she felt so well-respected when dealing with trained men, some of them seasoned veterans who had lived through more than one battle. At Winterfell she had already been pleased with the way she had been accepted despite several critical glances from visiting Lords and some of the houseguards. But travelling among these men had been a revelation. 

She wondered what her father would think if he could see her now. She had been vague in her descriptions of her stay at Winterfell. They all thought she was just visiting the North in the company of Lord Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell. They had even hinted that a possible betrothal between her and one of these young Lords would be most graciously welcomed. She had kept silent on purpose wanting them to hear of her new position as a Kingsguard either when she received her white cloak or when she could write them of the exact date she would be knighted. 

She had trusted the Targaryen Prince implicitly and was grateful for the honour he had bestowed on her by promising her this exclusive position. But as soon as she had entered the large gates of Eastwatch at the head of a host of two hundred and fifty men strong, she had been met by one disappointment after the other. Her proud smile had dimmed when she realised the Prince was not there and the only ones from his entourage left at Eastwatch were Gendry, the skilled blacksmith and close friend of the Prince and the Prince’s white direwolf. Prince Aegon had flown off again, this time to fight without them at Pyke and after a short but successful battle, rumours said he was now at Dragonstone for some supposedly urgent meetings.

Next she had been introduced to two men of the Night’s Watch who claimed they were personal guards of the Prince whenever he was present beyond the Wall. Lady Brienne had tried to reign in the acute feeling of jealousy. Not revealing her own ambitions she had subtly enquired after the extent of their relationship with the Prince and now she only felt pity for the two Targaryen loyalists who had been exiled to Wall for nothing more than being loyal to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. 

Back then she had been able to comfort herself with the message that Sandor Clegane had sent that the Prince would return any day now and that they were bound for the place where the real fight would go down, a fight against a formidable enemy. They had left the next day and Lady Brienne had looked forward to her first real battle as Kingsguard to Aegon Targaryen.

It had all come to naught. She had been severely let down. Here she stood at the railing of a ship anchored near the east coast of this frozen land of mountains and lakes. She pulled her furs tighter around her when the wind blew hard from the north. Despite the many layers of clothing that she wore, she was chilled to the bones. For the first time doubt entered her mind. 

She had plenty of time stuck on this accursed ship to ponder whether she had made the right choice, whether she had not made a mistake to trust the young Prince blindly. She had been so certain that Prince Aegon genuinely esteemed her and truly didn’t mind the fact that she was a woman. She had believed him when he had promised her the certainty of a knighthood and a position in the renowned Kingsguard. She would be the first woman in Westeros ever to be granted such an honour and he would be the one to grant her this.

That is the reason why it was such a shock when he ordered her to lead the evacuations at Hardhome. She had been slightly appeased when he had explained to her that she was given the responsibility of tens of thousands of souls. The forces he left behind, including Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell would be under her command. She would lead the defences here in the event that part of the enemy managed to escape the traps they had laid out and came for them. 

When she had protested that she had been present at the war council and that everyone considered them safe at sea, the Prince had walked her to a more private spot. Keeping his voice low he had explained to her that unlike the others he was sure that the enemy was not to be underestimated. He was of the opinion that they had the uncanny ability to find living souls and come for them no matter how many wights perished in the attempt. He advised her to remain alert at all times and make sure that everything was ready in case the dead found a way to reach them. 

He had pointed out that the enemy could command dead animals as well. Perhaps they would send her an enormous flock of dead eagles, ravens or any other kind of bird. They might even try to reach the ships on primitive rafts. Somehow he was convinced that the goal of the enemy was to recruit the Free Folk living at Hardhome. A scroll with recommendations from her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold had tipped the scale.

She had let herself be persuaded and diligently led the evacuation. She had been mollified to notice that the Free Folk had no qualms with her being a woman. She had only needed to appease the ones that were disappointed that they had not been allowed to fight. She had understood all too well what they were feeling and had offered the most vocal ones a crucial task in the safeguarding of the ships. The evacuation had not gone flawlessly but after half a day of arguing and motivational speeches, the ships had all left the shore and had thrown anchor while still within viewing distance of the coast. At least they could spot the shoreline during daylight when the weather was clear enough.

But now it was long after dark. Most of the night had come and gone and nothing had happened. She was still standing here at the railing of the ship with no more responsibility than to appoint lookouts and see to it that no fights broke out amongst the crew and Free Folk. Everyone was tired and uncomfortable. It had been a tight squeeze to accommodate so many of the Free Folk on just fifty ships. Most of the people on board scarcely had room to sit down. 

She shook her head trying to shake the doubts that kept creeping up on her. Would the Prince really see her as an equal to his other Kingsguards? She kept reminding herself that safeguarding fifty ships filled to the brim with passengers and their crew was a big responsibility. She would not let him down.

She took the looking glass out of her belt and scanned the ships that were in her line of sight. As long as they all flew a white banner, everything was okay. The prearranged signal for danger was a red flag next to a lantern so they could spot it after dark. She tried not to bump into too many passengers when she wove her way through the small groups of people sitting on the moist wooden floor of the upper deck in order to check the visible banners in person. All white. She sighed not really knowing what she preferred. On the one hand, if the enemy showed itself that meant that the Targaryen Prince had not side-lined her but had given her a worthy task. On the other hand, if the enemy didn’t show, more than fifteen thousand people would not be put in harm’s way. Dawn would soon be upon them. The sky was no longer as dark as before. Soon it would be turning red and then the sun would be up not long after.

Edric Dayne came running up to her jumping over legs and circumventing curled up bodies of sleeping Free Folk. “Lady Brienne! Lady Brienne, the ship to our right just raised the red banner!”

Brienne cursed her moment of inattention. She didn’t need her spyglass to see the red banner. The lantern and the red flag were clearly visible with the naked eye.

“There!” Edric Dayne pointed at the shoreline. “Rafts are coming our way.”

Brienne used her spy glass now to study the indicated spot. She counted five large rafts, each carrying uh something. She had to look again to believe what she saw. There were approximately twenty moving corpses sitting on each of these rafts holding on for dear life or perhaps life was not the correct term. The Prince had not exaggerated. They were at least half-decayed but still moving and carrying weapons. And their eyes! She held her breath for a moment but then regrouped and studied the other rafts. 

There it was. Just as it had been described during the war council. Wights were almost always in the company of an ice creature. It stood upright on the raft that still was the farthest distance from her ship. She released the breath she had been holding and studied the White Walker thoroughly, making a mental list of all the weapons it carried.

She handed her spyglass to Edric Dayne. “Here have a look. I will raise the alarms so the archers can take their positions. The Targaryen Prince had told her that every member of the Free Folk could shoot a mean arrow. According to him, children were taught this skill as soon as they could walk on their own. He had provided each ship with enough bows and arrows with special magic glass arrowheads. Her task had been to select the best archers available on each boat and give each of them a fixed position. If ever the enemy showed itself, they would all know where to stand and every corner of each of the ship would have its defenses ready in no time. She had done all he had ordered. She knew the scroll carrying the instructions of her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold by hard. 

She had not wasted the afternoon on the ship. The crew and the more capable members of the Free Folk on the ships had been armed with dragonglass axes, daggers and longspears. Everyone had been given instructions and knew their positions. The only thing that had kept Lady Brienne from being bored were the short training sessions for small groups she led until everyone selected had shown her what he or she was capable of. She had been frustrated that she had not had the time to visit the other ships to check whether her orders had been carried out with the same vigil and to witness the skills of the defenders that had been picked out there. 

She heard the scraping of iron chains that told her the anchor was being lifted. Hopefully the other ships were following the instructions to the letter and were doing the same thing. She checked her belt one more time counting the weapons she was carrying. Brienne, Edric and Loras had been allowed to take their pick from the crates Gendry had shown them at Eastwatch. 

She hurried along the length of the ship and spotted Loras easily. He had been keeping the children company earlier and was still in their vicinity. She ordered him to help mobilise their defenses and soon enough the entire ship stood at the ready and was waiting for her orders.

“The rafts are looking precarious and the enemy does not seem comfortable upon them.” Loras remarked. “Perhaps we should just ram them.”

“It is a pathetic looking attempt of an attack,” Edric concurred, “barely one hundred wights and only one White Walker.” 

“Remember what the Prince told us.” Brienne cautioned him. “Don’t underestimate them. They may look frail but they show no mercy. They have no sense of self-preservation. They are mindless puppets of the White Walker and most probably don’t realise they have been sent on a suicide mission. Aim for the White Walker. Use only dragonglass or fire and aim for his chest. Chances are that if a clean shot can take out the White Walker the fight is over. I have been told that without the White Walker, these so-called wights become powerless.”

“The ice creature has two ice spears, a long sword and a few daggers on him.” Edric had studied the enemy thoroughly using Brienne’s spyglass.

“As soon as the White Walker is within range, give the archers leave to shoot. Let them all fire simultaneously and aim for the White Walker.” Edric and Loras nodded and each of them walked to a different part of the ship.

“Dragons!” Someone shouted and several others repeated the word.

Brienne looked up and saw the dragons approaching. Even if they were still far away, she understood they were flying at an enormous speed. She turned her head again to check the position of the enemy. The rafts were still approaching at a slow pace but the enemy had moved.

“The White Walker and all the wights had turned and were staring at the incoming dragons. The White Walker spread his legs to improve his balance and lifted an ice spear, ready to throw it at the first dragon to come into range. 

Brienne held her breath. They needed to distract the White Walker or a spear might hurt one of the Prince’s dragons. The silverwhite dragon had no rider and was on course to reach the rafts first. The green dragon appeared to have trouble keeping up. 

“Nock!” Brienne shouted on the top of her voice.

She heard her shout being repeated by Loras and Edric respectively at the bow and stern. She witnessed the white dragon dive down towards the rafts.

“Loose!” she yelled and watched with satisfaction as several arrows hit the White Walker’s throwing arm. They couldn’t aim for his chest since he was standing sideways to have a better view of the incoming dragon. Her action had some result though. The White Walker lost his balance slightly and the ice spear that he had been throwing changed direction and missed its target by a wide margin. The weapon fell into the water and drifted harmlessly upon the waves. Viserion swept over the rafts and lit three of them on fire. 

“Nock”, she yelled again seeing that the White Walker had picked up a second ice spear. 

In the meantime Jon was rather helpless on Rhaegal. The dragon had trouble flying stable enough for his human to stay steady on his back.   
_‘Fly over the ships, Viserion. Make the White Walker turn around and face the archers on the ship.’_ He sent the thought to Rhaegal hoping his brother would pick it up. He needed all his concentrations not to fall off and couldn’t merge his mind with the dragons as he usually did when flying in the air. Viserion either came up with the idea himself or had heard them and instantly complied. 

Lady Brienne admired the way the white dragon flew low over the fleet followed by the green dragon. Both dragons circled around but only the white dragon advanced towards the enemy. Brienne immediately grasped the opportunity when as expected the White Walker turned and faced them now, his torso a clear target for the first time.

“Loose!” She shouted. And lo and behold, the White Walker eerie eyes no longer looked up at the dragons but instead stared at the ships and the incoming arrows. Lady Brienne shivered but her eyes grew wide when she saw the ice creature lift his arms sideways and let the arrows impact without making any attempt to save himself. Her mouth fell open when he exploded in thousands of tiny ice crystals. The cheers of the men on board made her lift her gaze from the strange heap. Widening her sight she noticed that the wights on the two remaining rafts had all dropped down and lay lifeless on the wooden beams. 

The white dragon made one more dive and soon only a few black pieces of burnt wood were drifting towards their position. She found it all rather anticlimactic. Now that they were no longer in any danger she relaxed and looked for the Prince on the back of the green dragon. She bit her lip when she saw the green dragon having trouble to hover over her ship. From this close by she could see it had a small hole in one of his wings. 

“Without counter order, you can bring everyone back ashore soon. But wait till after noon.” The Targaryen Prince yelled at her. 

She nodded and shouted her response. “Noon, Hardhome.” 

She waved after him and her eyes kept following the two dragons that flew very slowly back towards the shore.

 

***

 

Before he left Hardhome, Jon gave Lady Brienne detailed instructions for their travels south. Edric and Loras would accompany her. Gendry planned to travel to Winterfell in the company of the small group from Winterfell and Wintertown. He would visit there for some time and then continue south to Dragonstone or King’s Landing if all went according to plan. 

At first Jon had wanted to send Ghost with Lady Brienne who was set to sail from Eastwatch to Dragonstone. But after communicating with his direwolf, it became clear that Ghost would rather travel overland, not even accompanying Gendry for the first part of the journey. Ghost preferred to travel at his own speed. Jon was worried for his direwolf’s safety but had relented acknowledging the fact that the direwolf had a right to make his own decisions. He was not a pet but a companion and friend. He just hoped that Ghost would not get lost on his way south.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we witness the aftermath of the battle.  
> In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Robb and Benjen at Winterfell.


	33. When the smoke clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: war, violence, character deaths .  
> Ravenousreadr once more did her best to clean up my errors and I am very grateful to her.

*

Jon stumbled off his dragon when he returned to the encampment. By all appearances he had not been gone that long. From high up he had spotted small groups of men still checking the lake and surrounding areas. They all had torches in hand and were setting fire to every single carcass they could find. He petted Rhaegal and felt the dragon’s exhaustion flow through him. The dragon was lying with his head down in the exact same spot where he had touched down. Never before had Jon seen his dragons settle down in a pool of mud. They always looked for a dry spot preferably one that provided some shelter from the weather, especially so when they were this far north. Jon had never experienced Rhaegal to be this lethargic. 

Viserion had landed a bit further away and was nuzzling a dead horse, probably making sure it was a fresh kill. Jon presumed the dragon was satisfied with his findings since he roasted it and started to feast on the flesh before the flames had completely died down. Rhaegal didn’t even lift his head to check out where the enticing smell came from. Growing even more worried, Jon limped toward the spot where the charred meat was lying and tried to drag a half devoured part of the horse’s hindquarters closer to Rhaegal. Viserion sensing Jon’s worry for his brother nudged the dragonrider aside and shoved the roasted horse in its entirety in the direction of his brother’s head. Then he sauntered off and soon found another casualty of war in the form of a beautiful black stallion. 

Satisfied that Rhaegal had been taken care of and Viserion had found another prey, Jon limped in the direction of the tents. Ghost came running up, his white fur covered in mud and filth. No red blood though. The enemy had none. Jon’s mind was too tired to dwell much on what exactly was the stinking substance that had gotten stuck in his wolf’s pelt. He fell to his knees and scratched Ghost behind his ears happy to see him unharmed. 

Sandor was the first to reach Jon and helped him get to his feet again. “Your leg is bleeding like warm piss. That stupid bandage is soaked through. Let’s get you to a fucking healer, boy.” 

Jon was grateful to accept the bigger man’s help. Now that Sandor had brought it to his attention, the wound had started to bother him for real. He shivered when he remembered the exact moment the White Walker’s ice sword had cut his thigh and how he had been expecting to die when the next blow from that weapon had been about to pierce his heart.

Grateful for Sandor’s silent nature he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked in the direction of the provisional shelter where they were treating the more severely wounded. He kept most of his weight of his right leg while he hobbled. Nevertheless, the red stain on his breeches and makeshift bandage was growing larger. He reckoned the wound had started to bleed more profusely when he jumped off Rhaegal’s back. His dragon hadn’t lowered his wing to assist Jon, so he had just slid down the dragon’s flank and had touched the ground rather forcibly. It certainly would do no harm to have a healer look at his thigh. 

“Is Ygritte all right?” Jon asked Sandor when he had gathered his wits again.

“She is. She boasts she killed more wights than I did. My woman might have the right of it. She always shot two arrows simultaneously. You should have seen the speed with which she had a new set of arrows nocked each time.” Sandor beamed proudly. 

“I’m glad she is all right, Sandor. How come you are here with me instead of, you know?” Jon did his best to focus on the conversation and not on the pain in his leg.

“She volunteered to burn carcasses and ordered me to hurry to your side when she saw the dragons come back. A real mind reader, my red minx. She gathered I would not be at ease until I knew you were okay.”

“Thanks, Sandor. It is nice to know I can count on you.” Jon increased the pressure on Sandor’s arm slightly to lend extra weight to his words. 

“Not only on me. Every Free Folk I encountered wanted to be reassured that you were okay. You should hear the tales they are telling. They grow bigger all the time. According to the last one I overheard, the Dragonrider practically slayed half the enemy’s army on his own with his magical sword while on the ground even though he had to climb mountains of dead carcasses. The other half was set afire by your dragons for which they also give you credit. Don’t know what the fuck we were all doing on the battle field by that account.” Sandor chuckled.

“Like you said, it is only a tale that grows wilder with the retelling. Just wait until they see me limp. They’ll understand that I bleed the same as them all and am just a frail human of flesh and blood.”

Sandor grunted to convey his disbelief. Stepping aside to avoid a small pool of mud, he stumbled into Ghost and almost lost his balance.

“Your wolf stinks like shit, boy.” Sandor covered his misstep with this rude declaration. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they could smell him as far as Winterfell. Isn’t it enough that the entire environment smells of stinking rotting carcasses and charred meat? Better order him away soon. Your wolf sure as hell won’t be welcome in the healer’s quarters. Free Folk healers are fucking keen on keeping their work area clean.”

Jon stopped and studied Ghost. The white direwolf whined quietly. He came closer and rubbed his head against Jon’s unharmed leg.

“Ghost, go bathe please. I’m safe and you can come back as soon as we are both cleaned up somewhat.” Jon looked at Ghost’s sad red eyes and petted the top of his head not minding the dirt. “Sandor’s right. You smell something awful. You know I normally like your scent but surely your own nose must tell you that you reek now?”

Ghost nuzzled Jon’s hand and moaned quietly once more.

“Sandor will keep me safe. Besides, the sooner you bathe, the sooner I can give you a big hug.” Jon encouraged his direwolf. 

Ghost took one last look at Jon being supported by Clegane’s strong shoulder and ran off in the direction of the beach. He ignored the melted parts of the lake where the smell of battle and smoke was still rather strong opting to rinse himself in salty sea water.

 

***

 

Sandor released Jon the moment they were safely inside the tent. 

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he grumbled.

Jon just nodded and lowered the flap to keep the cold from entering the tent where several cots were filled with wounded men. The first one he saw moving about when he searched the large space for a sign of the healer was the familiar broad silhouette of Gendry. His friend had his back to him. Jon spotted the bandage on Gendry’s left arm when his friend bent over to help one of the wounded sit upright and drink some water.

“Here you are.” Gendry exclaimed visibly relieved when he spotted Jon. He immediately interrupted what he was doing and approached. “We match.” He touched the bandage on Jon’s left arm.”

“Only if you have a cut on your thigh too.” Jon embraced Gendry by hugging his right side. “I am glad you are okay.”

“I had Ghost by my side. Besides, the fuckers didn’t really mean to fight us. That much became clear. They had a strategy of their own. We only had a real fight on our hands when we attempted to reach you. And we did try, even though we did not succeed. You must believe me. As soon as word reached us you were trapped, the entire front line moved forward and engaged the enemy on the lake.”

He looked over Jon’s shoulder toward the entrance and frowned. “Where is Ghost? The way he dashed off, I was sure he had picked up your scent.”

“I ordered him to clean himself up some.” Jon released Gendry. 

“One day you must teach me the right words to do that. I did try that myself several times.” Gendry’s eyes twinkled.

“He did stink.” Jon stated the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards as he looked around for a sign of a healer.

“He did at that.” Gendry grinned but moved aside when the healer of the Free Folk approached them. 

“Can I help you, Dragonrider?” He gave Jon a once over. “I will need to clean those wounds. You should have come earlier.” He admonished the young man.

The healer made quick work of washing out the wound on his arm and dressed it again with clean bandages. He shook his head when he tried to remove the bloody piece of cloth that had gotten stuck in the crusted over part of the large wound on Jon’s right thigh. He used a moist cloth to try to separate the bandage from the cut without causing more damage. 

“This wound will need stitches.” He informed Jon when he had a clear view of the rather long cut. “Not the entire length, just the upper part where the wound is deepest. We do not have milk of the poppy. Better bite on something.” He warned Jon.

Gendry offered him his belt with an apologetic smile. Jon took it stoically. 

“It could have been worse.” Was all the comment he offered before he bit down on the piece of leather.”

Fifteen stitches later and a large bandage adorning his thigh, Jon was ready to leave. 

“Don’t walk too far. I recommend you use a stick and lessen the weight you put on that leg. As long as you don’t tear the stitches in the first few days, you should be okay.” The healer’s eyes were still adjusting the bandage on Jon’s thigh making sure it would keep in place.

“Thanks. Zalter is it?” Jon asked after the man’s name, vaguely remembering seeing him at the Fist of the First Men.

“Zalter is my brother. My name is Zetus.” The healer looked up at Jon surprised at hearing his brother’s name being mentioned by the Dragonrider.

“Thank you, Zetus. We are grateful that you look after our wounded.”

“The Free Folk are indebted to all those that fought to save our lives today. But we all know to whom we owe our biggest debt. You provided us with ships, magic glass and brought strong warriors here. If ever the Dragonrider needs help from the Free Folk, we will all come running.” The man nodded convincingly.

Jon put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “That goes both ways, Zetus. We are allies from now on. I hope you will not forget that the Night’s Watch also helped the Free Folk today. The days of fighting each other are at an end. We all know the true enemy now. Tell all who seek to harass the Crows that the Dragonrider told them not to. This is the beginning of a new era. The living must band together.”

“Only if you tell the Crows the same.” Zetus countered.

“I already have, but I will make sure to repeat it to them constantly. I trust the Free Folk more than them. But don’t tell them I said that.” Jon winked and turned his head in Gendry’s direction.

“Since I don’t have a stick, perhaps I can lean on you for my walk to the war tent?” 

Gendry exchanged a glance with Zetus. “I’ll send a few others to help out here,” he promised the healer and took Jon’s right arm to drape it over his shoulder. 

“Let us get going, Dragonrider.” He smiled when Jon made a face at being addressed in this way by his friend. 

Sandor immediately sprang to attention when Jon and Gendry exited the tent. Jon felt like a sissy with both his arms on the shoulders of bigger men. He was half dragged to the war tent. Ghost met up with them just as they were about to enter the tent. He looked mostly clean and wormed himself inside. Jon let him for now. He did still smell but it was the normal smell of a wet animal. As long as the men offered no objections, Jon would enjoy the soothing company of his direwolf.

He lowered himself on some furs and made an inventory of all the men present. Lord Umber was slumbering in a corner as was one leader of the Free Folk. There was no sign of Edd Tollet nor of Stane. Tormund’s large frame was also missing. Jon remembered the men still out on the lake burning corpses. They probably were among them. Then his eyes fell on Jaime Lannister. He looked rather tired but alert, his stare firmly fixed on Jon.

“Have you learned the number of casualties on our side?” Jon asked Lannister hoping he would have some information. He had not been able to see the fighting on the south end of the lake but he guessed it must have gotten rather violent once the gap had frozen over and the forces were able to meet in close combat over a wide front.

“Not yet but I can assure you it will be low. It is clear they were only trying to keep our forces from helping you. When I interrogated some of the commanders, I learned that the dead didn’t really engage anyone south of the lake with the tenacity they showed whilst targeting you. They just blocked anyone that was trying to reach you and only countered when provoked. I asked each leader to gather the men he had been responsible for so he could make a list of who was killed and who got hurt. First estimate is that approximately fifty were killed.”

He cleared his throat and picked up a cup to drink a few sips. “More than two hundred are wounded though. Thirty are hurt rather severely. The healers estimate all but one have a real chance to pull through. I told them you would like a list with the names of the dead.”

He made a face and added. “After Clegane seconded my claim, they are all agreed and are busy with that right now. That is why you find me in here all alone. I asked Edd Tollet to put together the list of casualties amongst the men from Castle Black.”

“Fifty were killed.” Jon shook his head. “Before the battle started I had hoped for less. After the resurrection and the prolonged fighting, I didn’t dare to make a new estimation.”

“Only fifty casualties against an enemy force of fifty thousand strong, every general would call that an extraordinary, even a miraculous victory, my Prince.” Jaime Lannister tried to get Jon to see the bigger picture.

“He’s right, you know.” Jon was surprised to hear Gendry agree with something Jaime Lannister said.

“Perhaps,” Jon relented. “But for the friends and loved ones of each of those fifty brave men and women who lost their lives, it will be a hard blow.”

“That is another discussion entirely, my Prince. A battle commander must not let such thoughts influence him. His focus must be on winning the fight with the best strategy intent on losing as little men as possible. He must see these men as assets and assess their strengths and weaknesses when he decides who gets the more dangerous tasks. To protect his own sanity, he cannot think of these men as husbands, fathers or only sons.” 

“But we can honour them now.” Jon’s tone allowed no opposition. “I want them all to have a decent burial ceremony. We will make time for that as soon as we have taken care of the ones that are fleeing.”

“What are you talking about, Jon?” Gendry asked.

“I do not want them to be able to inform the Night King of what exactly we did to defeat them. I want to destroy every last one of those wights. My guess is that one or at the most two White Walkers are amongst the fleeing party. As soon as my dragons have rested, I will go after them.” 

Jon tried to get up but Jaime put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising.

“As far as I have been told, they hardly move during daylight and travel at night. And when they do, they travel rather slowly. I propose we rest up and then go after them once we have formulated a solid plan. They needed more than a moon to reach us, isn’t that correct? Then we have a moon to catch them before they are reunited with their leader.”

“I don’t have a moon.” Jon groaned. “I need to head back south. The news of who I really am and the imminent threat I pose to his reign will reach King Robert any day now and he might decide to kill my uncle or launch an attack on Dragonstone.”

“Your dragons are in no condition to fly off straight away, my Prince. We need to come up with a plan to hunt down those wights first anyway. You look exhausted and weak, if you do not mind my frankness. I propose you rest up a bit as well.” Jaime looked at Sandor for support.

“You had the tougher part as always, Jon.” Again it was Gendry who stood by Jaime Lannister. “You need to rest. It won’t do to have Rhaegal recuperated and you not being able to keep your balance on his back or falling asleep high up in the air.”

“Fucking listen to them, boy.” Sandor broke his silence for the first time since entering the tent. “I’ll find Orell and let him fucking search for the enemy. We will have a damned fine plan in place to catch every last of those dead cunts after your beauty sleep.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to close my eyes for a little bit.” Jon relented. “But first, can anyone send a raven or a messenger to Eastwatch? I want them to send word to Dragonstone that we survived the main battle and are just tying up loose ends. Perhaps forward a message to Winterfell as well?”

“I’ll see to it if you promise to rest.” Sandor was already on his feet. “Ghost, look after him until I find Rykker or Stokeworth to take over guard duty.” Clegane clearly dismissed Jaime as someone he trusted to keep Jon safe.

Jon stretched himself out on the furs and carefully arranged his right thigh in a comfortable position. He tucked his coat under his chin and was asleep in no time.

 

***

A while later Jon awoke to hushed voices and the smell of warm food. His stomach grumbled. Assessing his environment he noticed that most of the leaders were assembled in the tent but were installed on the other side a safe distance from where Jon and his direwolf were resting.

Sandor and Tormund immediately switched to his part of the tent bringing food and ale. They witnessed how a silent dialogue between Jon and his white wolf resulted in Ghost bowing his head and reluctantly leaving the tent.

“I told him to go hunting.” Jon explained when he noticed the question written on Sandor’s face.

“Makes sense,” Sandor grumbled. “Better eat this quickly. We want to exchange our experiences from last night and then will finalise our plan to hunt down the last of the dead motherfuckers.”

Jon greedily drank from the offered cup and attacked his bowl of lukewarm porridge. 

“Seems royals get as hungry as the common man.” Sandor teased him.

“Dragonrider or King, they all eat, drink, bleed and shit the same as the Free Folk.” Tormund grinned slapping Sandor’s shoulder.

Jon studied Sandor’s reaction. The man didn’t look bothered one bit by Tormund’s tactile gesture. He quickly emptied his bowl and gratefully accepted a refill of his cup when Tormund offered. 

“How long did I sleep?” Jon asked both men.

“Noon was a while ago.” Tormund answered. 

Jon just nodded and wasted no more time. Soon after, all the leaders were gathered and formed a large circle. Tormund Giantsbane coughed loudly and the debriefing started.

“What went wrong exactly? How did you get isolated and overrun by the enemy?” Jaime Lannister asked Jon a bit later after they had all been briefed on the outcome of the weak attempt of an attack on the fleet with the refugees from Hardhome. 

“It all began with the ice that wasn’t as easy to melt. Nor did the layer of ice give in under the weight of their numbers.” Jon started his explanation eying his empty cup.

“Didn’t you weaken the borders before the battle started?” Apparently Jaime had already gotten some details out of the others commanders about the initial plan.

“I did on several occasions before the battle. The ice still was markedly thinner at the edges before they arrived. Somehow the dead bring the cold with them. You can feel them approaching even if you don’t see them. The temperature drops significantly. Even after dragonfire broke the ice and we had a safe margin of melted water to separate the two armies, those White Walkers only needed to approach and the gaps slowly but surely froze over once more.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you got isolated on the ground so far from our main host. How did that come about?” Jaime’s tone was accusing.

“We were winning. The dead were trapped. I managed to capsize large chunks of ice on several occasions. Thousands drowned, more were burned by the dragons or killed by dragonglass arrows. We managed to destroy several White Walkers which resulted in incapacitating a rather large number of wights. After that the enemy stopped attacking and seemed to accept their defeat as they were slowly retreating. This recounting might seem short and simple but all of that took a lot of time and a great deal of effort. I do not know how long we had been at by the time the enemy appeared defeated. 

The dragons had been spewing fire almost incessantly for a very long time and were drained of most of their energy. I lost count of the number of times we needed to stop burning wights and fly alongside the borders of the lake to melt the ice that threatened to freeze over again and again. All the while the dragons needed to be alert and often had to make evasive manoeuvres to duck ice spears. Rhaegal also had to focus on keeping me on his back. It was no wonder he was the first one to tire. He began to have trouble maintaining his balance. No longer sure I was safe on his back high up in the air I decided to land as soon as the fighting had stopped. The enemy was at a safe distance and retreating.” Jon defended his decision.

“You could have chosen a better spot.” Jaime remarked drily.

“I know but our army was spread out over a large area and I didn’t see a clear landing spot close enough to be absolutely sure that Rhaegal would make it. We would have needed to fly a long way to land behind our own lines. I made a judgement call.” 

Jaime Lannister gave him the exact same look Ser Gerold would have given him, or Ser Oswell, or Ser Arthur for that matter. That thought made Jon lower his head. For a moment he felt like a kid again that had made a stupid mistake during a training session. “I know,” he acceded. “I won’t make that mistake a second time.” 

“That fucking green dragon was no longer flying steadily.” Tormund defended his friend. “We all prayed that the Dragonrider would get off that fire beast before he fell to his death. Nobody could have foreseen the hell that broke lose next.”

“I reckon they were not defeated.” Jaime stated the obvious. “Did they have reinforcements tucked away somewhere?”

“They were fucking resurrected.” Jon vented his frustration by raising his voice and swearing.

Jaime Lannister as much as the others present startled at his unusual outburst. 

“It was indeed a horrifying sight. Nobody expected such a thing to be fucking possible.” Sandor defended his former charge.

Jon sighed and his voice sounded subdued when he explained. “The White Walker standing in the middle of the lake looked straight at me. Every wight still undefeated stopped walking and turned its head and its icy blue eyes toward me. Can you imagine hundreds of them, every cursed single pair of these otherworldly eyes looked straight at me?” Jon shivered and swallowed thickly. 

“But that was not the creepiest thing,” he continued when everyone kept silent, mesmerized by his ominous tone. “The White Walker stood still for a while and then he started smirking. He simply raised his arms and all the wights that had dropped down when we destroyed some of the White Walkers earlier, just stood up and also turned their heads towards me. And then the ice cracked and countless wights started to crawl out of the water. Those were in large part the ones that I had drowned earlier.” 

Jon shook his head, a frustrated, dejected look on his face. “One small gesture of a fucking ice creature and the enemy’s forces were replenished with at least ten thousand wights we already took down once.” 

“All coming for you,” Jaime stated, better understanding the predicament Jon had been in.

“Yes.” Jon took a deep breath to calm down. The retelling had summoned vivid pictures of this traumatic experience to the front of his mind. He was sure he would have nightmares of gruesome blue eyes for years to come. He took another deep breath and forced the vision from his mind. One more deep breath and he felt calm enough to continue.

“Fortunately Viserion had stayed up in the air and did his best to deter most of them. Rhaegal was swamped in a matter of moments and wasn’t as lucky. They only annoyed him. Their swords did nothing more than give him annoying little pricks but they were keeping him busy and more importantly also grounded. Later I noticed that his wing got a small tear.”

When the others looked shocked to hear that, Jon quickly put them at ease. “Don’t worry. My dragon reassured me already that this won’t hinder him one bit during flight and that it will heal soon enough. He just needs rest. Anyway, being distracted by those wights, Rhaegal could only help me with an occasional small burst of fire.” Jon paused. He vividly remembered feeling his dragon’s initial panic and subsequent frustration.

“Mag the Mighty saved me when my foot got stuck between the bones of corpses at my feet. Ser Arthur would not have been proud.” 

Jon looked straight into Jaime Lannister’s eyes when he pronounced his next sentence. “Mind where you step. Be aware of your environment and use it to your advantage.” 

“I remember.” Jamie answered hardly making a sound but Jon read the words from his lips easily. 

“I wonder if he would have been able to find a safe spot to place his foot amidst all that chaos.” Jon muttered to himself. Then he looked straight at Jaime Lannister and spoke up again. “I kept fighting wights off for what felt like ages. That was about the time you came onto the scene. You know what happened next. I am fairly sure I owe you my life. You have my heartfelt thanks. I gather it must not have been easy getting to me, bypassing all those wights.”

Jaime acknowledged Jon’s words with a modest nod. “And circumventing all the corpses of the ones you already slayed. I took a shortcut through the woods and was determined to stop for nothing until I reached you. Any idea why they were all focussed on you?” 

“Because he is the fucking Dragonrider, you dumb cunt.” Tormund exclaimed. Sandor nodded his assent. 

Jon sighed. Sandor Clegane had been very vocal when he had learned Jaime Lannister was travelling with the party from Castle Black to join the fight. “I don’t trust the sisterfucker.” He had protested loudly. “Besides he is a Lannister cunt. They eat Targaryens for breakfast.” 

Jon had needed to tell Sandor fragments of his conversation with Jaime Lannister at Castle Black to appease Clegane but there still seemed to be a residual of bad blood between the two of them. 

“Not just because of that.” Jon admitted and addressed Jaime. “Prince Rhaegar found this prophecy. Apparently I am at the center of it. Everything points to me being the one foretold to kill their Night King.”

“Night King?”

“Their supreme commander who only sent us half of his forces tonight.” Jon straightened his posture. “We need to prevent the remnants of their army from reaching him. We need to go after them and destroy every last one of them.” He said his tone urgent now. 

“And we will. How are your dragons doing?” Jaime asked him.

Jon closed his eyes for a moment. “They have found a dry spot and are resting. They have eaten their fill. They will both be ready when we are.”

“That’s good to hear.” Tormund slapped Jon’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t like to take on those dead fucks without your fire beasts, Dragonrider.”

“Before we continue, has the list been completed yet? How many fatalities?” Jon tone indicated he really wanted to know.

“Fifty three on our last count,” Edd Tollet spoke up. “Many of the Free Folk. The Night’s Watch lost seven men, the Lords of the North,” he looked at Lord Umber.

“Five from the Dreadfort, only one from the rest of my group.”

“I am sorry to hear so many Free Folk lost their lives.” Jon looked at their leaders.

“It was to be expected.” Tormund spoke up. “If you look at it, we lost less than your southerners. I don’t know the fancy term for such calculations but if you consider the damned size of our host, we fucking hardly lost anybody. They will be remembered as heroes and their families will be taken care of. Don’t fret, Dragonrider. I have never witnessed a battle of such a scale with so few casualties on our side. We killed almost fifty thousand dead cunts. Mance Rayder will declare you a fucking God when he hears we only lost forty of the Free Folk while defeating the scariest enemy ever.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgement and then moved on with the meeting. “Sandor, can you coordinate funeral arrangements? If everyone agrees we will build several pyres, one for each division of our army.”

“I fucking want to join you on your mission.” Clegane protested.

“I’d be willing to arrange it.” Edd Tollet offered. The man had a bandage around his head and his swordhand was covered in bandages.

“Thanks, Edd. Get Rykker and Stokeworth to assist you.” Jon responded.

Edd Tollet’s face fell. “My Prince, I was going to tell you later since we agreed not to mention names during this meeting, but ….”

Jon paled. “But?”

“Rykker is on the list. He died trying to reach you. Here.” Edd handed him the scroll with names.

Jon swallowed as his hand automatically reached for the list. Pictures of the first time he had seen Rykker at Castle Black popped up in his mind. He struggled to find the right approach. It wouldn’t do to read the list of names with everyone scrutinising his tiniest reaction. He would save that for after the meeting. Jaime’s words of a battle commander’s way of thinking still rang fresh in his mind.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I am sure your fellow brothers will help make the arrangements. Thanks for letting me know, Edd.” Jon nodded at the ranger and tried to keep his composure. 

Gendry entered the tent his face red and sweat dripping from his temple. “Someone accidentally set fire to the tent with the wounded.” 

“Please don’t stay here on my account. We’ll reconvene when the crisis has passed.” Jon gave everyone permission to leave.

He used the unexpected moment of respite to shift his wounded leg in a more comfortable position. When almost everybody had left, he opened the scroll. He read through the list of names with mixed feelings. He was relieved not to recognise any of the other names but felt guilty at the same time. Just because he didn’t know these men, their loved ones would miss them all the same. He put his head down and closed his eyes for a short time.

He opened his eyes again when a strange scratching noise reached his ears. Apparently he was no longer alone in the tent. 

Jaime Lannister sat a few feet from him, scribbling some things on a scroll. A cool breeze entered the tent and Jon’s eyes drifted to the entrance in time to see Ghost’s muzzle appear. His loyal direwolf had probably sensed his distress when he learned of Rykker’s demise and had come to keep him company. Jon tapped his left thigh and Ghost sprinted inside, quickly positioning himself cosily next to Jon resting his head endearingly on his human’s thigh.

Jaime Lannister’s raised his eyebrow at the blatant display of camaraderie between human and beast but Jon merely shrugged. He had already reigned in his behaviour and postponed Ghost’s promised hug because of the man’s presence. He exploited the fact that Lannister’s gaze was focussed on him to motion the man to approach.

After Lannister had eagerly complied Jon opened the conversation.  
“I want to thank you properly for saving my life out there. Somehow you were able to reach me when all others failed.”

“You looked in a spot of bother and I promised your father.” Lannister answered humbly.

When Jon just kept staring at him, Jaime Lannister added. “You’re welcome, my Prince. After I reached you, it was a joint effort. You handled yourself well.”

Jon raised his eyebrow expressing his doubt. He remembered each word of Lannister’s rather judging interrogation earlier. 

Jaime Lannister gave him a wan smile and explained his change of opinion. “Before I came back in here, the leader of the Free Folk, uh”

“Tormund Giantsbane.” Jon helped him out.

“Giantsbane told me how long you were being besieged before I showed up. Sandor Clegane might have helped him with a few chosen words. Besides, I would have come too late if not for the giant. It seems Mag the Mighty earned your thanks as well. I heard they are still plucking arrows out of him. I am glad he is on our side. How will anybody in King’s Landing ever believe giants fought dead people?”

“Imagine if Mag the Mighty or Wun Wun had gotten killed and had been resurrected. We could easily have faced undead giants on the battlefield. It is really imperative to burn anyone that dies, be it ally or enemy.” 

Jaime nodded and looked Jon over. “You sure do look better.” He remarked.

“Well, I refreshed myself a bit, had some rest and got my wounds taken care of. Ghost looks cleaner too. You should have encountered him earlier.” Jon’s lips curled slightly. “I do not think you are used to such a smell.”

“I wouldn’t know. But don’t bother trying to prove your point.” His face grew more serious. “We need to talk.”

Jon noticed him fiddling with a scroll and studied the item more carefully. It looked more like a rough drawing than a letter. “You are devising a plan?” He asked.

This time it was Jaime’s turn to raise his eyebrow. 

“The prophecy?”Jon guessed. “You want to talk about the prophecy?”

“Amongst other things.”

“You sound like Ser Gerold.” Jon tried to mimic his Lord Commander’s voice and manner of speaking. “My Prince, we need to go over it again. I need a step by step account of the fight. I am sure you have not told me all the details.”

Jaime chuckled but sobered when he saw that the Prince kept his face blank. It was clear that despite his successful rescue effort he had not entirely redeemed himself. He swallowed cursing for the umpteenth time his impulsive act of pushing that Stark boy out of the window.

“That is exactly how I remember Ser Gerold. I don’t need anything that thorough. I just want to walk you through all that I have learned from what you said and from interrogating the others.” Jaime Lannister explained. 

“Have you come up with a plan to eradicate the ones who fled?” Jon opted to change the subject knowing he would be considered a weak commander if they dwelled too long on the tactical mistake he had made and the ‘small’ losses they suffered.

“Yes. We all agreed on it. Knowing our diverse group, that says a lot about the quality of the plan.” 

“Tell me.” Careful not to hurt his thigh, Jon pulled his knees up so he could rest his chin on them his eyes fixed on Lannister.

“Well, first of all we use all we have learned. Rule one: no more disabling wights in a way we cannot burn them immediately.” 

Jon was glad Lannister spoke matter of fact without a hint of accusation in his voice and nodded. “No more drowning. I had come to the same conclusion. I can’t fault myself not to know that in advance though. I had never seen anything like that.”

“Nobody is accusing you of incompetence, my Prince, far from it.” Jaime Lannister’s tone was sincere.

“I burned every last wight on those rafts. Perhaps one or two fell in the water but that couldn’t be helped.” Jon underlined the fact that he had already learned from the events of the battle on the lake before having it pointed out to him by the man.

“And the White Walker?” Jaime had been able to see the creature disintegrate from where he stood on the shore. They had been too far out though for him to be entirely sure every last wight had been destroyed.

“That was strange.” Jon answered his question. “He just stood upright on the raft, barely able to keep his balance. He had no weapons left and raised his arms, leaving himself wide open. He was shot point blank with a single arrow coming from one of the ships. One tiny arrowhead of dragonglass aimed for the spot where his heart would have bene if he had possessed one. It was almost too easy.”

“Perhaps having lost all his weapons and being out on water he was out of options? Perhaps he hoped he could get some of the dead come crawling out of the depths of the sea? That’s how the other one on the lake resurrected the drowned ones, wasn’t it? Just by raising his arms?” Jaime Lannister ventured.

“Perhaps. Then he must not have realised how deep the sea was. They can’t swim so they are not familiar with water.” Jon reasoned.

“Why then go out on the rafts?” Jaime wondered.

“It could have been a command from their commander, the Night King. Or it could have been the irresistible lure of all those beating hearts on the boats? Who knows?” Jon released a deep breath. “We keep getting off track. Is there a rule number two?”

“Lure the White Fuckers to a vulnerable position. Destroy the cunts and be fucking done with it. No use going after dumb carcasses of wights if we don’t fucking have to.” Jaime Lannister used a rougher voice when he spoke these words.

“Let me guess,” Jon gave him a small smile. “Sandor Clegane came up with that one.”

“What gave it away?” Jaime gave Jon a wan smile. “You sure have a strange way of picking your guards. Clegane, the Mountain’s brother and I just heard you appointed a Lady to your Kingsguard?” Jaime Lannister shook his head. The man looked sad now and Jon could easily imagine him to be a bit jealous as well.

“Sandor is loyal to a fault and a fearsome fighter. He hides a heart of gold under his rude speech and rough behaviour. He hated his brother and was almost the only one who dared to speak up and condemn the murder of my half-siblings and their mother. I lost a great Kingsguard when he decided to live amongst the Free Folk. And the Lady Brienne, well she almost beat him in a fight. She fights well and is certainly strong enough. I have yet to meet a man who is more honourable than her.” Jon defended his appointments with fervour.”

When Jaime winced slightly he recollected himself. “Never mind all that. I need neither your consent nor approval. Just tell me what plan you have all come up with to eradicate the ones that fled.”

“Simply put, you are the bait.” Jaime looked at Jon clearly expecting a strong reaction.

“Rhaegal and Viserion won’t like that. They are rather protective of me.” Jon answered calmly, refusing to get riled up. He had faith they would not just throw him to the wolves.

“Then you will have to persuade your dragons. We know there can only be one or two White Walkers left. So it won’t be that difficult.”

“I think only one considering I killed another one the rafts.”

“To think that is all that is left from such an impressive host. Those Free Folk should worship the ground you walk on. You almost singlehandedly saved all of their asses.”

“Trust me. They do. They did long before any of you dumb cunts of southern fuckers did.” Now Jon imitated Sandor Clegane’s voice.

“I know all too well. Tormund almost jumped me and only agreed to our plan when I told him all the contingencies in place to keep you safe. They would rather throw themselves in front of you in a suicidal way instead of having a single curly hair on your charming head harmed.” Jaime revealed a fragment of the discussion that had taken place while Jon had rested.

“If we have some time to kill when things settle down, I will tell you all you about the time I fled Castle Black and found a warm welcome amongst the Free Folk.”

“I might have heard a version of the tale. Stokeworth and Tormund each told their half of it. And I heard from Giantsbane how some of their fiercest leaders kneeled to you after you saved them when you heeded the cry for help from your uncle, Benjen Stark.” 

Jaime paused and tilted his head slightly. “Now, enough stalling. Tell me about the prophecy that Prince Rhaegar found.” Lannister’s tone persuaded Jon that he would not be dissuaded from trying to get to the bottom of this.

Jon acquiesced. “There are two. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that one is a tale and the other is a prophecy. On the one hand there is the northern tale of the Long Night and the Others that rise during a long cold Winter striving to bring eternal darkness and destroying every last living being. They speak of a last hero who together with the children of the forest defeated them eight thousand years ago after which the Wall was built and the Night’s Watch was established. 

On the other hand there is the eastern prophesy of Azor Ahai, a hero that will defeat the Darkness with a flaming sword. This hero is also called the Prince That Was Promised. This Prince is also said to have ‘a song of Ice and Fire’. My father, Prince Rhaegar, was obsessed with this prophecy. 

First he suspected he himself might be this Prince Who Was Promised. Later he became convinced that the Prince must be one of his sons. He wanted to sire a third child because the dragon needs three heads, he wrote to Maester Aemon at the Wall. Since his wife couldn’t give him a third child, he sought to wed a new wife. He had a purpose in choosing Lyanna Stark. 

Now everything points to me. I am the Son of Ice and Fire. I have both ice from the Kings of Winter and fire from the Targaryen dragonlords running through my veins. Greenseers have affirmed this. I have been born to keep the balance. When evil rises, good must rise to. Also, a red priest has seen in the flames that I am The Prince That was Promised and...” Jon’s voice faltered. He bit his lower lip.

“And?” Jaime encouraged him.

“And I had a vision myself.” Jon admitted.

“So you are convinced you are the only one who can defeat this great general up in the North?”

“Their King.” Jon whispered now. “Only a King can defeat a King. I need to become King of the Seven Kingdoms first. Only then do I stand a chance against their leader.”

“Nobody here told me anything about that.” Jaime studied Jon’s face. 

“Nobody knows yet except for my small council. Hells, I didn’t believe it myself until I found their magic hideout nobody can enter.” He kept his voice down so even if someone walked by the tent, they would not be able to overhear them.

“Not even the Prince Who Was Promised.” Jaime kept his tone low now too.

“Not even me seated on a powerful fire breathing dragon could break the barrier. That are problems for later, Lannister.” Jon tried to give his voice some authority when he spoke up again. “Please keep this information to yourself for now. Let us concentrate on preventing any of his foot soldiers or White Walkers from returning to him. They must not be allowed to inform him of what happened here.”

“Assuming they share no magic link and that isn’t too late already.” Jaime ventured shrugging his shoulders. “I hate magic.”

“Let us hope that even if they do have such magic, they can’t communicate over such a vast distance. That is another reason to make haste. We need to go after them as soon as possible. Now about your plan, I believe you still need to tell me the particulars?”

 

***

 

When Jon stepped outside for a bit of fresh air, Stokeworth used the opportunity to approach him.

“My Prince, have you heard?” His voice faltered.

Jon watched him with compassion. The man had a stab wound just under his left shoulder, a split upper lip and a nasty burn on his left hand. He put his hand on the man’s right shoulder. 

“I am sorry, Gylles. I know he was a close friend to you. I am truly sorry. I will personally write to his family after everything has been settled. Do you know what happened?”

Stokeworth proceeded to tell him that Rykker had been sliced through by a rusted sword when he desperately attempted to reach his Prince. His body had been burned moments after he drew his last breath. There would be no body to burn on the ceremonial funeral pyre they were planning.

“We’ll honour him just the same.” Jon had responded to the man’s despondent tone. “Any other’s you knew well among the casualties?”

“Edgerton didn’t get a chance to engage the enemy and is all right. Edd Tollet has a couple of bruises. The others I do not think you knew. Ulmer died when an arrow pierced his throat. Albett lies in the tent of the more severely wounded. He might lose his right arm. The others only have shallow cuts and bruises. Perhaps I should also mention Todder’s sprained ankle. But no, I wasn’t close to any of them.”

“I saw you speaking to Jaime Lannister in a friendly fashion.” Stokeworth added a moment later. “We all were surprised to hear of him helping you. We all wanted to be the one to keep you safe and instead, this man, he ..” Stokeworth’s feelings got the better of him and he had to turn his face away.

“I know it is difficult to believe but Jaime Lannister has chosen to uphold the promise he made to my father, Prince Rhaegar. There is more to this man than meets the eye. He told me why he killed my grandfather. I have absolved him from blame. He had a most honourable reason to act the way he did. He should have told the entire realm what disaster he singlehandedly prevented from happening that day.” Jon defended Lannister.

“But still, all he did afterwards.” Stokeworth objected.

“I told him that I didn’t trust him when we met at Castle Black. He asked for a chance to redeem himself and to make good on the promise he gave my father. I guess he took it. It is highly likely that those two White Walkers would have succeeded in killing me if Lannister had not been able to reach me when he did.” Jon elaborated.

“I guess.” Stokeworth answered reluctantly. 

“Crows or men of the Night’s Watch fighting side by side with Free Folk also known as Wildlings, would you have believed that a few moons ago?” Jon asked him.

“No, my Prince.” 

“Well there you have it. Perhaps you should give Jaime Lannister a chance then?”

“I will if you ask me to, my Prince.” Stokeworth answered and the matter was closed.

 

***

 

When darkness covered the lands beyond the Wall, Sandor and Stokeworth kept watch when both Jon and Orell warged into birds to search for the whereabouts of the enemy. Jon had found a night owl. Orell followed him in his eagle. The enemy had indeed not ventured far yet. Jon counted only a few hundred wights. No wonder Rhaegal and Viserion had been exhausted. If that was all that was left of a force of fifty thousand strong, they must really have outdone themselves. He only saw one White Walker. If only they had taken one more out on the battlefield they could have all slept soundly tonight. A short burial ceremony the next morning and he could have been flying south once more. Instead he was flying in the body of a rather young night owl using the bird’s ability to see things clearly in the dark.

Having located the enemy he now continued further north scouting the landscape for a clearing matching Jaime Lannister’s requirements. Jon released the eagle and regained consciousness back in the war tent. He quickly leapt to his feet and instructed the small force consisting exclusively of Free Folk and Jaime Lannister to head out. Jaime had changed his attire and wore a copy of Jon’s coat. He had also used black coals to darken his hair. They spurred their horses. They intended to circle around the enemy and still reach that clearing before the next night fell. They counted on the fact that the enemy would camp out somewhere during daylight. Perhaps they hid in caves or crawled under bushes? Orell would try to find out. Much about the enemy was still a mystery. They would close the trap when the enemy marched once more after dusk the next night.

 

***

 

Jaime sat in the middle of the clearing and waited for the show to start. He had lit a small fire and was roasting a rabbit. The others were hidden north of the clearing and were watching the sky. Viserion who lay a bit further away suddenly lifted his head which startled a few men who had been eying the dragon that lay too close for their comfort with some anxiety. They followed the large beast’s gaze and saw a dark shadow move thought the sky. It was time.

Jon heard their screeches before he saw them. He flew low above the ground and gave Rhaegal the go ahead. He lowered his back and grasped the spines tightly. Rhaegal made the perfect show. It appeared as if he tried to climb higher up into the sky only to falter each time and dropped back down turning and losing his balance. He repeated these antics a few times always ending up a bit further north. When he finally hoovered over the clearing he successfully mimicked a dramatic fall from the skies. 

The darkness combined with the trees and bushes between the wights and the clearing made it impossible for the enemy to see what really occurred once Rhaegal’s form disappeared behind the tall tree tops. Both dragon and rider hid north of the clearing and Jaime Lannister sat on the ground pretending to be the crashed dragonrider.

As soon as the first wights entered the clearing Jaime sprang to his feet. The White Walker also entered the clearing. Upon seeing Jaime all alone, he stopped and all the wights who had already entered the clearing halted as well. The White Walker carefully studied the environment taking his time, probably searching for a sign of the dragon. Rhaegal lying on the opposite end of the clearing let out a small groan. That was enough confirmation for the White Walker. He allowed the rest of the wights to enter the clearing. Jaime took a few steps to his left side which put even more distance between him and the green dragon. 

The moment the wights charged at him he rolled to the side and Rhaegal let out an enormous burst of fire killing a large group of wights. Viserion who had been hiding south of the clearing knew it was his turn. The silverwhite dragon rose up in the sky and let out a big roar. Moments later the trees behind the wights resembled giant torches. The wights that had escaped his dragonfire were all forced to enter the clearing. 

The twenty men of the Free Folk that they had handpicked from a large group of volunteers now left their hiding place and stood in a wide circle behind Jaime Lannister. All had torches in their hands. Jon who had stayed hidden behind Rhaegal now climbed on his dragon’s back and took out his bow and arrow. Jaime had Blackfyre in his hand and slew the few wights that reached him with remarkable ease. Viserion had successfully created half a circle of fire. No one could escape that way. The White Walker fixed his stare on Jon and raised his arms. 

The ground around him moved. A dozen frozen corpses dug their way to the surface and fixed their macabre blue eyes on him. The clearing was a either a burial ground or the place where a hunting party had met their untimely end. While Jon was about to curse their bad luck, Rhaegal was not impressed and simply burned all the newly recruited corpses before they had the chance to emerge completely from their grave. 

The Free Folk all took out their bows. Jon loosened his first arrow. The White Walker ducked and advanced on him. Several arrows hit him. A few got stuck in the creature’s right arm. The White Walker only fastened his pace towards Jon. Jaime slew the last wight with Blackfyre and tried to catch up with the White Walker. The creature still had a big lead. 

“Lannister, keep your distance. Remember what I told you.” Jon shouted and was relieved to see the man stop in his tracks. Although it was too dark to see his facial expression, Jon was sure Jaime Lannister was very frustrated. “Nock your arrows. Wait for my command.” Jon ordered the Free Folk that still stood in an orderly half circle behind him.

Without further ado, Rhaegal and Viserion enveloped the White Walker in dragonfire, Rhaegal from the front, Viserion from behind. 

“Loose!” Jon shouted. 

A new salvo of dragonglass arrows hit the White Walker who was using all his energy to keep the fire at bay. One moment the creature was still standing there, the next the two streams of fire hit one another. At once both Viserion and Rhaegal stopped breathing fire. Silence fell over the clearing. The only sound Jon’s ears picked up was the crackling of the fire that was raging at the south end of the clearing. The large burning trees there provided ample light to make sure that not a single enemy creature had survived the attack.

On Jaime Lannister’s signal, the Free Folk broke their formation and advanced to set fire to every single part of a wight they could find. 

“It is over, my Prince.” Jaime helped Jon descend from the dragon. Rhaegal kept a wary eye on him but let the man help his human whose frail leg was still a bit stiff. But the man just held Blackfyre in both hands and offered it back to Jon.

“It is over for now.” Jon corrected Jaime Lannister while he accepted his sword and proceeded to sheath it into the empty scabbard dangling from his waist. “The Gods only know when they will strike again.”

“First you claim your throne. Next I see you, I hope to call you my King, my Prince. I would give anything to be allowed to swear you my sword.”

“With all the strange things we have seen these last few sennights, who knows. Anything can happen.” Jon looked up to the sky. “I’d like to send word. Do you have some writing material on you perchance?”

“Whatever for?”

“See that eagle up there? That is Orell. I want to send a message to Hardhome.” 

“Wouldn’t it be faster if you flew there on your dragon? The threat has been eliminated. We will be safe now when we travel back to Hardhome. We will meet you there in a day.”

“After the burial ceremony I’ll probably return to Eastwatch and then onward to Dragonstone.” Jon warned him and then turned to the men of the Free Folk who had agreed to come on this mission.

“Thanks for your support. Together we just completed another successful battle.” He spoke up so everyone could hear him loud and clear.

“It was an easy victory with two dragons by our side.” Their leader spoke up. “The Free Folk owe a big debt to the Dragonrider.”

“The Dragonrider is honoured to have been offered the friendship of the Free Folk.” Jon responded formally. He looked around one last time and turned to mount his dragon.

Jaime nudged his side. “Chances are I won’t see you again before you fly off to Eastwatch. I have orders to return with my men to Castle Black and no excuse whatsoever to make a detour to Eastwatch first. Could you spare me a few moment of your time now before you return to Hardhome. No matter how fast I urge my horse, I will never make it there on time.” 

Jon looked into the man’s pleading cat-green eyes and relented. “Let’s find a dry spot to sit down for a moment then.”

“You are sure we have another battle of this scale to look forward too?” Jaime asked when they sat down on a fallen tree.

“Looking forward is perhaps not the right term.” Jon sighed. “But yes. At least a battle this scale. The Gods know how much more powerful the enemy will grow before they emerge from their magic stronghold.”

“I want to be put in charge of organising our defenses and coming up with a strategy.” Jaime requested.

“You have ideas.” Jon stated the obvious.

“Several. I won’t trouble you with details now. Bottom line, we do not fight out in the open. You convince the Warden of the North to let the Free Folk find refuge for a while south of the Wall and use this large ice structure your ancestors built to hold off each attack they launch. Their numbers won’t matter if we have the upper ground. This way you can deplete their numbers slowly but surely.”

Jon looked at Jaime. “That was my ideal plan for this battle but there was no way the Lords of the North and the Night’s Watch would have agreed to let the Free Folk south of the Wall nor would the Free Folk have willingly evacuated their lands. The time we had to convince both parties was too short. Hardly anybody had ever seen a wight before let alone a White Walker. It is a difficult thing to believe without seeing it with your own eyes.”

“Things are different now and you have moons, perhaps even years to prepare. As I said, I have several ideas on how to use the Wall to our advantage. Let me take some of this burden of your shoulders, Prince Aegon.” Jaime pleaded.

“I’ll talk with Ser Gerold and we will keep in touch. Probably by raven.” Jon promised.

“I would give anything to be a free man and swear you my sword. Your father was a dear friend and ever since I learned that they are alive, I miss my former mentors, Ser Arthur most of all. My whole world has been turned upside down since I heard they survived the Rebellion and a son of Prince Rhaegar lived. If only I could turn back time.” Jaime bowed his head overcome with emotion.

“Do you know,” he continued a bit later, “that I almost had to beg Cotter Pyke on my knees to be allowed to join the fighting force heading for Hardhome? I would have though, prostrated myself before him if necessary. I made a promise to your father.”

Jon stayed silent. His respect for Jaime Lannister had grown with leaps and bounds. It was difficult to still see in him the man that had pushed his cousin Bran from that tower. When he looked at Jaime Lannister now, he saw a capable battle commander, a brave man willing to put his life on the line for a cause he believed in. Not only had he jumped in the fray amongst hundreds of wights, he had also offered to be the bait this very night. 

‘Just as a Kingsguard would do!’ Jon chastised himself for not having drawn the comparison before. He suddenly saw Jaime Lannister’s behaviour in a new light. The man stuck close to Jon whenever he had the opportunity. He had been able to reached Jon when no one else succeeded and tonight he had taken Jon’s place as bait. All moves a trained Kingsguard would make, never mind his promise to Prince Rhaegar to protect his offspring. Jaime Lannister was a trained Kingsguard, one trained by Ser Arthur Dayne himself.

Jon kept staring in the distance his mind warring with conflicting feelings. He was still debating how to respond when Jaime Lannister broke the silence once more. His voice sounded resigned to his fate now.

“I wish you all the best, my Prince. I look forward to receiving the raven that heralds you as King Aegon the Sixth of his Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and the True Protector of the Realms of Men. Perhaps one day the Night’s Watch might send me on a mission to find new recruits and I can see you on the Iron Throne with my own eyes.”

Jon finally turned his head and met Jaime Lannister’s melancholic eyes. “Perhaps. But you will certainly see me at Castle Black when the Night King makes his next move. I will write to Cotter Pyke on your behalf.”

Jaime nodded and stayed silent.

“I better return to my dragons and fly to Hardhome.” Jon made a move to get up and was immediately offered the strong arm of Jaime Lannister. He let himself be pulled upright.

“You’ve proven you are more than what people say about you, Ser Jaime.” Jon used Lannister’s former title on purpose. “You showed us and yourself that you can still make a difference and lead an honourable life. Try not to dwell too much on past mistakes and strive to become the man you were always destined to be. Title or not, the vows of your knighthood still motivate your actions. I’ll recommend you to Cotter Pyke and order him to ignore the restrictions Robert Baratheon gave him when you were sentenced to the Wall.”

“I’m grateful, my Prince.” Jaime bowed and released his arm when they neared the group of the Free Folk.

Jon nodded and turned to take his leave of the small group of volunteers. He knew only a few of them by name. Sandor and Tormund had handpicked them when they had finally agreed to stay behind to see to it that Free Folk, Crows and ‘Southerners’ would not get into more drunken fights.

High up in the air he kept thinking of the rueful, dejected demeanour of Jaime Lannister and wondered if they would consider him crazy if he relayed to them how difficult it had been not to pardon Jaime Lannister on the spot and give him back his life south of the Wall. He felt a kind of unexplainable kinship with the former knight, and couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Jaime Lannister had been present at the Tower of Joy all these years ago and someone else, for example Ser Arthur had stayed in the Red Keep when the Mad King threatened to burn down King’s Landing and all its inhabitants.

When he reached Hardhome, he was obliged to put these thoughts away to examine them at a later date. Lady Brienne was waiting for him a safe distance away from his dragons. Edric and Loras Tyrell were also approaching. He hadn’t seen the three of them since he left them on the ship after the rafts had been burned and the White Walker leading the attack on his fleet had been defeated.

Lady Brienne greeted him formally. Edric came running up next and gave him a brief hug. Loras stood awkwardly next to Brienne and bowed. “My Prince.”

“I must congratulate you all on a job well done.” Jon spoke to all three of them but his gaze lingered longer on Lady Brienne.

“You were right, my Prince. They did come for the ships.” Lady Brienne answered demurely but the colour rose in her cheeks.

“Pathetic attack.” Edric remarked. “I heard about the fight here. I can’t imagine fifty thousand men in one place. Let alone all of them trying to kill you.”

“Let’s talk about this some other time. We first need to honour our fallen. Have you seen Sandor around or do you know when the ceremony will be held?”

“Tonight shortly before dusk.” Loras Tyrell answered.

“Then I can first catch some sleep. I am turning into a night owl. Fighting at night and sleeping the morning away.” Jon looked at the sky and guessed by the position of the sun that he still could get plenty or rest in before the sun reached its highest peak.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to break your fast first, my Prince?” Lady Brienne offered.

“I will, perhaps while we eat you can brief me on what happened at your end?” Jon asked while he walked to the side of the encampment where the cooks always had food at the ready.

 

***

 

To Jon it seemed as if he had only been asleep for mere moments when someone shook him awake.

“Jon. Jon! An urgent message for your eyes only.”

Jon scrambled to get to a sitting position. “How? When? From whom?”

“Forwarded from Eastwatch to Hardhome. I think it is from Davos or Ser Gerold. Anyway, it came originally from Dragonstone.” Gendry was still breathing heavily. It seemed he had run all the way to the tent where Jon was resting.

Jon rubbed his eyes and clumsily broke the familiar seal. “It is from Davos all right.” He paled and dropped the scroll in his lap. 

“I need to fly to Dragonstone. I have not an instance to lose. Gendry, tell everyone to go ahead with the funeral as planned. Afterward anyone who wants to leave and go home can do so. I want you, Edric, Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne to head for Eastwatch tomorrow morning and await further instructions.” 

He smiled tiredly at his friend. “You might get to see Winterfell sooner than you imagined, Gendry.”

“Jon, shouldn’t you rest up a bit longer. What can be so urgent that you can’t spare half a day. You will at least need two days to get there. Are you and your dragons really up for that? How is your thigh?”

Jon picked up the scroll again and read the few lines one more time. “I’ll ask my dragons.” He decided finally and awkwardly got to his feet.

“Can’t you ask them from here? I mean, just close your eyes and do your thing?” Gendry urged Jon to return to his previous position.

“You are not thinking clearly,” he further tried to persuade his friend. “A clear sign you are exhausted from everything you’ve been through. I hope your dragons agree with me. I might tie you up if they don’t.”

“Damn, I’ll miss you, Gendry. Somehow, you get under my skin without me resenting you for it. It must have something to do with our shared blood, Cousin. I pray you can have a calming influence on Robb as well when you see him next.”

Not waiting for a reply, Jon closed his eyes and contacted his dragons. Rhaegal was fast asleep and Jon could sense the dragon’s exhaustion. He was not fit to fly the entire way to Dragonstone yet. Better to wait one more day than crashing in the ocean from exhaustion. 

“No need to search for those ropes, Gendry. I’ll rest a bit longer. Wake me if I sleep past the second half of the afternoon.

***

 

The funeral ceremony marked another event for the history books: Wildlings, Crows and Lords of the North praying together, honouring their dead in a joint ceremony. Jon made a mental note to describe the funeral in fine detail to Sam later. 

He was set to fly to Eastwatch at first light and then evaluate Rhaegal’s condition before attempting the long trek south. He had spent some time with Rhaegal when they both were awake in the late afternoon. Jon had urged him to eat some more to regain his strength. The dragon’s spirit had lifted when he heard they would soon be heading home to Dragonstone. Jon was sure Rhaegal would do his best to regain his strength as soon as possible. If it had not been so cold at night, Jon would have slept amidst his dragons his last night beyond the Wall. Instead he opted to set up a larger tent close to the beach where his dragons had settled in for the night. Ghost and Gendry would stay with him during the night.

Loras, Edric and Lady Brienne kept him company until it was time to retire. Loras and Edric entertained Jon with a hilarious description of Lady Brienne’s encounter with Tormund Giantsbane. The man had flirted shamefully with her and had offered to set her up with one of his friends all the while telling her how his heart was sad he only met her after he had already been claimed by another. Lady Brienne at first took part in the conversation making fun of the big red headed half-giant. By the end of the tale however she had fallen silent and sported two big red cheeks.

Despite the fact that Jon had slept a large part of the day, he fell asleep immediately and it was not until the early morning that his sleep was disturbed by strange dreams. He woke with a start and felt energized. All would be well. This time it had not been nightmares that had awoken him. If what he had dreamt was a greendream, then perhaps things would work out for the best.

He exited the tent in time to see a beautiful red sun emerging from the water and colour the sky in all shades of orange and red. He stretched his body and lifted his arms up towards the sky. Things were looking up. Soon he would be back on Dragonstone and he could finally concentrate on claiming the throne that had been stolen from his family. It was time to clear his father’s name and tell the realm what a loving husband he had been instead of a rapist. And then he and Dany would marry. 

When he looked back towards the sea, the water once more looked its normal shade of greenish blue and the sun had risen a bit higher in a now clear blue sky. _‘Time to break my fast. If Jaime Lannister has ridden part of the night, I will still be able to say goodbye to him before he heads back to Castle Black. I’ll make certain to talk to my three Kingsguards about him. They knew him before things went wrong. I need to learn more about who he was before.’_

Jon’s musings were interrupted when Ghost nudged his left thigh. Jon petted the white wolf’s head.  
“Come on, Ghost. Time to find us some food.”

 

***

 

Jon was in the midst of breaking his fast when Lord Osric Umber appeared. “My Prince.” He greeted. “I am sorry to disturb your meal but we all heard you will be leaving soon and a spokesman for the Bolton men has asked repeatedly to be granted an audience. I stalled him yesterday but now I think perhaps that was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Who knows when you will be returning to the North, my Prince?” Lord Umber stated the obvious. “These men want to be reassured. They suffered the heavier losses if you take into account what a small group they were to begin with.”

“How did that come about?” Jon asked fully alert now.

“Sheer bad luck. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, shall we say. The gap froze over where they were positioned on the front lines. Many of these men were servants instead of seasoned warriors.”

“I didn’t realise servants had been placed on the front lines.” Jon frowned.

“They volunteered, my Prince. Repeatedly if I may say so. They were under my command. Do not assume the blame for my decision to give in to their request”

“Then granting their spokesmen some of my attention is the least I can do for them. If I do not have the time, can you send Lord Bolton a message conveying my thanks for their assistance and describe the bravery his men showed in the face of such a fierce enemy?”

“You can count on it my Prince. And I’ll summon Nage immediately.” The large man bowed and left Jon and Ghost to finish their meal in peace.

Jon’s mind once more debated on how random actions could change the fate of men. This time it was not only Jaime Lannister’s predicament that occupied his mind, he thought about Rykker, Stokeworth, Domeric Bolton and also about the poor servants that had died trying to regain honour they hadn’t really lost in the first place. How many men had already died in his service over the years? He was glad to focus on something else when Lord Umber reappeared with Nage, the spokesman for the Bolton delegation and focussed his attention on hearing what the man came to say.

 

***

 

Before he left, Jon briefly took his leave from the leaders of the Free Folk. Gendry, Tormund, Sandor and Ygritte got a more personal goodbye. Stokeworth had tears in his eyes when Jon hugged him and whispered in his ear that if all went well he could expect to receive a royal pardon very soon and if he so desired, that he would always have a position at his court.

Jon sent a scroll to Lord Manderly informing his Master of Ships that he had given the ships docked at the Bay of Ice the order to return to Bear Island. The ships at Hardhome would sail to Eastwatch and stay there another fortnight until things were settled over there.

He also gave Lady Brienne detailed instructions for their travels south. They would sail with the fleet to Eastwatch, hand over a scroll from Jon to the Commander there and then choose three ships to safely sail all the way to Dragonstone. Edric and Loras would of course accompany her. Gendry planned to travel to Winterfell in the company of the small group from Winterfell. He also carried several letters from Jon. He would visit there for a moon or so and then continue south to Dragonstone or King’s Landing if all went according to plan. 

At first Jon had wanted to send Ghost south with Lady Brienne. But after communicating with his direwolf, it became clear that Ghost would rather travel overland. His direwolf did not even opt to accompany Gendry for the first part of the journey. Ghost clearly preferred to travel at his own speed. Jon was worried for his direwolf’s safety but had relented acknowledging the fact that Ghost had a right to make his own decisions. He was not a pet but a companion and a dear friend. He just hoped that his direwolf would not get lost or come to harm on his way south.

Jon felt as if a big weight had fallen of his shoulders the moment his dragons took to the sky and he could leave the North behind. He waved one last time at his friends who had assembled to see him off. He had done his duty and could finally concentrate on his own cause again. 

 

 

**Interlude 33: A pack has only one leader**

“You are just parroting what Jon says and does.” Robb accused his Uncle.

“I am only thinking of your well-being and of what is best for the North.” Benjen Stark tried once more to make his nephew see sense. “Just look at it from Lord Norrey’s perspective.

“I don’t have to. I am the ruling Warden of the North in absence of my father and I will grant Lord Flint his request. I don’t have to consider Lord Norrey’s wishes and I certainly am under no obligation to heed your advice.”

“All right, I give in, Nephew. Let us not quarrel over such a small issue.” Benjen took a step forward prepared to concede once more. It had been a trying few sennights. Robb fought him at every turn. It seemed his stubborn brother had ordered his son and heir to rule the North the same way he did: with absolute authority and relying solely on his own rigid ideas and decisions. 

_'The Lords of the North are stubborn.'_ Ned Stark had written to his son. _'Give them a little leeway and they’ll never obey you again. The only way to keep them in hand is to rule with an iron fist and never have your edicts second guessed by anyone, not in public, not even in private. Such things have a way of getting out and nobody will respect you if they so much as get a hint that you lean on others to come to a decision.'_

Robb stood up leaning his hands on the large desk and towered over his uncle who remained seated. “If it was only this one time, I might give you a free pass, Uncle. But you offer unrequested advice at every opportunity, knowing full well you bestow it to an unwilling recipient and much too frequently. I have tried to be patient, Uncle. But perhaps I am to blame to have let this situation get out of hand. I ask you formally to cease interfering in my business or you will no longer be welcomed in my presence.” 

“Robb, please sit down again. I understand that …” 

He was cut off by Robb’s riposte. “Don’t you dare tell me one more time that I am tired or not well enough yet. Or perhaps this time you were about to retort that I was not thinking clearly because I have too much on my plate for one so young? Whichever excuse you were going to come up with for what you perceive to be unreasonable behaviour on my account, let me tell you once and for all that I am well again and I am thinking clearly. Just because I have a different opinion than you on some things, doesn’t mean that I am the one who is in the wrong. Ever think of that, Uncle?”

Benjen Stark bit his tongue in an effort not to yell at his nephew. His thoughts flitted back to the events in the training yard this morning. It had been abundantly clear how quickly Robb had tired and how frustrated his nephew had been when he lost the grip on his sword several times and dropped it like a green boy just starting to learn his first moves. 

But Benjen couldn’t get around the truth any longer. Things hadn’t gone smoothly between him and Robb lately. Robb disagreed with almost every statement that came out of his mouth. Sometimes is seemed his nephew did it just because he could contradict him. There had been a particular discussion where Benjen had tested this theory. They had debated a problem at the beginning of the meeting and Benjen had leaned one way with his advice to have it contradicted by Robb who instantly changed the subject. When later during the same meeting they returned to the still unresolved topic and Benjen had given the exact opposite advice compared to earlier, Robb had instantly told his uncle he was utterly wrong and had asked Benjen to just let him handle the problem on his own. 

He sighed when he saw the stubborn look on Robb’s face. “Am I to understand you are fully recovered and no longer need my presence here at Winterfell?” Benjen did his utmost to keep the bitterness from showing in the tone of his voice.

“I have things under control here and you are free to leave. I know you are itching to go back to my paragon of a cousin. Don’t let me keep you.” Robb answered and sat back down.

Benjen tried not to flinch and hid how insulted he felt. Ever since he had let it drop that Jon had become betrothed to Princess Daenerys and that it was a love match, Robb had at times shown a slight resentment toward his cousin. It didn’t help that Ned was urging his son to consent to a betrothal with Margaery Tyrell before allowing the young couple to meet each other first as had previously been agreed.

“Your cousin is putting his life at risk to save the North. He is perhaps on the battlefield as we speak.” Benjen kept his voice down but his body language showed his disapprobation.

“I don’t want to talk about this any further.” Robb sighed. “Just leave me alone for now, Uncle. I still need to respond to all these messages. 

Benjen Stark left his chair. “Shall I send for Maester Luwin?”

“No need.” Robb answered not looking up. “I have it under control.”

 

***

 

**Two days later at the crack of dawn in the courtyard of Winterfell**

“Are you really going all the way South to the Iron Throne, Uncle Benjen? Can I come with you?”   
Arya Stark tugged at his coat stopping her uncle from grabbing the reins of his horse. His youngest niece had always been an early riser and she had been sent to bed long before the small farewell feast had been in full swing.

Benjen turned and looked down into her eager eyes. “Perhaps next time, Arya.”

“Jon will need me to come visit soon, I am sure of it.” Her big eyes pleaded with her uncle to reconsider.

“Then you better wait till you receive his invitation, little one.” He smiled at her eagerness.

“I am no longer little. Tell Jon that when you see him. Tell him I will help him get rid of the usurperer.” She tugged at his coat to make sure he heeded her words.

“Usurpers, Arya. And I won’t forget to tell him that, you have my word. But in turn you must promise me to keep training hard and show up in time for your lessons with Maester Luwin. A King’s protector not only needs to know how to wield a sword but must be smart and know all the sigils and the allegiances of the houses of the entire realm. That and many things more so you can be a real help to your cousin.” He gently wormed his coat out of the strong grip of her little fist.

“I will do my best, Uncle Benjen. Make sure to tell Jon that too.” She stepped backs so he could grab the reins of his horse.

“It is time I am off then. Don’t forget to write to Jon yourself. I know how much he enjoys receiving a raven from you.” He smiled when he saw her nod several times with honest conviction.

Benjen quickly mounted his stallion and spurred it in the direction of the large gate. Leaving the stronghold, he prayed that Robb would be able to cope with everything on his own. He would have to persuade Jon that it was for the best that he left Robb to his own devices. If Jon had only glimpsed a part of Robb’s behaviour during the small feast that Catelyn had arranged as a sending off party for him, he would not question Benjen’s decision to leave. Robb had hardly spoken a word to his uncle until later in the evening when he was in his cups. In his drunken state, his nephew had made some derogatory remarks that still hurt too much to dwell on. Benjen startled when he heard the large gates of his childhood home close after him. 

He took a deep breath and felt the knot in his stomach ease. It was time for a new era to begin. This Stark was travelling south. He urged his horse faster and rode in the direction of the Kingsroad. He had sent out ravens to all his acquaintances for a fresh horse to be readied. He would travel on his own, overland at high speed and would arrive in King’s Landing in a record number of days. And at the end of this arduous journey he would find a nephew who would welcome him with open arms and who would be grateful and very happy to have his company and advice.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will take place at King's Landing.  
> The interlude on the other hand will show us how Tyrion is faring at Casterly Rock.


	34. A King's conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Robert gets played.  
> The interlude takes place at Casterly Rock and is set slightly in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to unforeseen circumstances this chapter is unbeta’d. I chose to post it anyway so you all did not have to wait another week for an update.

*

Jon had briefly considered stopping at Winterfell but had quickly decided against it. He had already lost valuable time and Rhaegal seemed to have recuperated well enough to travel a long distance in a straight line. Besides, if Davos sent him such an urgent but welcome message, he better not linger too long. And who was he kidding? Even if he intended to make a very short stop to see Robb, Uncle Benjen and the rest of his cousins, it would be difficult to leave after only a short greeting. They would guilt trip him into staying at least a day. 

Since there was no need to make a detour overland to stop at Greywater Watch, his journey would be considerably shorter if he travelled along the east coast. This time Jon was in a real hurry to get home and not just to see Dany again. He planned to rest part of the night at Widow’s Watch or on the shores of the northern most Finger. He would let his dragons decide which of the two. 

High up in the air, with the wind blowing in his face, he felt the excitement bubbling up inside of him. Free of the worry that the dead would overrun the Free Folk anytime soon, he could finally allow himself to be selfish and embrace his own goals. The Iron Throne was so close he could almost hear it calling out to him. And his betrothal would be a really short one. If all went well, they needed only to wait for the time it took to organise the ceremony. Then he would no longer have to limit himself to kisses and stolen touches under the all-seeing eyes of Ser Barristan.

His mood improved the nearer they got to Dragonstone. He was slightly disappointed to see that his ships did not yet display the Targaryen sigil when the bay of Dragonstone came into sight. Everything looked just as before. Perhaps fewer ships were anchored in the smaller bay but no visible signal of Targaryens ruling supreme. When he thought about it some more, he had to admit that it was for the best. Better to play it safe and not botch things up at the very last moment. 

Seeing a lot of activity in the larger harbour and some familiar looking silhouettes as well, he landed close by the docks. He had been right. Ser Gerold and the rest of his Kingsguards were overseeing the loading of his flagship, the Princess Daenerys. ‘Must do something about that name soon.’ A big smile lit his face at that thought and it didn’t diminish when he limped awkwardly towards his three loyal friends. He had forgotten how stiff his wounded leg got after a long period of inaction.

“My Prince!” Ser Gerold called out while running up to him. The four knights met him more than halfway but stopped a few feet away from him. “We got word from Eastwatch that you were coming. You certainly made good time. How is your leg?”

“I won’t be sparring for a few days yet I am afraid. I will need you to protect my back.” He answered smiling from ear to ear. 

“We’ll protect your front, your left and your right side as well,” Ser Arthur made a small step forward as he joined the conversation. Welcome back, my Prince.” The knight hesitated but then bowed formally to greet Jon.

“I’m very glad to be back and to see you all.” Jon smile dimmed a little. He didn’t move from his spot trying to wrap his mind around what was off.

He answered Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan’s stiff bows with a nod and a friendly smile but couldn’t help noticing the quick glance they threw in Ser Gerold’s direction. He studied the men curiously. They all seemed genuinely glad to see him. However, nobody had hugged him or had as much as touched his shoulder. Not really sure how to deal with the unusual situation his eyes had wandered to the men that were loading crates onto his flagship. “We are all set to leave soon?” He asked a bit hesitant now. 

“Tomorrow morning before first light, my Prince. Might I suggest you go inside and have a bath and a nice warm meal? I can only imagine the hardships you endured beyond the Wall. A clean outfit has been made ready for you.” Ser Gerold’s speech was more formal than usual.

Jon eyed them suspiciously now. “And you will all stay down here, while I go all the way up there?” He looked pointedly in the direction of the castle with its long winding stairway that was a long way from where he was standing.

Ser Oswell looked at Ser Gerold hesitantly and explained. “Sandor Clegane wrote that we should order you to fly up to the Castle. His scroll mentioned you were too darn weak to climb all those fucking stairs with a nasty cut on your thigh, my Prince.” 

“Sandor wrote that? He has never been to Dragonstone.” Jon was almost sure now he had landed in some strange dream where everything was upside down. His Kingsguards were behaving strangely.

“Apparently he wrote this because Jaime Lannister wouldn’t stop nagging until he did, my Prince.” Ser Barristan added stiffly.

“Then I guess I will heed their advice.” Jon looked a little lost. He hesitated but then decided to assess Dany’s, Sam’s and Davos’ behaviour before drawing any conclusions. 

He turned around and limped toward the place that Rhaegal had landed. The green dragon sensed his needs and lowered his wing without further ado. At least one living being still had some affection for him. When they were in the air he could see the knights arguing below him. It looked like it was three against one. Ser Gerold was gesturing heavily toward the three Kingsguards who formed a united front clearly not happy with what their Lord Commander was telling them. 

Rhaegal’s large form had some trouble landing close to the gates without damaging the centuries old stone walls. After a bit of manoeuvring they succeeded and Rhaegal flew off as Jon stepped up to the gate bearing the large sigil of the three headed dragon of House Targaryen.   
The large gate slowly opened and the guards stood to attention when Jon passed them trying to not to limp too much. Dany flew into his arms as soon as he stepped inside the hall. Jon embraced her, immensely relieved that some things were still the same. He kissed her and then quickly released her again, conscious of the crowd in the hall that had all stopped what they were doing. Davos quickly came forward and gave Jon a hug. 

“Glad to have you back, son. Let me look at you. He released Jon and took a step back, his keen eyes taking everything in. 

Jon knew Davos would have recognised the effort he had put in in to disguise the worst of his limp. Hells, the man probably had noticed the hesitant way he had looked at them before Dany’s greeting had lessened his worries substantially. Davos eyes’ wandered from the tired lines in the young man’s face to his thigh where the heavy bandages were straining his breeches.

“Better come with me, son. We will let the Maester see to your thigh. The servants started to draw you a hot bath as soon as our lookouts informed us your dragons had been spotted. We put the tub in a room on the ground level. No need to climb all these stairs to your usual quarters. Just follow me, please.”

Jon looked at Dany, an apology visible in his eyes. 

“It’s alright, Aegon. I’ll see you after.” She pressed his hand and gave him a light peck on his cheek. 

Jon limped after Davos to a room he had never entered before. The first thing he saw besides the large steaming tub was a beautiful outfit that had meticulously been laid out for him on a wooden bench. Pristine looking shiny boats stood on the ground beneath it.

“Davos, what is going on here?” Jon asked, glad that his Hand had installed himself on a small stool in the corner. At least Davos hadn’t left him at the first opportunity. His leisurely pose indicated that he had decided to keep Jon company while he bathed. 

Davos studied the large bandage covering his leg when Jon pulled down his breeches. “Sandor wrote you had a nasty cut. We don’t want it to get infected. I told you, the Maester will be here shortly.”

“Don’t underestimate the healers of the Free Folk.” Jon admonished him lightly. “When it comes to sewing wounds, they are as competent as any learned Maester.”

“Hmm. The bandage looks clean enough.” Davos conceded.

“Davos, is there something I should know about my Kingsguards?” Jon reformulated his earlier question. He had his back to his Hand now so he could lean on the table while he finished undressing.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Davos answered innocently but Jon could see a shadow appear in the man’s eyes when he peeked over his shoulder to check out the older man’s reaction. Davos knew something. He was sure of it.

“You are my Hand, are you not?” Jon’s patience was waning. 

He hissed when he stepped into the warm water. “This is something I missed north of the Wall.” He sighed contently and lowered himself completely until his head disappeared beneath the surface to rinse his hair.

“I am still your Hand last I checked. The only one who can dismiss me is you, I guess.” Davos answered as soon as Jon’s head had emerged again. 

Jon used both hands to brush his wet locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears. “Then you owe your allegiance to me first and not to Ser Gerold. What is going on with the Lord Commander? Has he disrespected or mistreated any of my Kingsguards? “ 

“Not that I am aware of. He is just following your instructions, I presume.” Davos looked puzzled now.

“Then you presume wrong. Ser Oswell has been acting shy towards me lately. I had noticed before but hadn’t given it much thought. But just now on the docks, they were all behaving rather strange.”

“Strange how, Jon?” Davos’ tone sounded slightly admonishing. “Strange as in being a bit less forward and acting more like the Kingsguards of a True King should?”

Jon turned his face abruptly towards Davos. “Is that what is going on here? Do you really believe _**I**_ ordered them to be more circumspect and to treat me like a stuck up royal? They kept several feet away from me, Davos. Not a single hug, nor a handshake, not even a friendly pat on my shoulder. I felt like … They all treated me like I had some contagious disease.”

“Then you deny you had a talk about the new structure of the Royal Guard with Ser Gerold? Three divisions, ring a bell?” Davos probed him gently.

“I did. But I also mentioned the three of them would always have a double role, being loyal advisors and ambassadors to me as well. Ser Barristan, I had hoped would accept a position as leader of the Dragonguard so he could keep protecting Dany and hire as many guards a she deemed fit to make his task lighter.”

“Then I think there is some sort of misunderstanding between you and Ser Gerold. Add to that the fact that you are practically King, I reckon Ser Gerold has insisted on a stiffer protocol.”

“I didn’t like it one bit. I return from a war unlike any I have ever heard of. I have faced a scary mystical enemy and was nearly killed several times over. Only to come here and not even get a hug from men I consider almost a close as kin. Men who have been with me and cared for me before I was even born!” Jon’s emotions had risen with each word he had uttered. He deflated and looked dejectedly at Davos Seaworth. 

“Ser Arthur, he was one of my dearest friends and he just, he just stood there.”

“He still is your friend. Come now, son. Like I said, this is all a big misunderstanding. Might I ask about those several instances you nearly lost your life, or should I let it rest for a bit?”

“Not you too, Davos.” Jon complained.

“Jon?” Davos for once didn’t understand what Jon was getting at.

“Don’t become all deferential and scared to displease me. Not you too. Just ask if you want to know something.” Jon explained.

A knock on the door prevented Davos from responding.

“Is now a convenient time to look at the Prince’s wound?” Maester Pylos entered hesitantly.

“Thank you Maester, enter please. I will be ready in a moment. Jon stood and clumsily climbed out of the bathtub.”

“Normally I would not advise to weaken a fresh wound by soaking it too long in hot water, my Prince.” The Maester remarked in a deferential tone.

“Normally?” Jon snapped losing his patience. “And advising me against doing something is not normal?”

“Forgive our Prince,” Davos tried to defuse the situation. “He has had some disappointing encounters since arriving home.”

Jon calmed down when he saw the effect his outburst had on the young Maester. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Maester Pylos. Please treat me as you would any other patient.” 

“Then I would strongly advise my patient that he leans his right leg over the bathtub next time he intends to enjoy the comfort of a warm bath, my Prince, and that he do so at the very least for the next sennight or so.” The young Maester had regained his composure quickly. 

Jon studied the man he had not given a real chance the previous times he had resided on the island. He had been favouring Sam’s advice and services above the Maester’s. Also they had wanted to keep his birthright a secret from him until they knew him better. Sam however vouched for the Maester and tomorrow everything would be out in the open anyway.

“Thank you, Maester Pylos. That is an acceptable compromise. I will keep my thigh mostly out of the water next time I bathe.” He had dried himself off and quickly put on some smallclothes. He sat down on the only seat left in the room and stretched his injured leg. 

“Now tell me, Maester Pylos, how do you rate the treatment I received north of the Wall. And please hold nothing back. I want your honest opinion.”

Maester Pylos knelt next to Jon’s thigh and dabbed at the wound with a dry cloth. Then he studied the sutures. “Excellent work, my Prince. I couldn’t have done it better myself. Eastwatch must have a really experienced Maester. I seldom saw such even stitches and healthy looking wound after such a nasty cut. You will have a scar on your leg but it won’t be an ugly one.”

“No Maester sutured this wound, Maester Pylos. A healer of the Free Folk, you know them as Wildlings, treated it. He scolded me for not coming sooner, never mind me being a Prince. And if we talk experience, I reckon he has had a lot of opportunity to practice sewing wounds north of the Wall. The Free Folk have a rough life beyond the Wall and injuries in need of sewing occur rather often over there.”

“I am rather surprised to hear a simple healer without training at the Citadel is capable of such a feat but the evidence is here right in front of me. Perhaps one day, you will tell me more about these people?” While he spoke, the Maester was rummaging in the bag he brought with him and took out a small jar. 

“If I ever spend enough time on Dragonstone, I will certainly oblige you. If not, ask Sam Tarly. I told him plenty about them already.” Jon answered, studying every action of the Maester with interest.

Jon turned to his Hand. “Davos, where is Sam?”

“In the library probably with his nose deep in some book or scroll. Nobody will have told him of your arrival yet. I’ll fetch him so you won’t have to travel the stairs.”

“Maester Pylos?” Jon switched his attention back to the Maester. “Can you tell me if the cut is still in danger of reopening? Should I really avoid stairs and limit my movements so drastically?”

“That depends,” the Maester was still sat on his knees next to Jon’s thigh and looked up at the Targaryen Prince. “If you want to heal fast and be able to resume your training soon, I would caution you and advise you to rest a few days longer. A wound like this is always in danger of reopening the first sennight, more so after the tissue has been weakened by soaking in hot water.”

“Thank you Maester. So if I am a good boy and do as I am told, when can I resume training?” Jon was starting to like this Maester.

“Light training next sennight. I trust you are wise enough to listen to your body and not to overextend yourself. You will be best placed to feel when you need to stop. Don’t bend your leg too far when you feel the wound is resisting the stretch. If you can keep the cut from reopening you will be as good as new in a fortnight. On the other hand, if you overdo it and it reopens, you will be right back to where you started the day you got wounded.”

“These are clear directives, Maester Pylos. I will do my utmost to let it heal then.” Jon gave the Maester a nod of approval.

“Thank you, my Prince. Now let me rub this substance carefully in the wound to prevent it from getting inflamed. I would prefer to delay for a bit before covering it with a clean bandage though. Would it be possible to wait a bit longer before you leave this room? I’d prefer it if you did not put on your breeches just yet. It is preferable to give the wound a chance to dry out first. It won’t take that long and will speed up the healing process.”

“The room next door has been transformed into temporary quarters for you, my Prince. It contains a bed, a desk and a few chairs.” Davos’ suggestion was clear.

“Then meet me there after the appropriate time has passed, Maester Pylos. I am grateful for your excellent care.” Jon showed his appreciation with an honest open smile.

“I am at your service, my Prince. I’ll pass by the library and let Lord Tarly know where to find you.” The Maester bowed and left the room.

Davos studied Jon. “Now put these clothes on, son. I know they are not what you are accustomed to but I fear you will need to get used to dressing the part.”

Not long after Jon was installed in a cosy chair in the makeshift bedchamber his injured leg resting on a stool. To get there, he had leaned on Davos’ shoulder careful not to strain his leg. The promise of a light training session in a mere sennight had been enough inducement to take it easy for now.

“Now Davos, tell me the particulars. Your message has made me very curious.”

 

***

 

“Sam, come on in.” Jon answered the tentative knock on the door of his temporary quarters. 

He sat on the bed his legs stretched out before him. He had a thick scroll in one hand and his free arm tugged around Dany who was helping him sort out all the scrolls that had arrived at Dragonstone while he was in the North. His thigh had been bandaged and he was wearing his breeches. Davos had prevented the Princess from entering until Jon had been _‘suitably attired’_ as he had called it. She had been obliged to wait in the hallway while the Maester had been fetched to wrap his thigh in clean bandages.

All ill will Jon might have felt for Davos had quickly dissipated when his Hand had left the two of them alone despite just having handed him a bundle of messages to read through together. He had left the door slightly ajar, teasingly warning Jon and the Princess to behave.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you two.” Sam blushed. 

Jon easily understood his friend’s embarrassment. Dany still was slightly out of breath. Her cheeks and lips were very red and her hair was not as neat as it had been when she had entered the room. He tried to act normal and gave Dany a light peck on her cheek.

“You’re not really disturbing, Sam. We managed to get some private time in already. Dany was just saying she needed to leave soon to confer with the cook about supper and change her dress. I expect Davos to come back anytime now anyway.

Dany blushed becomingly and he gave her a quick closemouthed kiss and then playfully pushed her off the bed. “We’ll see each other at supper and after as well.” Jon promised her.

Dany smiled and blew him a kiss from the doorway. “See you Sam, Aegon.” She slipped past Sam and disappeared in the hallway closing the door behind her. 

“Interesting room.” Sam looked around from where he stood still close to the doorway. “I thought this was a storage room.”

“Well it is my bedroom now, at least for as long as I am forbidden to climb the stairs. Just sit on the bed with me here. I am in need of a hug from my friend.”

Sam didn’t let him ask twice. He smothered Jon within an inch of his life. “I’m glad you are well, Jon. Davos told me you briefly mentioned you had a hard time beyond the Wall?”

Jon rearranged the messages on the bed so there was room for Sam to join him.   
“I will have nightmares for years to come. But I also made friends for life.” He finally answered Sam’s question. “But let’s discuss that some other time. How are things here?” Jon looked at his friend who looked fitter than ever before.

“Things are good, I guess. I never had as much time for reading and writing as I have had here. And I am getting better with my sword. Ser Arthur says I am finally getting a grasp on things.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. Are you coming along tomorrow? Ser Gerold still has to brief me on the particulars.” Jon’s tone had changed slightly when he mentioned Ser Gerold’s name.

Sam studied him thoughtfully. “I am. They think I will look harmless enough. I thought you would be more excited, Jon?” 

“I am, Sam. I can’t fathom the moment is finally there. It still seems like I will wake up and it is all a dream.” 

“Then you better read the message from Lord Stark again.” Sam looked at the stash of messages on the bed.

“I was just reading the first part and then Dany entered and we, well we uh,” Jon looked a bit embarrassed and opted not to finish that sentence. “Davos told me the gist of what it contained already. It is a truly unexpected turn of events.”

“Well, you better read it in its entirety first. Dany must be flattered that you interrupted reading one of the most important scrolls in your entire life and I mean your entire life including your future, just to give her a kiss or something.” Now both men avoided each other’s gaze.

Sam tapped the scroll in question and stayed silent while Jon read its entire content. Not long after, Jon put the scroll down and looked at Sam who had been studying his reactions the entire time.

“You were right. I had to read it myself. Hearing Davos summarize the content isn’t the same as reading it. It is hard to fathom. All these various outcomes we have been preparing for, this one was not even on the list.”

“You will believe it tomorrow when you see it play out with your own eyes.” Sam smiled.

“And hopefully I will still be able to hear it with my own ears as well.” Jon’s expression sobered a little.

Again neither of them spoke for a while. Jon figured they were both contemplating the events that would transpire the next day. Then Jon’s gaze fell on the locked door. He turned his head and looked at Sam a serious expression on his face.

“Sam, when you came in just now, was there a guard stationed at my door?”

His question surprised Sam. His friend turned to look at the door as well. “Of course, two actually, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell.”

“And how did they behave?” 

Sam looked really puzzled now. “What do you mean? They behaved as they always do. They greeted me cordially and let me enter.”

Jon got up from the bed and hobbled to the door. “Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, would you step inside for a moment please?”

Both knights complied immediately. 

“Please shut the door.” Jon requested. “I want to talk to you both.”

“My Prince,” Ser Arthur turned to Jon the moment the door fell shut. “We’re so relieved, grateful and happy you returned safe and sound.”

“Are you?” Jon looked dubious. “You could have fooled me earlier out there on the docks”.

“Dammit.” Ser Arthur exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you we hurt his feelings?” He exchanged a meaningful glance with Ser Oswell before he took two steps and enclosed Jon in an embrace that lasted for some time.

“We were so worried. A host of fifty thousand strong.” Ser Arthur mumbled against Jon’s hair. “I’m so glad your back, Jon. Never doubt that we love you.”

“Ser Oswell?” Jon looked at the other knight, his eyes moist. Ser Arthur released Jon and pushed him gently in Ser Oswell’s direction who embraced him as well.

“My Prince, how could you doubt our loyalty and affection? You must understand. We were in public on the docks. Anyone could have witnessed our greeting. We are first and foremost your Kingsguards.”

“Anyone on the docks?” Jon repeated incredulously when Ser Oswell had released him. “Anyone on the docks is a Targaryen supporter and has probably shared a meal with me sitting unceremoniously on the sand near a bonfire. Are you kidding me?”

“My Prince, … Jon,” Ser Arthur tried to take his hand to calm him down but Jon put it behind his back.

He looked accusingly at his two loyal guards. “You can’t begin to imagine how I felt. I barely manage to come back alive from a massive battle and you, you two who helped me blow my nose when I was a toddler, you stand there and execute a formal bow because we are on the docks of our very own private island?”

“Jon, breathe.” Sam rubbed his back. “Come on, Jon. Don’t you see they were under orders? Ser Gerold briefed us all on how to behave in public from now on. You are Prince Aegon Targaryen and tomorrow the official King of the Seven Kingdoms. There is a protocol to respect. Even you with all your liberal thinking can’t escape that.”

“Ser Gerold briefed all of you? Dany as well? What does she need to do? Prostrate herself at my feet?” Jon shook his head. “I don’t believe this. I really don’t believe this.”

“Jon,” Ser Arthur looked at him willing him to understand. “We are still the same, you, me, Ser Oswell, all of us. We are still the same people and you can trust us and treat us as you wish here in your chambers, away from prying eyes. But in public, and certainly in the Red Keep when you hold court, things will have to be different.”

“I know that. Of course I understand that. In the Red Keep, once I am King. But not now, not here today, not earlier when I just returned from a terrifying battle and was so happy to be safely back home, with my friends, safe on Dragonstone that is firmly in Targaryen hands again. I am still the Prince of Dragonstone, just the same as I was when I left. It is not tomorrow yet nor are we at the Red Keep.”

Ser Arthur put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “You will always be our Prince, our King, our Jon. We’ll need to confer with Ser Gerold again. Perhaps we can define public and private a little bit better.”

“I hope so. If not, I do not know if I can keep you on as Kingsguard, Ser Arthur. I might ask you to become my second Hand or something.”

“Even your Hand will have to adhere to protocol.” Sam cautioned him. “Davos won’t embrace you in public nor will he be allowed to contradict anything you say in the presence of others. And you better make him a Lord at the first opportunity. Otherwise he will have trouble exercising his authority when he deals with stuck up nobles.”

Jon sighed. “Perhaps I should just forget about this King of all Westeros business. I will take Dany and move to my Grandmother at the Driftmark. Farm the land, earn an honest living,” he muttered as if to himself.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Jon.” Sam once again was the voice of reason. “Dany will probably be waiting for you in the Throne Room where we will partake our meal. I believe she invited many guests to celebrate your return. Leave these messages for later. You read the singular most important one anyway. Go and enjoy the feast the Princess has organised for your homecoming. This might be your last supper on Dragonstone for some time.”

 

***

 

**Approximately a sennight earlier in the Red Keep.**

 

“How is Robert Baratheon?” Prince Oberyn asked Varys. 

“Good day to you too, Prince Oberyn.” Varys responded and seated himself on a modest chair in the small backroom of Tobho Mott’s workshop.

“I bid you welcome, my dear Master of Whispers,” Oberyn made an exaggerated bow and sat back down. “Now tell me, how is Robert Baratheon doing?”

“He needs bedrest but will recover. Our flawless plan to have Maester Pycelle indisposed backfired. We should have let the incompetent fool treat him. Instead Thoros of Myr sought the help of a capable healer and together they did a damn fine job of patching the King up. For the moment it looks like his nasty abdominal wound will not be fatal. That is as long as the stitches hold and no body waste can leak out and infect him from the inside. I am verbally recounting what the healer explained to me. I am not a Maester.”

“That’s too bad. When I heard of the extent of his injuries, I surely thought we had succeeded.” Prince Oberyn frowned. A long time ago he had been present during an autopsy at the Citadel and had learned all about the digestive tract and the small and large intestines. When he had been given the news that Robert Baratheon’s intestines had been visible, he had been sure that the usurper had been dead meat.

“Don’t worry. I still have not played all my cards yet.” Varys reassured his co-conspirator. “He will recuperate only if he rests, doesn’t get drunk and avoids all stress. He is bedridden and totally at our mercy.”

“Let me know if you need my assistance. I can procure you anything you wish.” Prince Oberyn offered already debating what poison would work best in these circumstances.

“That will not be necessary. I have another plan in mind, a safe one that will never implicate any of us. You know our most important directive. The young Prince must never suspect foul play and to accomplish that, we must make it look as if King Robert is solely responsible for his own demise.”

“A stupid drunk King who gets himself accidentally killed during a boar hunt was a genius plan.” Prince Oberyn pouted. “And the potion he took wasn’t detectable since it was no real potion, only a strong concentration of the substance that makes men drunk. My man told me it was not easy getting the boar to set off in the right direction once the oaf had fallen of his horse.”

“I readily concede that it was an excellent plan. But trust me. What I have in mind will make him look even more stupid. History books won’t be kind to the Baratheon usurper who leaves no heirs and no legacy to speak of.”

 

***

 

“Your Grace, you summoned me?” Varys made a low bow. He had entered the royal bedroom and had positioned himself at the foot of the large bed.

“I did, Lord Varys. Please sit down. We have several things to discuss.”

Varys took a seat in one of the cozy chairs that stood next to the bed. He studied the King unobtrusively. His complexion had regained colour and his eyes looked sharp. His medicine had probably worn off. Varys knew he would need a new dosage shortly before his next meal. For now Varys would need to remain alert. The King’s mind was clear for the moment and the man was no fool if he made an effort.

“First of all, did you find out who sent those archers that twice tried to kill me? I am at the mercy of assassins here, you know.” Unlike his improved demeanour, Robert Baratheon’s voice sounded awful. 

“I think so, your Grace. They had ties to the Stormlands so we now suspect your brother sent them. I have several little birds trying to find out more over there.” Lord Varys lied with a straight face. This tale would have a larger impact on the peace of mind of the Baratheon King than the truth, namely that it had most likely been Doran of House Martell who had sent these men. Now the whoring fool would once more be confronted with the fact that he had no trueborn heirs and that his brother, Prince Stannis had stooped even lower than he already knew.

Prince Oberyn had asked Varys to conceal his suspicions for now, fearing that his position here in King’s Landing could be in jeopardy if the King decided to punish Dorne. The Prince had no intention of ending up a hostage of the usurper King to keep his brother in line. The Master of Whispers had only been too willing to help out. 

Varys realised all too well that the Dornish Prince needed his freedom to deal with his deranged brother. Prince Doran’s attempt to marry Arianne to the Baratheon he could understand. Murdering the current King without a proper plan in place was sheer madness. It would play into the hands of all the other Kingdoms who were vying for the throne. Dorne would not be the only one to benefit but they would be the only Kingdom running the risk of being exposed as traitors to the Crown. 

You could only murder the Baratheon King and get away with it if your plan to take the throne was totally ready and could be executed mere days after Baratheon’s demise, kind of like their own plan. Hopefully Prince Oberyn’s daughter, Nymeria had successfully laid the foundation for her father’s scheme. If so, then soon the ruling Prince of Dorne would be utterly powerless. Robert Baratheon’s hoarse voice brought Varys’ attention back to the present. 

“Thank you Lord Varys. No need to investigate further. My brother’s life is forfeit. He already committed enough other crimes to justify his execution. Let’s concentrate on the second reason I summoned you here.” Robert Baratheon needed to stop talking due to a coughing fit.

Lord Varys handed him the cup of water that stood on a nearby table. 

“My stomach hurts when I cough.” Robert Baratheon whined after he had taken a few sips. “The Gods are really cruel to me. Lately I wonder what I have done for them to punish me so. “ Robert sighed and leaned back against the furs. 

_‘Condoning the killing of innocent children because they bear the name of House Targaryen.’_ The bitter thought flitted through Varys’ mind. Back then, they had all been so happy when Princess Elia had given birth to a little prince.

“You were saying, your Grace?” Varys was a master at disguising his thoughts. Nobody following this conversation and witnessing his respectful, subservient behaviour would suspect the dark thoughts and schemes that crossed the mind of the Master of Whispers when he looked down at the King he pretended to serve.

“More rumours reached my ears and I would like to discuss them with you.” Robert Baratheon’s voice sounded a bit better. The King’s intonation betrayed that he didn’t like what he had picked up.

“Of course, your Grace. Just tell me how I can be of service to you.” Varys had a very good notion of these rumours. He had spared no efforts for the fool to get wind of them even if the King had been sequestered to a bedroom for days now.

“Can you move a bit closer? I do not wish to speak too loud. You never know who is listening in. I can’t trust anyone in this cursed place.”

Varys arranged his chair closer to the bed and leaned forward. His voice was hardly more than a whisper when he spoke next. “You know you can trust me, your Grace.”

Baratheon nodded. “The rumours have started again, rumours about the Dragonrider and how my own Hand is implicated.” The King complained. He waved with his hand to stop the Master of Whispers from responding.

“I know you told me not to doubt him before we had proof. You said to speak honestly and give him the benefit of the doubt and I did. At first I believed him but you see, he has returned to his former behaviour. He doesn’t look me in the eye and looks guilty more often than not. And it is not about the subject of my prospective bride that Ned acts skittish, it has to do with the dragonrider. I am not a fool, Varys. He knows something. I am starting to believe the rumours. It might be true that the dragonrider is his kin after all.”

“I’m afraid you might be on the right track, your Grace. I have gathered reports from several eye witnesses who claim to have seen the dragonrider with their own eyes. They all tell the same story. He looks like a Stark. One man claims he knew Eddard Stark when he was young and swears the dragonrider is his spitting image. His exact words were and I quote _The Dragonrider is more of a Stark than Lord Robb.”_

“Have you learned more about the rumours of Robb Stark’s supposed kidnapping?”

“That really happened. Robb Stark was indeed abducted by the Boltons and held prisoner at the Dreadfort. Loyal bannerman laid siege to the castle. It is confirmed now that it truly was the Dragonrider that came to his rescue and freed the heir of House Stark with the assistance of several northern Lords. I have eye witnesses who claimed they were present when in the aftermath of the rescue the Lords of the North feasted in the Great Hall of the Dreadfort and shared meat and mead with the Dragonrider. They were heard toasting to his health.”

“Dammit, Ned. This is proof indeed. Now my Hand can’t deny that the dragonrider is an ally of the North.” Robert Baratheon closed his eyes for a moment.

“It gets worse, your Grace.” Varys whispered leaning a tiny bit closer to the man on the bed and waited for him to open his eyes again.

“Worse, how can it possibly get any worse? You just confirmed my Hand is a traitor to the Crown.” Robert Baratheon had opened his eyes again. The famed Baratheon blue eyes had lost all of their charm for the moment, expressing only utter despair at being surrounded by traitors from all sides.

“It seems that the North and the Iron Islands are allies. The Dragonrider and the Golden Company helped Yara Greyjoy regain control of her father’s seat. The Dragonrider might very well be the leader of the Golden Company. Although I must confess this conclusion might be a bit hasty since that rumour has not been confirmed yet.”

What are you planning, Ned?” Robert Baratheon exclaimed his face growing warmer from anger and frustration. “Do you think he wants to betray me? Steel my throne now that I am lying here helplessly?” His eyes looked up to Varys as if the man was his only anchor.

It was very rewarding for Varys to see how much faith Robert Baratheon still had in him. He was not only a Master of Whispers, but also a master at deception, at scheming and at conspiring against the Crown. If not for him, his dear Targaryen Prince’s head would have rotted away mounted on one of the spikes that adorned the walls of the Red Keep a long time ago. It was time to manipulate the fool some more and win valuable time.

“Lord Stark still adheres to a certain code of honour, your Grace. He would never hurt a man that is defenseless. Besides, the dragonrider has been spotted beyond the Wall again. He is no threat to your rule anytime soon. They say he lives amongst the Wildlings. Let me investigate some more and find irrefutable proof of your Hand’s implication first. We still do not know his exact relationship to the Dragonrider.” 

Varys’ keen eyes noticed he had Baratheon hooked and in a manner of speaking, he used his last cyvasse piece that could cause chaos. Prince Oberyn had been the one to persuade him to use that argument again if circumstance called for it. 

“I sincerely doubt Lord Stark could steal the throne from a wounded man. And certainly not for himself, the man has too little ambition. My honour compels me to point out that there still is a sliver of doubt whether Lord Stark is in on all this. For all we know the Dragonrider might be a byblow of Brandon Stark, a bastard that threatens to take Winterfell away from the Starks and therefore is an enemy of your Lord Hand. It is not totally impossible that the Lords of the North are scheming with the Dragonrider to remove Ned Stark from power. Many men still resent the fact that he married a Southerner.”

“Dammit, Varys! Can’t you for once do your job and come with answers instead of more doubts and questions. Now you have me believe Ned is a victim of this Dragonrider.” Robert Baratheon exasperated protest ended in a coughing fit.

Once more Varys handed him the cup of water and helped him drink a few sips. “Your Grace, please do not get all worked up. Think of what the healer said. Another sennight of bedrest and you will have recovered fully. You have been very lucky, your Grace. And I can see your health has improved very much already. Don’t do something stupid now that you are getting better.”

“Only a few more days, the healer promised. I really want to leave this bed. I am indeed feeling a lot better. The healer is overly cautious. And I am so much looking forward to the tournament. I don’t want to miss it.” The King sounded like a petulant child now.

“The tournament has been pushed back until your Grace is sufficiently recovered. The pre-tournament is taking place as we speak. The main event will start as soon as it pleases your Grace.”

“Lord Royce is still in the capital?” Robert Baratheon asked.

“Of course, your Grace. He has not left the Red Keep and enquires after your health several times a day. He feels utterly guilty for what happened during the hunt.”

“Nonsense. I enjoyed his company that day, just as I did the previous times. He is not to blame. I told him so already. He was checking out some tracks a stag left behind when that cursed boar came out of nowhere. Summon him to my quarters this afternoon. I will engage him in a game of cyvasse. If he really feels that guilty, he can let me win some golden stags off of him.”

A bit later Varys left the King’s room satisfied with the effect of his words. Now he just needed to find the King’s young paramour and send her to his room tomorrow night. He would make sure she wore a seductive outfit and carried a large pitcher of wine.

 

***

 

**Two days later**

Ned knelt beside the bed of his friend. Whatever had happened over the years, the Robert that lay in this stately bed was still the person who had once been the very best friend he had ever had. His relationship with Robert Baratheon had at one point been much closer than the bond he had had with his own siblings. Later on, his relationship with Benjen had improved not only because Benjen had grown up by then but also because of their mutual care for their only nephew. But still he had never lived so closely together with Benjen as he had with Robert. 

Robert and he had shared a bedchamber often even though they each had been allotted their own quarters. They had been inseparable when they were both fostered at the Vale, sharing lessons, training sessions, playtime and nightly talks for years. Reaching adulthood, they had fought battles side by side and their bond had still deepened until that fateful day when Ned had been confronted with a gleeful Robert boasting about the death of the Targaryen children and their mother.

“What have you done to yourself, Robert?” Ned’s voice shook with unshed tears when he uttered the words.

“Stupid.” Robert uttered. “Just been utterly stupid. Did not to listen to the healer’s advice.”

“When have you ever? How long do you still have?” Ned asked his voice barely more than a whisper.

“A sennight, ten days at best before my body poisons itself and I will beg for milk of the poppy to be put to sleep, never to wake up again.” Robert sighed. “It was my own doing, Ned.” He coughed. “You remember how I always told you I wanted to die?”

“I remember. _Shooting a boar and fucking a woman afterward, there’s no better way to leave this world”_ Ned tried to keep his voice light. “You forgot one detail though. You were supposed to be old and grey when you did that.”

“Well, fate has decided otherwise.”

Both men gazed at each other. Ned wondered why Robert had taken such a risk with his life. Things had been a rollercoaster lately. Ever since Littlefinger’s trial they had been growing closer together. Just when he thought Robert trusted him completely, Ned’s conscience began to trouble him again, certainly when his former friend showed signs of becoming a competent King. But then the situation had changed again, this time for the worse. For some unknown reason, Robert had started to suspect him once more and had slowly reverted back to drinking and whoring. 

The stupid fool had even drunk himself into a stupor in the midst of a boar hunt and according to Yohn Royce had been so out of it that he had fallen of his horse and had been an easy prey for the wild animal that had happened upon him. Robert had been brought back to the Keep on a stretcher, sporting a nasty abdominal wound. Apparently the boar’s protruding canine teeth had made a large tear in his stomach. 

The healer had done all he could to clean and close the wound. The King had been lucky but had needed to keep to his bed and had not been allowed to sit upright. He had been warned several times. Should the wound reopen, it could tear things under his skin as well. When that happened, his body would poison itself from the inside out and his chances at survival would become non-existent.

And just when the entire keep had been apprised that the King would recover, Robert had pulled another stupid stunt. Yesterday evening he had drunk an entire pitcher or wine and had bedded his paramour. Against all advice he had let her mount him and fuck him into oblivion. In the middle of the act, just when he was about to reach his peak, he had suffered a kind of fit. A large part of the castle had been alerted when the young girl had panicked and ran across the hallways scarcely clothed and desperately screaming for help.

According to the healer that had been summoned once more when Grand Maester Pycelle had been found abed with a fever, the King’s body had suffered a shock of some kind. They had been able to stop the seizures that racked his body by forcefully pouring milk of the poppy down his throat. Ever since, he had lost some of the function in his left arm and leg and sometimes his speech became slightly impaired. The healer had reluctantly told them the sutures had ruptured and that body waste was slowly seeping into his abdomen. His Grace would not recover. He would not live to see the next fortnight, perhaps not even the next sennight. For now the healer had been sworn to secrecy. Only Varys, Ned and the King himself had been informed.

Ned had tried to locate the girl to find out what had really happened. Perhaps Robert had told her something that would help them understand why he had acted so recklessly. But she was nowhere to be found. That poor girl probably thought she might get arrested for putting the King in harm’s way. Since she hadn’t been discovered yet, Ned was sure that they would never see the girl again. She could well be on her way to Essos by now

“Why, Robert? Why did you do this? Why risk your health in such a stupid way?” Ned asked. He had pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down holding Robert’s limp left hand in his. They were alone in the room. Ned had dismissed all the servants. A Stark guard at the other side of the door would see to it that Ned could pay his respects to his dying King unhindered.

Robert looked at his friend. His blue Baratheon eyes betrayed how much pain he was in. “I am not long for this world Ned. I am in your con- control now. You can keep me a virtual prisoner. You can-can prevent me from speaking to anyone, from denouncing you for the traitor that you are. I want to hear the truth from your mouth. What happens after I am dead?”

“Robert?” Ned had paled visibly.

“No more evading, Ned. I was told with absolute certainty that you are a traitor and have someone up in the No-north ready to usurp my throne. Who will sit the Iron Throne once I am dead? The Dragonrider? Or some puppet you trained so you can-can rule by proxy? For the sake of our … friendship, you owe a dying foster-brother at least that. I want the truth.”

Ned bowed his head. His mind was frantically trying to come up with the best way to handle this situation. 

“Ned, the truth, please?” 

Ned lifted his head and his eyes met Robert’s pleading stare. He decided to give in. What did it still matter? He leaned a bit closer and whispered, “Lyanna’s son, my nephew, Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Robert closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. “Lyanna had a son? With Rhaegar? That ca-can’t be possible.” 

“You would recognise him the moment you saw him.” Ned now looked at his friend, the fond look in his eyes unmistakably visible despite the unshed tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.   
“He is the spitting image of her, more Stark than Targaryen. His has dark hair, with curls just as her hair would curl when she walked through the rain not caring about her appearance. Remember?”

With a faraway look in his eyes, Robert nodded to Ned. “I do. Tell me more.”

“He is intelligent, strong, an excellent swordfighter. He can beat Prince Oberyn, would you believe that? He even beat …” Ned held his breath and looked guilty.

“Just tell me Ned, the time for lies is past.” Robert looked resigned and eerily calm.

“He can even beat the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.” Ned looked apprehensively at his friend.

“Those three Ki-Ki-Kingsguards, they live? You knew all this time?” Robert asked when he saw his friend nod affirmatively

“I am sorry, Robert. I did. I encountered them when I searched for my sister in the South after the Rebellion. She did die from a fever as I told you. Only it was child bed fever that she contracted after she gave birth to a son.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would never have harmed Lyanna’s son. I loved her.” Robert sounded sincere when he said that.

“I didn’t know that, Robert. To tell you the truth, I don’t believe that. Not at the time, perhaps now, but not at the time. You would have called him a dragonspawn. You would have declared him a product of rape. He was Lyanna’s son but he was also a Targaryen Prince. Technically, that small baby boy was the true King of the Seven Kingdoms from the very moment he drew his first breath. My little nephew was a threat to your new reign. With his father and grandfather deceased, he was the only one left to inherit the Iron Throne.”

“Still,…” Robert’s protest sounded weak.

“Lyanna asked me to protect him, Robert. With her dying breath she asked me to vow that I would protect her son, that I would keep him safe from you. I have honoured her vow, Robert. Everything I have done, every deed you consider treason, I did because I promised Lyanna.”

Tears rolled over Robert’s cheeks now. “She feared me. She died thinking I would harm her only son. The last thing left alive of her in this world. I would never, I cou-could never …”

“You say that now Robert and perhaps you mean that now. You wouldn’t have then. In any case I couldn’t take the risk. I love him, we all love him.”

“What happens now, Ned?” Robert had leaned back and was staring at Ned as if seeing him for the first time.

“He takes the throne after you are no longer. He has the support of the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. Lord Tyrion of House Lannister will do as I ask. We hope that Dorne won’t pose a problem and the Reach, well the Reach will choose the winning side. Don’t they always? He will take your throne, Robert. Stannis might try something but he won’t stand a chance. We outnumber him on the ground as well as at sea. And my nephew, he has two dragons, Robert.”

“Dragons.” The word was spoken half in wonderment half in fear. “I once dreamt I had a dragon. Aren’t you sca-scared of them though?”

“I am not. You should see him with them. They are totally subservient to him. And he is no wild, mad Targaryen, Robert. I told you, he is all Lyanna. Only the fact that she is a female makes it so that he doesn’t carry the Stark name. He is more Stark than I am. He carries the values of our house within him. But even if he is at least as honourable as I am, he is more balanced. He will be no puppet of mine. Hells, he will command me. He already has at several instances.” 

Ned still on his knees before the bed put his hand on top of Robert’s. “I know I am often too rigid, and only see right or wrong. My nephew, a young man of more than half my age has already proven himself to be wiser than me. He considers all sides in a conflict and tries to determine his opponent’s motives. He understands better than I that they often have the best intention even though they choose the wrong way to go about achieving their goals.”

Ned swallowed and looked deep into his friend’s blue eyes willing him to understand. “Can you believe he has called me out on some mistakes I made and did it in such a way that I not only had to admit I was wrong but that I apologised wholeheartedly and meant it? I kneel to him wholeheartedly, Robert. He will be the best ruler the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. If you believe anything I told you here today, believe that.”

“I want to see him, Ned. I want to see Lyanna’s son with my own eyes at least once before I die.” The King put his other hand on top of Ned’s to lend extra weight to his request.

“Robert, I do not know …” Ned’s voice faltered and he looked away hiding the sudden mistrust that surely hat to be visible on his face. He carefully freed his hand and put it back in his lap.

“Grant me this dying wish. I want to look at his face and search for Lyanna in him. I want him to fo-forgive me for what I did to his half-brother and sister.” Robert didn’t give up so quickly.

“Robert, I will not risk him. Not after all these years of keeping him safe from you.” Ned had forced a blank expression on his face and studied the man on the bed, trying to determine his true intentions.

“I will not harm him, Ned. I just want to see him. Draft a document for me right this minute, a royal decree in which I state formally that I abdicate the throne effective immediately in favour of him. You can add the necessary names, titles, you know them better than I do by now.”

“It will make no difference. Stannis will say you were not in your right mind when you made this decision.” Ned protested.

“It will make a difference to Lyanna’s son, Ned. If he truly is who you say he is, it will make a substantial di-difference to him. He will know that he did not usurp my throne but that I willingly abdicated in his favour. Think of Lyanna’s son, Ned. It will mean the world to him if I cou-could tell it to his face. Give me the opportunity to bless his reign. I will die in peace knowing that Lyanna’s son sits upon my throne without guilt or remorse. It is my dying wish, Ned. Grant me my dying wish.”

“Even if he agreed to come here, I am not sure he will get here in time. He is in the north, beyond the Wall.” Ned stalled for time.

“He has dragons, Ned. I am sure he can get to King’s Landing in no time. I am not dead yet. Write the damned do-document. I’ll sign it and then you summon him.” Even though Robert’s voice was weak, Ned could hear the determination and kingly authority in it.

“All right. Let’s do this.” Ned got up from the chair and slowly walked to the door to ask the Stark houseguard to fetch some writing materials. Perhaps Robert was right. It would be the best outcome for Jon’s peace of mind.

 

***

 

**A day later**

“The King asked to see me right away?” the Hand of the King repeated the message Cassel just brought him.

“He did, Lord Stark. He was most insistent. He ordered the servant who brought him his lunch to fetch you this very instant.”

“And nobody has been allowed entrance? You are sure he has not received any visitors.”

“Not since your last interview with him yesterday. Only his manservant and he can be trusted as you know full well, my Lord.”

Ned sighed. “This could not be good news. Perhaps Robert had second thoughts. Yesterday he had been emotional and had thought of nothing but Lyanna’s kinship with the young Targaryen. But now that he had been able to look at the situation from all angles he could very well be appalled that his own Hand had been plotting his downfall for the entire duration of his reign.

He rose from his seat with an uneasy feeling. “Then I better attend to his Grace.”

His heart beat loudly in his chest when he entered the sickroom. Robert immediately looked up and Ned could read nothing from the serious look in the King’s sunken eyes. Robert didn’t look healthy. His face was ashen, his brow was sweaty, dark locks were clinging to his forehead and his eyes were dulled with pain.

“Come sit, Ned. We need to talk. I have many questions.” His hand motioned to the chair that stood closest to his bedside.

Robert’s calm tone and demeanour put Ned at ease somewhat. Still he did not fool himself. This conversation would not be an easy one. 

“I am sure you have, Robert. What do you want to know?”

Robert didn’t beat about the bush and came straight to the point. “Why did you agree to let me take the throne in the first pluh-place?” 

Ned let out a breath. This was an easy question. “You won the battles and had the greater claim because of your Targaryen ancestor. I never wanted the throne for myself. You knew that to be true then and it is still true now. I didn’t know about Lyanna’s pregnancy back then, Robert. I found her approximately a moon after I left you on the Iron Throne at King’s Landing.”

“And then cu-cursed your stupidity for swearing allegiance to me.” Robert sounded bitter.

“It wasn’t like that, Robert. If you know me even a little bit, you can easily imagine that I have struggled with this tangled situation for years. You probably won’t believe me after all that has happened lately, but when I held that baby boy in my arms for the very first time, I felt such a fierce love for him and such an urge to protect him from all the war and hardships his legacy was sure to bestow on him if his existence was revealed to the realm. My first intention was to bring him home to Winterfell and tell my new bride I had a byblow. I was willing to forsake my honour, hurt my new bride and tell everybody that I sired a bastard during the rebellion. I wanted to raise him as my son, keep him in my sight and protect him with anonymity. I so much wanted to cling to the unrealistic hope that I would never have to reveal his true identity.”

“But you didn’t, Ned. You didn’t.” Robert stressed the obvious.

“His Kingsguards would never have let me raise their King as a bastard. We debated long and hard and eventually I saw reason. He was a King the moment he took his first breath. A bastard, even a bastard of a noble Lord would lead a harsh life. My wife would surely hate him. Even now she struggles with the fact that my nephew is more important than Robb, our firstborn.” 

Ned looked deep in the blue Baratheon eyes. “You must believe me, Robert. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Robert studied him for a moment a frown on his face. Then it disappeared. “Even though it is a tale that is rather hard to swallow, the honourable Ned would not lie about this. I believe you, Ned. Now tell me more. Where did he live if not at Winterfell? I want to hear all about the boy who is to take my throne away from me.”

Ned adjusted his position so he sat in a more relaxed manner and told Robert all about his nephew’s development from a small baby to an honourable man and renowned swordsmen who commands a direwolf as well as two dragons.”

It was much later when Ned fell silent. But this time it was a comfortable silence. Robert had mostly listened quietly only interrupting a few times to press for more details. The more amusing interruption had been when Ned had described to him how easily a young Prince Aegon had charmed Prince Oberyn.

“The Red Viper swore allegiance to him, you say? Tell me again how Lyanna’s son charmed him, Ned. And please more details. That is the best part of this entire business until now.”

 

***

 

Prince Oberyn had been waiting at the docks for their ship to arrive. Before anyone could assist him, the Dornish Prince had jumped on board and greeted everyone with a big smile.   
“Isn’t this a great day?” 

Ser Gerold led the Prince toward a larger cabin and there they discussed how they would proceed from here. Prince Oberyn reassured Ser Gerold at every turn. Yes, they had loyal men stationed throughout the city along the path they needed to travel to get to the Red Keep. Certainly, Lord Stark would smuggle them inside through a smaller side entrance and would have his houseguard with him. Of course the throne room would be filled with Targaryen loyalists. And yes, Ned Stark had indeed seen to it that every hallway was safe for the Prince to walk past. Even if Prince Oberyn rolled his eyes several times at the barrage of questions, he kept his composure and provided Ser Gerold with the necessary information.

Not long after, they disembarked dressed up as Stark men, Jon’s three Kingsguards as well. They had donned a closed helmet for the occasion. Lord Stark would send loyal servants to unload a large number of crates they had brought with them on the ship. Most of them were filled with Targaryen banners and the correct attire for his Kingsguards, houseguards and servants. Once Jon had met with Robert Baratheon things would change quickly. The people would believe the transition of power better if there were visual signs of House Targaryen’s presence all around the Red Keep and as soon as possible throughout the entire city as well. 

The plan was for Davos and Sam to disembark separately. They were dressed as normal inhabitants and would be able to navigate the streets without causing suspicion. Davos even predicted they would arrive first since two men could navigate the narrow streets easier than a mounted caravan.

The ship carrying Princess Daenerys and Ser Barristan would dock later that morning. She would join them as soon as they sent word that it was safe for her to enter the Red Keep. Dany and Jon had argued about it after supper, but Jon with the support of his Kingsguard had finally persuaded her to give in. She would at most be half a day behind them. 

His main argument had been that her safety was paramount to him and he would not be able to concentrate fully if he was consumed with worry about her. His Kingsguards were anxious enough about the fact that Jon wasn’t quick on his feet due to his wounded leg and would not be able to defend himself or run and hide fast enough if things went wrong. Although she had given in in front of Jon’s advisers she had joined him in his chambers afterwards and had not minced her words in private.

“Sit down Aegon and rest your leg. We need to talk and it won’t be a short conversation.” Her harsh tone had startled him.

“I thought you understood, that you agreed.” He had stammered while obeying her order and installing himself on his bed. He had tapped the spot beside him with pleading eyes.

Dany had ignored his inviting gesture and had removed Blackfyre from the chair next to his bed where he had just left it and had put the precious object on a small table instead. She had taken a seat, but had kept her back stiff. After she had carefully folded her hands in her lap, she had lifted her head and had fixed her stare on him, no longer concealing the anger she felt. He had admired how calm she explained herself despite her obvious frustration with his behaviour.

“I mostly agree with you that the war up North was men’s business and I would just have been a nuisance to you if I had come along. You certainly do not seem to realise how much I would have preferred to go with you. I am of the opinion that there would have been many things I could have helped you out with over there. But still, I get that you would have been worried for me in such a harsh environment facing an unpredictable enemy with superior numbers.”

She had cocked her head slightly and had continued. “But isn’t that the same for the loved ones who are left behind when men go to war? Did you once stop to think about how worried I was for your well-being and survival every single moment you were out there risking your life? Fool that I was, I convinced myself that next time when you faced some danger in the south you would let me help you. And I wouldn’t mind if my role then would be confined to caring for the wounded or arranging the logistics like food and shelter. I would be there with you and more importantly, I would know all the sooner whether you survived and were all right or not. But at the first opportunity here in the south, you intend to keep me away just the same.”

“I don’t.” Jon had only gotten two words out when he was silenced by her next words.

“You do keep me away, Aegon. You shelter me as if I was some slim,tall glass ornament that would topple over by the slightest draft in the room and would be irreparably damaged. What am I to you? You claim to love me but we hardly see each other. You are always flying off to deal with the next dire problem and don’t even bother explaining to me what is really going on. I must have dreamt that you were better than other men and treated women better than the average male. Reality teaches me otherwise. I had cherished the hope that we were going to be different from other couples, from other rulers. But now, I just don’t know what to think.”

Jon had closed his eyes at that point. He hadn’t been able to think clearly when she had looked so fierce and passionate about what she had been saying. He had willed himself to gather his wits so he could determine how much of what she had been telling him held true and how much had been twisted or exaggerated because she had only looked at it from her point of view. When she had stopped talking and he had slowly opened his eyes he had caught her wiping a single tear away that had escaped her eye. His heart had melted. He had longed to reach out and touch her hand but had decided against it. She probably would have considered it a patronizing gesture at this stage of their disagreement. He would have to try to convince her with words alone for now.

“Dany, we are going to be different. We just need time to find the best way to do that. We will learn together as we go along. I am the first one to agree that I haven’t given you enough time or attention but you must admit that circumstances have been dire lately. Will you believe me when I tell you that I have already made plans for things to change from now on?”

She had looked rather sceptical and had expressed that sentiment with her terse one word retort. “How?” 

Jon glad that she at least had seemed willing to hear him out, had taken his chance and had carefully considered each word he had uttered next.  
“I won’t pretend that I missed you every moment when I was in the North. Over the next days, I will try to relate to you in detail what happened over there so you can better understand my actions and thoughts these last few sennights. It will not be easy since it is a horrifying tale at times which can give the toughest man nightmares. For you however, I will try. I just need a bit more time and quiet to do so.” 

He had exhaled deeply and had stared at her with his honest dark Stark eyes, imploring her to believe his next words. “By the Gods I swear to you that I tell you the truth now when I say that in the very moment that I was almost defeated by a White Walker, it was the thought of never being able to hold you again, of never getting the chance to marry you and seeing your stomach swell with our child, that gave me the extra motivation and strength needed to turn the tide and survive that battle.”

His eyes had never left her face while he spoke and he had noticed her expression soften a bit. “In future we will travel together, we will rule together. But make no mistake, I will always try to shield you from harm. Not because I consider you a glass ornament but because I couldn’t bear losing you forever, Dany. Don’t hold that against me. And if you ever are to join me on a battlefield, it will be behind the frontlines with an entire regiment of Dragonguards there to protect you. You will have to accept that. I can’t act otherwise. In any other matter, you may always challenge me, order me to hear you out and treat you as an equal partner. You can even demand that I give precedence to your opinion over my own and I will promise to consider it. But never on a battlefield, Dany. Never on a battlefield.”

He had taken a few deep breaths to have a little time to mull over his next words. He had known that she would keep silent because he still hadn’t fully answered her question.  
“You ask me how things will be different? They will be different because I will make an effort to make time for you every day. No matter how busy our schedules are or how dire the issues we need to deal with during the day. And I say _we_ because you will be part of every meeting you choose to attend. But aside from seeing you in meetings, I promise you to make time for a private discussion with you at least once a day. You can berate me then, tell me what I am doing right, what I am doing wrong without the presence of witnesses and without me holding it against you. I make you the solemn vow to always hear you out and keep an open mind. And more importantly, I will always be honest when I answer you. But in turn I ask that you grant me the same courtesy. I need you to promise me to hear me out as well when I need to unburden or explain myself to you. But more importantly, I beseech you to give me honesty, always and in all matters.”

“Private time each day and absolute honesty, you promise?” She had leaned a bit forward when she had asked him that.

“I promise. And if there are things I can’t tell you about, I will explain to you why that is the case and you will have the absolute certainty that the reasons I give you are the honest to the Gods absolute truth. Can you promise me the same?”

She had looked at him then as if he she could truly see him for the very first time. Her purple eyes had once more freely expressed the love she felt for him and he had known at that exact moment that things would be alright. Theirs would be a marriage unlike any he had every witnessed. He might not be able to merge his mind with hers as he could with Rhaegal but they would not need to. They would achieve the same result with open, honest conversations. He would see to that. _They_ would see to that.

“I promise, Aegon. I promise you honesty and I will speak my mind freely even if it means making you angry with me. I hope you won’t come to regret granting me that and not treating me like many men that curb their wives’ tongues and consider them mere broodmares.”

Her soft voice had never sounded so sweet to him and he knew he had probably looked like a fool in love but hadn’t cared on bit. He had tapped the space on the bed next to him once more. “Then won’t you come and sit on the bed with me for a moment? I kind of am in need of a bit more reassurance than mere words from you can offer me.”

“Even if it are honest words?” She had attempted a watery smile.

“Even then.” He had held out his arm and she hadn’t hesitated any longer. The intensity of their make-up kiss had surprised him. He had heard some of the Free Folk boasting how the couplings after a fierce fight with their spouse had been worth the bruises and hurt ego they had suffered. _‘Worth it a thousand times.’_ Tormund had boasted when Jon had asked him about a nasty bruise on his cheek one time.

The thrill he felt every time they had kissed before had been nothing compared to the lightening he felt now coursing through his blood. He inwardly cursed the fact that they weren’t married yet and how he had promised Ser Barristan earlier that they would just talk and maybe exchange an innocent kiss but nothing more. It had been the only way the knight had let her enter his room at this late hour while staying outside in the hallway himself. Ser Barristan had understood their need to cement the precariously truce of their earlier argument and that they preferred to do so in private. He had played his role of chaperone extracting a promise of chastity from Jon all the same. 

Jon would have given anything to have been entitled to make her his right there and then. He had summoned all his willpower and had succeeded in ending a very long and passionate kiss. He had taken a few deep breaths and had gazed deep into her dilated pupils. “As much as I want to keep you in my arms and show you how much I love you and worship every inch of your body, I made a promise to Ser Barristan.”

“We both did.” She had reluctantly released her hold on him and was breathing heavily as well. She had settled herself against the headboard of his bed and had stared straight ahead. Her hand that had rested between them however had shifted slightly towards his until she could caress it endearingly. He had not hesitated and had intertwined their fingers. A comfortable silence had ensued. Dany had been the first one to test their new resolution. 

“Perhaps I can try to make a start with speaking my mind and letting you know some of my thoughts?” She had offered after she had regained her composure somewhat.

“We can make a start tonight if Ser Barristan allows us a bit longer.” Jon had pressed her hand silently acknowledging his thanks for the effort she had been making.

Dany had checked the door that had still remained closed. She had turned to him and he had been able to discern the determined look that had appeared in her eyes. “I want to talk to you about the dragons, Aegon.”

He smiled at the memory when he mounted one of the horses that had been brought down to the docks the day before and absently saw his Kingsguards do the same. He pushed the thoughts of Dany and their newest project to the back of his mind and silently admired the thoroughbred that Prince Oberyn rode. It was clear the Dornish Prince had brought his own steed. The horses were a last minute adjustment to their plan because of Jon’s injury. 

The mounted party stayed behind a row of houseguards that marched on foot and cleared the way for them. The rear of their small caravan consisted of two more rows of their own men dressed up as Stark guards. Jon was in full armour. He wore the exact same armour as his Kingsguards had put on for the occasion. He also had a helmet covering his face. Jon’s formal outfit had been neatly folded in a large saddle bag and had been secured to Ser Oswell’s horse.

The people they passed in the streets of King’s Landing barely looked up when they passed by. By now, everyone was used to the sight of the Stark men going about the capital as if they owned it. Jon didn’t give the smallfolk much attention either. His gaze was directed towards Aegon’s Hill and the pale red stone of the Red Keep. They encountered no trouble whatsoever and the small caravan quickly reached a side gate where they were supposed to pass through the large wall and enter the Red Keep’s domain. 

His Uncle who had been waiting there for them hugged Jon silently and then the large group marched hurriedly to the inner gates that gave entrance to the palace itself. Ser Gerold was really taking his duties seriously. Jon now flanked by Uncle Ned and Ser Gerold both with their hands on the pommel of their swords, took his first steps inside the stronghold that had been built by his ancestors. Three guards walked in front of him and a large contingent of men protected his rear. They all wore the sigil of House Stark for now. 

Jon had never set foot in King’s Landing before and had only seen the Red Keep from afar. He tried to look past the guards that surrounded him to take in his first close glimpses of the palace where he would reign but was hindered at every turn. 

“How is King Robert?” Jon whispered to his uncle when they stopped at an inner gate waiting for the guards to open the large doors to let them pass. 

“He is hanging in there. He is lucid and very much wants to meet you. It won’t be long though.” His uncle looked haggard and sad when he told his nephew this in a low tone of voice.

Ser Gerold addressed Lord Stark now also speaking discreetly. “Have all our allies been informed. Are you sure our Prince will be safe in there?”

“Of course I am sure. Almost everybody present in the Red Keep is a vetted Targaryen loyalist. You have been receiving a new list of names every few days. A small army from the Riverlands has arrived and will help the City Watch with keeping the smallfolk in the city under control in case of a revolt but we all agreed that such a thing is not likely to happen. Every man we can trust in King’s Landing has been alerted. Lord Varys has been spreading rumours in favour of our Prince and several songs are sung by people paid by him that praise the saviour who rides a dragon. All of Jon’s deeds in the North are being whispered about as far as the shabbiest corner of Fleabottom.”

“What about potential enemies here inside the Keep?” Ser Gerold still kept the group of men from venturing further inside before he was satisfied that Jon’s safety could be ensured. 

“I have ordered my men to work together with the Targaryen loyalists so that at every opportunity and in every room we will outnumber the nobles whose alliance might be doubtful once they realise who my nephew really is. We have everything under control, Ser Gerold. Stannis Baratheon hasn’t even done his sick brother the courtesy of showing up no matter how many times we summoned him. He hasn’t been told that the King is dying. Nobody has been informed of that yet. Don’t forget that the few men from the Stormlands that are in King’s Landing are ones that have pledged to support our cause.”

“Let’s stay vigilant all the same. My Prince, stay close to us at all times and be prepared to draw your weapon.”

“Don’t worry, Ser Gerold. I am sure nobody in here will be stupid enough to draw his sword and if someone were to try, I am confident you will have dealt with him before I can even think to draw my sword.” Jon’s tone clearly conveyed his wish to move forward.

“Of course we will deal with them, my Prince. But these moments are decisive. Stay alert. ” 

A small commotion made the men startle and draw their weapons. They were quickly put away again. Davos Seaworth and Sam Tarly had bumped into their rear guard. As soon as order had been restored, Ser Gerold gave Lord Stark the sign to continue and they followed the Hand of the Baratheon King along several corridors. On Lord Stark’s command, the guards spread out and by the time they stopped at a door, the group had dwindled down to just Ned, Jon, his three Kingsguards and two of Lord Stark’s men. Sam and Davos had stayed behind as well.

Ned ushered them inside a large room where Jon could change out of his armour and dress as the Prince of Dragonstone. A large coat hid his sigil of the three headed dragon on his doublet for now. Ned had been honoured to notice that the head of a direwolf had been incorporated at the bottom of the Targaryen sigil. 

“We are close to the King’s quarters. We just need to walk to the end of that hallway and turn right. Once inside, you can display your house’s sigil proudly, Jon.” Lord Stark explained then he turned to the three knights.

“Ser Gerold, I will need you all to remain outside. The royal bedchamber has two exits. Stark houseguards are stationed at the servant’s entrance. You will stay here in the hallway by the main door.”

“Is there no way at least one of us can guard the door from the inside?” Ser Gerold did not look happy at Lord Stark’s suggestion.

“Not before the official abdication has taken place. Then it is up to Jon or more precisely, King Aegon.” Ned explained. I hope you trust me with the life of my only nephew, Ser Gerold.”

“It is okay, Ser Gerold.” Jon spoke up. He had finished dressing but handed his swordbelt with Blackfyre to his Lord Commander. “Please take this for now. I can’t enter with a sword on my belt in the King’s bedchamber.”

Ser Gerold looked at Lord Stark and relented. “I entrust him to you. Promise me you will throw something heavy against the door or find another way to alert us if you need our urgent assistance.”

“You have my word. I will keep him safe.” Lord Stark nodded to the three knights looking calm and confident. “You can follow us till we reach the door of the King’s bedchamber. Once there, be advised that I will enter the room alone at first to inform to the King of Jon’s presence.” 

The small group quickly approached the door to the King’s bedchambers. Two Stark houseguards stood at their post guarding the door. 

“Is the King alone in his room?” Ned asked his own men.

“The healer left a while ago and told us that the King was resting. He is alone, Lord Hand.”

“He will be expecting us.” Ned Stark spoke these words so the guards would open the door for him. Next he addressed his nephew. “I’ll quickly announce your presence and then you will be allowed to come inside.” Ned voice brokered no comment and nobody objected when he swiftly turned around and disappeared inside the bedchamber.

The room smelled of sickness and Robert lay in the bed with his eyes closed. His face looked drawn even in rest. Ned approached the bed and took the bluish hand in his. 

“Robert, are you awake? There is a visitor here to see you.”

“Ned? I was just resting my eyes. I am not in the mood for visitors now. But you may stay. I want you to tell me more about Lyanna’s son. Tell me again about his friendship with this young man that you claim is my bastard, Gendry and is my spitting image. I like to hear how a younger version of you and one of me are friends just like we were.” 

“Wouldn’t it be nicer if he told you personally? My nephew is waiting outside your door.” Ned saw Robert’s entire body come alive as it were.

“He has come?” The King opened his eyes as wide as he could. His hands were pushing at his furs.

“All the way from Eastwatch beyond the Wall. He has flown here just as you requested.” Ned was quick to confirm.

“Hurry, help me up, Ned.” Robert looked frantic and was trying to get to a more upright position but was too weak to accomplish that by himself.

“Is that wise, Robert?” Ned approached the bed now so he could help his friend if he persisted in his folly.

“Help me up, dammit. The damage has already been done. I want to look a little more dignified when I meet him. Come on, Ned. Don’t make me beg.” Instead of being pale, the King’s cheeks now had a feverish red colour.

It was a struggle but with their combined efforts they managed to get Robert to sit half upright with a bundle of furs supporting his back. 

“All right.” Robert was breathing heavily his face contorted with pain. “Now drape my best coat over my shoulders. He flattened his beard with his right hand. Do I look presentable enough?”

“You look just fine, Robert. You haven’t lost your Baratheon charm yet. He will recognise your blue eyes immediately. They always were your best feature.” Ned tried to appease the dying man. He hesitated whether he would ask him to lose the nightcap but decided against it.

“I sure as hells charmed the ladies with them. Where is that royal decree? Give it to me. I’ll hide it under the co-covers until we have spoken.”

Ned handed him a large scroll. “Thank you for doing this, Robert.”

The King scoffed. “Who would I have appointed as my heir? My brother who b-b-burns children and who doesn’t even shy away from burning kin? Or my other brother who fucks men and cannot beget heirs. Lyanna’s son is honourable and the right option when all is taken into account. All will be well, Ned.”

Ned shook his head. “It is I who should be saying that to you, Robert. Are you ready? Shall I summon him?”

“It is time. Let him enter, Ned.”

 

 

**Interlude 34: A royal punishment**

Willas Tyrell hesitated when he arrived at Lannisport and saw a delegation of Lannister soldiers waiting patiently until he disembarked. They probably had orders to escort him to Lord Tyrion Lannister. 

Life sometimes took strange turns. Fate somehow kept throwing Myrcella and him together when he least expected it. First at Winterfell and now surely he was going to see her again while he was a guest at the Rock. He had often thought of her. Mostly wondering how she had adapted to the life of a bastard. The golden Princess of Westeros was now the incestuous bastard of a Mad Queen and her adulterous twin brother. He was not sure if he wanted to see her with the way things were now. A Lord could not treat a bastard as an equal. Seeing each other would only result in pain and heartache. Perhaps he would not get the chance even if he wanted to see her. She might be hidden away in the servants quarters, doing the Gods know what so House Lannister could pretend she and her brother didn’t exist and thus could uphold a fake respectability. He cursed the task that had brought him here. If only he had travelled a little quicker. If only he had sailed off before they had caught up with him. If only.

Nobody could have been more surprised than him when a messenger had intercepted him at Seagard. His first thought had been that his grandmother had wanted him to change his plans and head for King’s Landing instead of hurrying home to Highgarden. Nothing had been further from the truth. 

The message had been a summons from Prince Aegon Targaryen. It was a request to stop at Casterly Rock and convey a message from the Targaryen Prince to Lord Tyrion Lannister. The strange thing was that he was not yet in possession of the missive himself. He would only receive it when he arrived at Lannisport. The Prince would make sure he got it in time for his interview with Lord Lannister.

Willas couldn’t for the life of him come up with a reasonable explanation why it was imperative that he be the one to present the Targaryen Prince’s request to Lord Tyrion Lannister in person. However, the incentive offered by the Prince was too great to refuse the errand. The message he received had stated clearly that if Lord Willas Tyrell agreed to carry out this assignment, he would ensure that House Tyrell did not lose its position as Lord Paramount of the Reach despite not offering their allegiance as of yet as the others had. To make things even more mysterious, the message had been signed by Prince Oberyn Martell on behalf of Prince Aegon Targaryen.

“We have orders from King Aegon to escort you safely to Casterly Rock, Lord Tyrell.” The leader of the red and golden attired guards addressed him. “Lord Lannister has been advised of your visit. We brought you a mount.”

“King Aegon?” Willas was baffled now.

“King Robert died and he appointed King Aegon as his heir by royal decree days before he passed away. We were ordered to inform you that a message from the King awaits you at Casterly Rock, my Lord.”

Willas accepted the reins of the horse. He turned toward his manservant. “Please see to it that the crate with my overnight luggage is brought up to the Castle.” 

He mounted the chestnut mare they had brought for him and steered the horse next to the spot where the leader was waiting for him. “Perhaps you can enlighten me on these new developments on our way up to the castle. I have been confined on a boat for some time and apparently missed this major political change.”

 

***

 

Willas Tyrell was immediately escorted to a large room where Lord Lannister was waiting to receive him. Willas bowed and started the greeting.

“Lord Lannister, I am pleased to meet you again. We didn’t get a chance to meet each other at Winterfell.” He stopped looking suddenly nervous and cursed himself to be so stupid as to remind Tyrion Lannister of the downfall of his family.

“Please be seated, Lord Tyrell.” Tyrion Lannister motioned the servants who immediate brought a tray of bread and salt.

“Ever since I’ve visited the North, I have developed a strong appreciation for some of their customs. I never quite thought much of guest rights until I read some of the history books in Lord Stark’s excellent library.” 

Lord Lannister took the plate from the servant and personally presented it to the heir of Highgarden. Willas took a small piece of breath, dipped it in the salt careful not to get too much of it on the bread and took a small bite.

“I thank you for your consideration, Lord Lannister. I am sure my visit must come as a surprise to you.”

“Not at all.” The dwarf replied keeping his voice as formal as Willas Tyrell’s. “I have been waiting a long time to receive an ambassador of House Targaryen. The only thing that I did not suspect is that it would be a Lord of House Tyrell playing messenger boy. As far as I knew your house was one of the last to recognize the claim of King Aegon. I have been told they refused to do at several instances when our King was still a Prince.”

“That is a strong way of putting it. We were never asked explicitly. All we received were vague hints, and you know my grandmother.” Willas cringed when he grasped how weak his explanation sounded.

Lord Lannister just mockingly raised an eyebrow and kept silent. Willas swallowed and changed the subject. “You mentioned that you have been expecting a royal ambassador. Then you know why I am here?” 

Willas Tyrell had quickly realised that he was at an even greater disadvantage than he had originally surmised. His host seemed to know exactly why he was there, while he still hadn’t the faintest clue what message he was bringing to House Lannister. Perhaps King Aegon was punishing his house by selecting him to bring the bad news that House Lannister lost the title of Lord Paramount. Perhaps they had to relinquish the Rock or the exploitation rights to their mines. He started sweating.

“Of course, I know.” Lord Tyrion now studied Willas Tyrell closely, a puzzled expression had appeared on the dwarf’s face. “You brought the legalization papers for my niece and nephew, did you not?”

“Legalization? Tommen and Myrcella?” Willas all of a sudden was praying fervently that that was indeed the message he was supposed to bring here. 

A Lannister houseguard entered without knocking, seemingly out of breath. “Apologies, my Lords. This package needed to be handed over to Lord Tyrell immediately upon his arrival. Once again my sincerest apologies.” The man gave the stunned young Lord a thick parcel. Then he bowed and quickly exited the room again.

“Ah,” the dwarf exhaled loudly. He looked visibly relieved. “That explains it. Shall I give you some privacy to examine the content of the package first?” 

“I would be much obliged, Lord Lannister. And perhaps a glass of wine? I might appreciate that as well?”

“Of course, where are my manners? I’ll fetch a servant right away. He will show you to a guest room and bring you some refreshments. I’ll see you when it is time for supper. Perhaps I can then introduce you to Lady Myrcella Lannister and her brother, Lord Tommen Lannister.” Tyrion Lannister smiled and as quick as his little legs allowed him, he exited the room to fetch the promised servant.

Willas unable to utter a single word just watched him leave, clutching the package tightly in his grasp. Could it really be that this wrapped up bundle of scrolls, adorned with the bright red Targaryen sigil and a small crown contained a royal decree making Myrcella a Lady Lannister, kin to a lord Paramount? That would change things considerably. He sobered. Not if Grandmother had already agreed to betroth him to Lady Sansa of House Stark. He was glad when the servant entered so he could retire to a private room and check what exactly the package contained.

 

***

 

Willas sat on the bed, his legs stretched out before him, his head resting against the headboard and closed his eyes. He took three deep breaths and then opened them and pinched his arm. No, he was not dreaming. He was still in a richly furnished bedroom with lots of gilded objects. He smiled when he took in the sight of the all-important papers that were neatly ordered on the bed within his reach. 

“Grandmother must be furious.” He spoke the words out loud and chuckled. “And now I am behaving like a madman, talking to myself.”

He shook his head. If he was a madman, he was a very happy one. He had first read the royal decree effectively declaring Myrcella and Tommen members of House Lannister with all the rights and privileges of trueborn children of Jaime Lannister. What was more, Lord Tommen was proclaimed the heir to Casterly Rock and the next Lord Paramount regardless of any future offspring the current Lord Lannister might sire. Lord Tyrion was relegated to the position of temporary regent. Next he had broken the seal on the letter King Aegon had addressed to him personally. 

The letter started with an apology for the impulsive manner in which he had been summoned to the Rock by Prince Oberyn. King Aegon however was quick to reassure that Prince Oberyn’s actions had merely sped up the process and that the end result was the one he had always intended.

The letter went on with some more formal wordings but Willas had needed to read it twice to grasp the repercussions. His grandmother was harshly rebuked for her stubborn ambitious scheming and House Tyrell had temporarily lost the right to decide the betrothals of their kin. King Aegon was exercising his right as King of the Seven Kingdoms to choose the bride of the heir to the Reach. Lady Margaery also needed to await royal approval before entering a betrothal. His younger brother, Loras would not be allowed to marry. He would be forced to accept a position as a Kingsguard.

Willas smiled when he compared the harsh terms spelled out on the scroll to the way this news would be received by its immediate recipients. Loras would be thrilled and honoured and he, well he was going to jump on the opportunity and ask Lord Lannister for the hand of his niece, Lady Myrcella of House Lannister before the first course would be served. And Lord Lannister even though he would not be given a choice in the matter by King Aegon would be very happy to have his niece betrothed the heir to Highgarden without having to provide a dowry. That was also a condition of King Aegon. House Tyrell would not be getting any gold from the Lannisters but were obliged to proclaim any offspring of their son Willas with Lady Myrcella of House Lannister as the rightful heirs to Highgarden and the next in line to become Lord Paramount of the Reach.

Willas looked at the small crate containing the bare necessities for a one night stay. He regretted leaving his more formal outfit on the ship. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. This attire would do. Myrcella would take him even in rags and his future good-uncle, well Lord Lannister had been given no choice in the matter. The King had decreed. He quickly sprang into action. He called for a servant to inform Lord Lannister he wanted a private audience before supper and did his best to refresh himself and present a respectable image to his future good-uncle.

 

***

 

_To King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk_

_Your Grace,_

_I formally announce the betrothal of my niece, the Lady Myrcella of House Lannister and Lord Willas of House Tyrell, heir to Highgarden._

_I send this letter to confirm that we will all travel to the capital as soon as our trunks are packed to swear our allegiance to Your Grace in person and to convey our wishes for a prosperous reign that hopefully will last for many, many years. May I take the liberty to inform Your Grace that House Lannister is of the opinion that Westeros will greatly benefit from Your Grace’s rule?_

_Since it will take us some time to reach King’s Landing and I am an impatient man, I use this message to express my admiration for the decisive ways by which Your Grace entrusts the lifelong loyalty of his subjects. Your Grace certainly has a unique way to make a punishment into a means of winning over the hearts of several subjects. (I might need to make an exception for the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell. But I am sure her absence at your Court will not be a great loss to anyone.)_

_My new King seems to be a man after my own heart. I look forward to meeting Your Grace face to face. If I may be so bold as to suggest a game of cyvasse? That might be a good opportunity to get the measure of one another. I am of course at your disposal and open to any other proposal Your Grace might suggest since you certainly come up with original ones._

_If ever I speak up against you, just remind me of this letter and the mood I was in while writing it. This diminutive lion is open to a friendship request of a dragon._

_My niece, nephew and future good-nephew all send you their deepest gratitude and ensure me that they will be more eloquent when standing before your Grace. I certainly hope so since they are deeply indebted to your Grace._

_Your obedient servant,  
Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, Regent of Casterly Rock and temporary Warden of the East _

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: All hail King Aegon the Sixth of his Name.


	35. All hail King Aegon, the Sixth of his Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day in the reign of our protagonist. We pick up right where we left off in the previous ‘main’ chapter.  
> Once again the interlude is set slightly in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is King and I only needed > 400.000 words to get to this point :-)  
> My version of the Iron Throne is closer to the one in the books than the one shown in the TV series. You can see a sketch of it in the wiki of ice and fire. (https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Iron_Throne)  
> Once again this chapter is unbeta’d. My beta is taking a small hiatus and will hopefully be back soon.
> 
> A warm thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. I appreciate each and every one of them.

*

“It is time. Let him enter, Ned.”

Ned quickly walked to the door of the royal bedchamber and soon after returned to Robert’s bedside in the company of a young man.

“Your Grace, may I present to you my nephew, Prince Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone?” Ned omitted the ‘true heir part’ out of respect for his friend who was still the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms by Conquest for now.

“Nephew, you stand in the presence of King Robert Baratheon.” Ned looked between the two men who were eager to take the measure of each other, neither of them minding the shortened introductions.

“Greetings, King Robert. I never imagined we would meet under such dire circumstances. I am sorry to hear of your fate.” Jon politely opened the conversation after having taken up position at the other side of the bed.

“You look just like her.” Robert barely got the words out. He swallowed and turned to face Ned. “You were right, Ned. He is much more Stark than Targaryen. Noble Stark blood will sit on the Iron Throne, Lyanna’s son.”

“I am also Prince Rhaegar Targaryen’s son.” Jon pointed out to the King in a firm voice.

Robert ignored his words and whispered. “Please come closer. I want to speak with you. I have to clear my conscience.” 

Ned nodded encouragingly at Jon who hesitated.

Robert held out his hand pleading with the young Prince to take it in his.

Jon thought of the vision his little cousin had described to him and knelt in front of the bed. He took the King’s pale, feverish hand in his.

“Thank you.” The relief was visible on the King’s face.

“I want to apologize for what happened to your family. I should have ke-kept a tighter leash on Tywin Lannister. I never ordered him to ki-kill them but he did it to please me and,” Robert paused and took a few shallow breaths. “And once the deed was done, there was no going back and I chose a position of strength.”

“That doesn’t ring true.” Jon retorted calmly releasing the King’s clammy hand and getting back on his feet. “You still kept sending assassins to my young Aunt in Pentos for many years after that.”

“You’re right. I persisted in my behaviour. But you must believe me when I tell you that now, knowing what I know now, I deeply regret what happened. I apologize sincerely and ask for your forgiveness.”

“I thank you for the sentiment but I cannot absolve you entirely. I would lie if I told you I did.” Jon kept his voice firm and tried to keep his wits about him. The unnaturally red on the cheeks of Robert Baratheon but most of all the smell of sickness surrounding him reminded Jon of the only man dying a non-violent death that he had ever stood in the presence of, his great-great-uncle Aemon.

“A Stark through and through, honour and principles. You raised a fine boy, Ned.” Despite addressing his Hand, the King did not take his eyes off the Targaryen Prince who stood stiffly at his bedside.

“What will happen to my brothers once you take the throne?” Robert asked him while he studied the determined face of the young man who towered over him.

Jon took a breath. At least to this question, he could give a forthright answer that would be appreciated. “Prince Renly will lose his title of Prince and instead will be given back the title of the Lord of Storm’s End and House Baratheon will retain the position of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Renly Baratheon has agreed to name as his heir your bastard son, Gendry that I will legalize as one of my first acts as King of the Seven Kingdoms. He will be known forthwith as Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End.

Robert nodded relieved. “And Stannis?”

Jon’s eyes darkened but his voice was calm and unwavering when he answered the King’s question. “Stannis Baratheon will stand trial for murder and will be executed. I cannot condone the burning of innocent people. He will stand trial and lose his head. That is, if he shall not be killed in battle first. If, as we suspect, he refuses to surrender Storm’s End peacefully to his younger brother, I will bring fire and blood to Stannis Baratheon.”

“Lady Shireen, I mean Princess Shireen,” Jon corrected himself as she was still a Princess for the time being, “will have a choice. She may go live with her uncle at Storm’s End or will be welcome to live at my court. She will be regarded as a noble Lady of a Lord Paramount’s House and I will not tolerate any mistreatment of her because of the actions of her kin. I will recognise her as my cousin and treat her as such. You have my word of honour.”

“Thank you,” Robert whispered. “I thank you on behalf of Renly and my poor niece.” Robert spoke a bit louder now.

“Renly Baratheon is not to blame for what happened seventeen years ago. His recent arrest and exile were unfortunate and he will receive a full royal pardon.”

“A Targaryen pardoning a Baratheon, that says it all.” Robert turned to Ned. “I think it is time.” He pulled the scroll out from under the covers and handed it to his Hand. “As your last act as Hand of King Robert Baratheon first of his name, please read this scroll out loud.”

Jon straightened his posture, fully aware of what was about to happen. He knew the letter his uncle had sent him by hard by now. He stared firmly in the eyes of the dying King and nodded. Then both men turned their faces toward Lord Stark when the latter started to read.

_I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,_  
Protector of the Realm,  
being of sound mind and disposing of memory do hereby make public and declare this to be my will, hereby revoking all wills and royal decrees by me heretofore made on the matter decreed below. 

_As from this day, I abdicate the Iron Throne and all titles that go with it and name as my successor Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and his lawfully wedded wife the Princess Lyanna of House Targaryen formerly of House Stark. I relinquish the right of Conquest of House Baratheon to the Iron Throne and give it most willingly and freely back to House Targaryen, more specifically to its rightful heir, Prince Aegon, the son of my beloved Lyanna._

_This was done on the 65th day of 299 AC in front of witnesses who solemnly swear that I am sound of mind and am performing a free and voluntary act, without any duress, coercion or undue influence exerted by a member of House Targaryen or a third party._

_All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk._

_Signed by_  
King Robert of House Baratheon, now Lord Robert, …  
Witnessed by  
Lord Eddard of House Stark, …  
Lord Yohn of House Royce, …  
Prince Oberyn of House Martell, …  
Lord Varys,…  
Davos Seaworth,  
Ser Gerold Hightower, …. 

Lord Stark lowered the important scroll. “I skipped reading all the titles of the signatories. Only the last two still need to sign but that is just a minor matter that will soon be put to rights. They are all present in the Red Keep, your Grace.” Lord Stark pertinently looked at Jon when he spoke his last two words.

Ned then removed the brooch of the Hand of the King from his doublet and walked around the bed. He went to his knees and bowed his head.  
“I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be, my King. I swear it by the Old Gods.”

“Please rise, Uncle. You already swore your allegiance. You will always have my respect, gratitude, support and protection. And I repeat my offer that you are welcome to serve as my Hand alongside Davos Seaworth. You only have to say the word, be it now or at any point in the future.”

Ned got back to his feet and handed the brooch to Jon. “I am honoured to be offered the positon but if you can make do without me, I ask your permission to return to the North after your coronation and wedding, your Grace. I will serve you faithfully as Warden of the North.”

“Permission granted, Uncle. We will speak of this later.” He looked significantly to the bed.

“Lord Baratheon, I thank you for the dignified way in which you accepted the situation. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Your Grace,” Robert nodded once to mimic a bow. “I wish you good fortune. I only ask that you grant me a visit later. It must not be long. A pri-private audience after I had a chance to recuperate.”

“Of course, Lord Baratheon. We will leave you now so you can rest. I promise to come back if not today than tomorrow at the latest.” 

“Thank you, your Grace.” Robert Baratheon closed his eyes and didn’t open them until the door closed behind his former foster-brother and Lyanna’s son. The Gods really had a strange sense of humour and sure as hells enjoyed toying with a man’s life. Gods, the boy was Lyanna reborn. Just as fierce, just as beautiful. He would make a good King. And Robert felt cheated that he would not be alive to see it.

 

***

 

When Jon exited the room his three loyal knights as well as Sam and Davos looked at him expectantly. Lord Stark smiled. “You stand in the presence of King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name.”

His loyal entourage including the Stark guards present at the door and the others a bit further in the hallway but still within hearing range all knelt and bowed their head. “Your Grace,” the words echoed around him until they had all greeted him that way.

“Please rise.” Jon looked embarrassed at the subservient display of the men that had raised him, cared for him, protected him and chastised him if necessary for as long as he had known them. He hoped this would be one of the last times they would kneel to him in this way. He still remembered his discussion with Ser Gerold on the ship earlier this day. 

Jon had explained exactly why he had been so disappointed by their lack of warmth during their reunion on the cliffs. Ser Gerold had made it clear what their duties would entail as soon as he was officially their King. They had exchanged their interpretations on how strictly everyone would need to adhere to protocol and what reforms were acceptable and had reached a consensus. Both men had needed to make concessions. 

Jon had won the battle where it concerned everyone’s behaviour when amongst themselves away from prying eyes and ears. He had conceded considerable ground though when Ser Gerold had laid out how formal things would be when in public and what his Lord Commander considered to be a public setting. For example, Jon walking to and from his quarters along hallways where servants and guards were present was a public setting and his Kingsguards would not be allowed to speak to him if not explicitly ordered to. To prevent Jon from finding a way around that, Ser Gerold had made Jon solemnly promise to order them to speak at such occasions only for safety or emergency purposes. 

The men had all risen back to their feet. Jon noticed how his uncle handed the thick scroll to Davos. 

“Get Ser Gerold to sign this and sign it yourself. You will read this document out loud before the court this afternoon. As of now, that is no longer my duty.” Both men exchanged a wan smile.

Jon meanwhile had accepted his sword belt that Ser Gerold held out to him. He immediately felt more at ease with the familiar weight of Blackfyre at his side. Looking at his surroundings he addressed Lord Stark. “Let’s take this elsewhere. Can we perhaps retreat to the Tower of the Hand, Uncle?”

“Excellent suggestion, your Grace. Except, there are a lot of stairs to climb in order to get there. Perhaps we can adjourn to the room where King Robert signed his decrees. That happens to be situated very conveniently right around the corner.”

When Jon nodded his assent, Lord Stark quickly led the way. Ser Gerold was the first to open the door to check whether it was safe for his King to enter. Three men were already inside but instantly got to their knees when they spotted Jon. Prince Oberyn, Yohn Royce and Lord Varys apparently had been expecting them to come here.

Prince Oberyn made an exaggerated, ostentatious gesture and was the first to swear his allegiance. “Your Grace, I recognise you as my King and solemnly vow to be your loyal servant and will give my life for yours if need be. My spear is yours to command. I swear it by all the Gods and by the lives of my children and loved ones.” 

And I vow that you shall always have a place at my court and have the support and protection of the Seven Kingdoms. I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” Jon answered with his hand lightly on Prince Oberyn’s shoulder. He had trouble to keep a serious mien when he looked into the twinkling eyes of the Dornish Prince that peeked up at him when he finished his reply.

“Perhaps we should perform the rest or the oaths in the Throne Room before the entire Court, your Grace. The more witnesses the better.” Davos was quick to interfere before the others followed the example of the Dornish Prince. Prince Oberyn meanwhile had gotten back to his feet.

“I agree.” Jon limped to the nearest chair and sat down stretching his leg. He had done his utmost to conceal this injury from Robert Baratheon and was glad he could now rest his leg for a while.

Prince Oberyn was quick to offer. “I don’t mind putting on a show in the Throne room and repeating these words with even more flair and originality. It might be the only moment in there that you will be able to enjoy yourself.” The smug expression left his face when he saw how Jon manoeuvred his right leg. “Will it heal all right? Will you regain your agility?”

“Don’t worry, Oberyn. Soon enough, I will be able to best you again. I only need a sennight of rest before I will show my face again in the training yard.”

Prince Oberyn looked relieved at his words and nodded. 

Jon looked up at everyone and saw they were all waiting for him to say something. He smiled to himself and made use his Kingly authority at once.

“I will take this opportunity to forbid any of you from dropping to your knees before me in a private setting ever again unless I explicitly order you to do so. I will be forever grateful to you all for the support you have given me over the years to bring us to this point. May I ask that in private or in meetings with only my trusted advisors present, you will continue to speak your mind and give me honest, uncensored advice as you have always done before this day?”

“If that is your wish, your Grace.” Yohn Royce was the first to answer and the others all nodded in agreement.

Then Davos and Ser Gerold moved over to the impressive desk that King Robert had been so proud of. Both men quickly signed the all-important document. Sam approached the desk and looked through the drawers until he found some sand. He used it to dry the signatures and without further ado took a blank scroll from a drawer, seated himself behind the large desk and started copying the document.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Davos peeked over the young man’s shoulders to try and read what he was scribbling so diligently.

“I am making a copy of this document. It might be best to use a copy for the public reading in the throne room. We must protect the original at all cost until we find a safe hiding place. It should only be brought before the Court if absolutely necessary and under heavy guard.”

Jon meanwhile looked around the room feeling like an intruder instead of the rightful owner of the place. All this would take some getting used to. Turning his attention back to the small group of his most loyal supporters and noticing that they were waiting for him to decide how to proceed, he took charge. 

“Has a messenger been sent to alert Princess Daenerys and have the orders been forwarded to our fleet?”

“Yes, your Grace.” Ser Gerold answered. “The ship carrying the Princess will soon dock. She will be here well in time for the official proclamation. The captain has orders to alert the rest of the fleet still on Dragonstone. They will all hoist the Targaryen sails. Half of your fleet will be here before dark and the rest will guard both islands. The City Watch as well as all our guards on the docks are probably being briefed as we speak. Soon we will control the entire city.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Ser Gerold.” Jon now focused on the Dornish Prince. “Prince Oberyn, might I ask that you return to the docks and welcome the Princess in the same manner you welcomed me earlier? I’d appreciate it if you would be her a princely escort when she traverses the city. I trust you to bring her safely before me.”

“Of course, Aegon. I will protect her with my life.” He winked and left the room.

“Uncle, can you make the arrangement with the household to find us temporary accommodations?  
I am sure there must be adequate quarters for me somewhere in this large stronghold, preferably a room accessible without climbing too many stairs. I promised the Maester I’d be a good boy.” He tried to ease the tension in the room but everyone stayed solemn.

“I am on it, your Grace.” Ned bowed.

“Wait, Uncle,” Jon quickly stopped Lord Stark from leaving the room. 

“Lord Varys, can you go with him and see that the crates with our banners are delivered to the quarters that will be assigned to my Kingsguards for now? I want you all to distribute the smaller pins amongst the houseguards and the servant in the red keep so they can add it to their attire. My own men can change into their Targaryen outfits. Lord Stark can instruct the rest of the guards to make small changes to their attire. Also tell the servants to pull down the stag banners. I want my personal sigil to be shown throughout the Keep.”

Lord Varys bowed and both men left the room.

“Ser Gerold, I want you three in rooms close to mine for the first few days until we have better grasp on the situation. I count on you to check that at the appointed time, everyone tasked with guard duty in and around the throne room has sworn allegiance and has been outfitted with our sigil. Relieve the former King’s Kingsguard of their duties. If they swear allegiance, you can give them any position you deem fit. I leave that to your discretion.”

Ser Gerold nodded but Jon was not done yet. “And please can you arrange that enough guards are posted in this hallway? Also, can you double the guards outside Lord Baratheon’s rooms as well? Nobody will be allowed to speak with him without my approval. He must not be harassed or threatened because of his voluntary abdication in favour of House Targaryen.”

“Your Grace, shall I leave you alone then?” Ser Gerold hesitated to take his leave.

“I will use the time in between to discuss a few urgent matters with Davos Seaworth and Sam. I promise you that I will not leave this room for now, Ser Gerold. Just post enough guards in the hallway. There is no other entrance. We will be quite safe.”

“As you wish, my King.” Ser Gerold bowed but instead of leaving immediately, he handed his King a small item wrapped up in a brown cloth. Then he turned around without uttering another word and left the room.

Davos chuckled. “Way to go, my King. You cleared the room very effectively.”

“And you will soon be sorry you were allowed to stay,” Jon teased his Hand. “But first,” he stepped closer to Davos handing him the small package a serious look sporting his face, “you will need to look the part.”

Davos accepted the small bundle and unwrapped it swiftly only to find the expected brooch that the Hand of the King must always wear while representing his King. He looked at it in wonderment. This was no ordinary brooch. This was a work of art. The Targaryen symbol or better Jon’s personal version of it with the addition of a small direwolf’s head was etched in a badge made of solid gold. Davos’ eyes grew moist.

Jon took the badge from Davos’ shaking hands and personally pinned it to his dear adviser’s tunic. He patted the man’s shoulder affectionately, took a step back and cleared his throat to mask his own emotional state. 

“Now we have a lot of work to do. And please call me Jon or Aegon in private, Davos.” Jon relaxed his posture glad it was just the three of them for now.

“Okay, Jon. What assignments have you come up with for me and Sam?” Davos eyes were still shining suspiciously but he looked ready to tackle anything his King might throw at him.

Jon looked at Sam who had stopped scribbling. “Sam did you prepare the decrees legalising Gendry, Myrcella and Tommen?”

“I did, they are in the crates they are bringing to the Red Keep. We just need to add today’s date and your signature and stamp.”

“And the royal pardon for Lord Renly of House Baratheon and Gylles Stokeworth?”

“Same answer, Jon.”

“Excellent. Now I want you to write a new decree immediately. I, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name blah blah blah, you know what to write. For services above and beyond the call of duty, I raise Davos Seaworth to Lord Davos of House Seaworth, a new House of the Crownlands, their Overlord being the Prince of Dragonstone. I grant him a seat to be built within the year on …”

Jon smiled at Davos. “Now Davos here you can choose where you want to build your keep. What do you think of the Driftmark or Dragonstone? Of course you can choose any place for that matter, as long as it is situated within the borders of the Crownlands so I can be your liege Lord.”

“Dragonstone will do fine, thank you, Jon. Normally I would object but Sam here didn’t stop talking sense into me last night until my head ached and I gave in.”

“Good, then we can draft and sign this decree before we go to Court. I want to introduce you as Lord Seaworth and I refuse to have one of my first words in Court be an untruth.” 

Sam drafted the document in no time and the three men put their signatures under it.

When Davos was about to thank Jon again, the young man held up his hand.

“Now Davos instead of thanking me, I want you to add the following to your list of things to do: Formulate a procedure to put in a request for a royal pardon by men sent to the Wall for political reasons. Any man that can provide ample proof that he has been sentenced to the Wall solely based on their loyalty to House Targaryen and/or the part he played during the Rebellion and has not committed any other crimes that justify his sentence should be able to make an appeal to be granted his freedom. It needs to be airtight and must contain a punishment for anyone whose request is based on false statements. If not, I reckon half of the Night’s Watch will attempt to obtain a pardon. Sam will surely be willing to help you with the exact wording. I want it ready before the next moon.”

“And your reform of the Night’s Watch?” Sam asked after he had nodded his assent.

“That can wait until the political situation is more stable and we have a better grasp of the threat that the dead still pose beyond the Wall. If anything, we need to strengthen the defenses of the Wall. That reminds me, we have to send an urgent message to the Lord Commander at Castle Black, Cotter Pyke. He needs to lift the restrictions King Baratheon placed on Jaime Lannister at the Wall. The man must be regarded forthwith as an honourable member of the Night’s Watch and be given the status of a ranger immediately. Perhaps you should add that he saved the life of King Aegon during the battle near Hardhome and that the King wants Lannister to be given the means to send the King a report once a moon.”

“I’ll see to it that the raven leaves immediately after the official announcement has been made later today. I will draft it and Davos can check its contents before I send it out.” Sam offered.

“Thanks, Sam.” Davos and Jon said simultaneously and Jon smiled.

“We make a good team.” Jon added.

“When it is time to send them out, you can also dispatch the ravens we prepared for the Lord Paramounts and the Wardens so that they in turn can spread the word to all their bannermen. Don’t forget Yara Greyjoy. Also send one to the Citadel explaining all the changes. You will have to add the particulars of the new House Seaworth. If Davos doesn’t have an idea for a sigil yet, add that you will send more particulars regarding the new Lordship at a later date.”

“I’ll need to think on that for a bit. ” Davos answered when both men turned to him with a questioning look on their faces. “The only thing I know is that it will have to refer to seafaring, perhaps a boat, an anchor or another nautical symbol. Give me some time to come up with a name for my keep and words for my new house as well. The only thing I know for sure is that I will choose to build the keep near a bay so I can add a small dock.” He smiled deprecatingly.

Jon returned his smile and gestured to Sam who nodded.

“Then I will only add what we already know and promise to send the missing information later. May I offer my congratulations, my Lord Davos of House Seaworth.” Sam’s eyes twinkled.

Davos bowed. “I thank you, most honourable Lord Samwell of House Tarly.” 

Davos frowned when he made his next observation. “It will get even more crowded in the capital. What with the tournament already and now even more Lords need to come to King’s Landing to swear allegiance to you before the Court.”

“The message states that they have six moons to do that.” Jon pointed out. “Not everyone can leave at the same time. Some bannermen need to stay behind so business can go on as planned and no lands are unprotected. Robb will only be able to come once his father returns to Winterfell.”

“Theoretically, Robb doesn’t need to swear fealty, Jon. He is bound by his father’s word.” Sam was quick to clarify.

“I know, but I am certain my cousin will want to visit the capital. I’ll write to him as soon as I find the time. Perhaps I can find a spare moment later this evening.” He shook his head and concentrated on the business at hand. “There are two more urgent messages I will need you to send out without delay.”

“Okay,” Sam dipped the tip of his quill in the black ink.

“First, write to Maester Pylos and ask him to release the twenty men we were keeping prisoner on Dragonstone. He can tell them they have a choice, either swear allegiance to us and be allowed to stay on Dragonstone or be put on a boat heading toward the Stormlands.”

Jon noticed Davos’ frown but continued. “Ask the Maester to look for any living kin of Jaremy Rykker. As far as I know, no representatives of House Rykker have arrived in the capital. I want to know what happened to the family of the man that lost his life trying to save mine. I want them to know that Jaremy died an honourable death and I am willing to help them if they are in need.”

“Why ask Maester Pylos and not Lord Varys?” Davos asked.

“I want the Maester to feel that he is being included. I want to make amends for not trusting him earlier.”

“Do you really think allowing twenty able men to return to the Stormlands is wise, Jon?” Davos raised his concern in respectful manner.

“I am confident none of them will choose that option. I talked with each of them at several opportunities. I think I convinced them they will all be accepted back into the community on my island. They have been apprised of the fair treatment and help their kin still living on Dragonstone received during their imprisonment. I am willing to bet you that they will all choose to swear allegiance to us and return to their homes and families.”

“Then I will put my trust in you as well, my King.” Davos was quick to agree. Jon was glad to notice that the worried look had left his Hand’s face.

“And the other message?” Sam asked flexing his hand. 

“Secondly,” Jon resumed as if there had been no interruption, “write to Lord Manderly that he might consider joining the ship carrying my entourage south. Inform him of the date that we expect the ship carrying Lady Brienne of Tarth, Lord Edric of House Dayne and Lord Loras of House Tyrell will reach White Harbour. But start with informing him of the abdication and my new status of King of Westeros. Otherwise the man will have a seizure when he reads the signature.” A small smile lit Jon’s features. 

Sam looked up. “Ser Davos mentioned the tournament. What will you decide about that?”

Jon smiled. “I talked it through with Ser Gerold. It will take place. We just need to see how quickly it can all be arranged. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell will enter the melee. Ser Arthur regrets they have not been able to practice the joust for several years.”

“Do you really loose such a skill?” Davos asked. “Perhaps they should train a bit before making a decision.”

“I’m not sure there will be enough time for that. Besides I told them there would be another tournament next year, or maybe sooner if Dany and I,” Jon blushed.

“A royal birth would be an excellent excuse to hold a tournament.” Davos as always needed only half a sentence to understand Jon.

“Exactly,” Jon confirmed Davos statement. “If Dany and I are not blessed thus by then, it can be the one year anniversary of our marriage and reign. Anyway I agreed that they better refrain from entering the joust unless they were at their best. They have a reputation to uphold.”

“Well, now that you are King, they will certainly heed your advice.” Davos winked.

“Don’t mock your King.” Jon chastised him but his eyes danced with mirth. “As a punishment you can think of an excuse to still go through with the tournament when Robert Baratheon’s imminent death becomes public knowledge. It must all be handled in such a way they can’t accuse us of disrespect.”

A knock startled the men. Ser Arthur entered. “Your Grace, a message from Howland Reed.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Lord Howland Reed’s messages could contain the most unexpected things at times. 

“Thank you, Ser Arthur. Please stay a moment. Perhaps you need to hear this.” Jon took the scroll Ser Arthur held out to him.

He then proceeded to break the seal and quickly scanned the message. At first a wide smile lit his features but it was soon replaced by a deep frown. 

“Uncle Benjen is on his way here. Lord Reed writes he will set a new record. He changes horses as much as possible and races for King’s Landing. He travelled past Greywater Watch two days ago.”

“As long as he arrives safely, that is rather welcome news, isn’t it? Why are you frowning, Jon?” Davos asked the young King.

“Lord Reeds writes that Benjen felt no longer welcome at Winterfell. That Robb sort of made him leave.” Jon looked upset with his cousin.

“I’m sure there is an explanation. Perhaps you should show this message to Lord Stark.” Sam offered.

“I certainly will. At the speed he is travelling…” Jon stopped and looked at Davos. “How long can we delay the coronation and the marriage?”

“The coronation is only symbolic. A show you will put on for the people and the Faith of the Seven. You are the King and can exert your authority as such without the ceremony. I’d say you have some leeway here. Where your marriage is concerned, well better consult the Princess before taking a decision any which way. I won’t get between the two of you again. Last night was enough for me. She will keep you on your toes, Jon.”

“Dany will understand that I would strongly prefer for Uncle Benjen to be present at our wedding. I am not keen on delaying until Lady Brienne, Loras and Edric get here. They still have a long way to go. But we might be able to give a few more Lords the opportunity to reach the capital in time. I want a daily update of which Lords are in the capital and which ones have announced their imminent arrival. I’ll talk to Dany about it and we will make a decision in a couple of days.”

“That sounds more like it. Start using ‘we’ more often from now on, son. Then you will have a better chance at marital bliss.” Davos was glad to see Jon’s eyes light up.

“Now what does one do if one needs to eat in a royal palace?” Jon asked startling his Hand who had thought his King would have been distracted considering the dreamy expression that had appeared on the young man’s face when Davos had referred to his upcoming marriage.

 

***

 

Not long after, they were all installed in a private dining room. The three knights proudly wore their Targaryen armour marked with the personal sigil of King Aegon. People would soon get used to seeing the familiar three headed dragon sigil combined with the head of a direwolf looking up at the dragons. The blacksmith Jekken had been the one ordered to make many such badges since Gendry had been too busy forging dragonglass weapons. Furthermore, two large banners had been pinned to the side walls of the luxurious space.

Before the first course had been served, a group of servants had been ushered inside and they had all knelt and sworn their allegiance to King Aegon. The head of the household had been tasked by Ser Gerold to provide a list of names and backgrounds on all the servants allowed within the walls of the Red Keep. That list would be a means to keep track of the ones that had sworn allegiance. No others were allowed in the presence of the new King and his entourage. 

Ser Gerold had started doing the same with every guard in the inner Keep first and would tackle the rest of the stronghold later. These first few days would be very busy ones for all of them. He had already asked Lord Stark to be allowed to have his most loyal men assist him for the time being. Ser Gerold would not rest until he had the Royal Guard up and running. All he had been able to do on Dragonstone was draw lists of capable men he knew from before. Now he needed to evaluate the valour of the younger men that would come forward when word got out that the Royal Guard was recruiting.

They were halfway through their meal when Prince Oberyn burst in flanked by Princess Daenerys. “Safe and sound into your hands I deliver her, your Grace.” He bowed and winked at Jon when he righted himself. Sam sitting next to Jon, immediately rose from his seat and offered it to Daenerys. He quickly took another seat a bit further down the table. Jon nodded his thanks first to Prince Oberyn and then to Sam. He rose from his chair and assisted Dany when she took her place at his side. Jon quickly sat down again and raised his cup, but Dany was the first to speak.

“Congratulations, your Grace.” She smiled and raised the cup a servant had quickly filled up for her. Then she leaned closer to him. “Not the way I wanted to say that.” Her voice was now no more than a whisper. 

“Too many witnesses. Luckily there is always later. Hold on to your intentions till then,” Jon whispered back to her, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. Out loud he said. “Thank you, Daenerys. Now let us enjoy our first meal in King’s Landing.”

 

***

 

Jon and Dany entered the empty throne room from a side door. Only Ser Gerold was already there and had clearly been awaiting their arrival. Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur had been their guides and guards during the long walk to this part of the keep. Neither Jon nor Dany were familiar with the endless hallways of the Red Keep.

“What do you think, Dany?” Jon asked as they were studying the Iron throne with their own eyes for the very first time.

She looked at him and was hesitant to give her opinion. “I don’t know. It looks uh not very uh accommodating for the person who needs to sit on it. It almost looks as if it has all been thrown together rather hastily and they didn’t take the time to smooth the edges.”

Jon who had been staring into her eyes while she spoke shifted his eyes and examined the throne once more. “I didn’t realise the seat was so high up. The throne is an important symbol though. I don’t think it would send the right message to melt it down.” 

He climbed the steps, careful not to strain his right leg too much. When his eyes were finally at level height with the seat of the throne, he reached with his hand to test one of the more dangerous looking edges of a sword that stuck out of the iron construction. A surprised look flitted over his face. He touched it again.

“The edges are blunt.” He exclaimed. “No need to worry about me. I won’t get cut by them.”

“They are not blunt.” Ser Gerold protested. “The Mad King, uh forgive me your Grace, your grandfather, King Aerys II repeatedly cut himself on this throne. He even got the nickname King Scab because his arms and legs were always covered with scabs and half-healed wounds from cuts caused by blades that stuck from the throne.

Dany quickly mounted the steps and stood beside him eying the more dangerous looking ones. “They sure look sharp to me.” She commented and carefully touched an edge of a blade. “Ouch”. She lifted her finger and showed Jon the small cut. Without thinking, Jon quickly brought it to his mouth to suck in the drop of blood that had appeared.

Jon looked beseechingly at her and then at Ser Gerold. He pressed her hand tightly between his calloused palms. “I did not trick her. I told the truth.” He turned his head again and eyed the Iron Throne with dismay. “Don’t tell me this … thing is imbued with magic as well.”

Ser Gerold looked on with astonishment as nothing happened when Jon freed one of his hands from Dany’s and touched the blade at the exact same spot where Princess Daenerys had hurt her finger. 

“Ser Oswell, ask Samwell Tarly to join us for a moment.” Ser Gerold’s brusque command resounded through the empty throne room.

“He is assisting Lord Seaworth with listing and shortly interviewing the nobles that are to attend his Grace’s first audience in the throne room.” Ser Oswell remarked.

“I’m sure whatever this is, it can wait. We’ll try to find out more later, Ser Gerold,” Jon addressed his Lord Commander with a firm voice. He released Dany’s hand and turned to face his Kingsguards.

“Somewhere in this large Keep there must be some formal ceremonial chairs for the King and Queen when they hold court or attend a feast. Bring them in here and put them on some tables or something so they will be visible even from the back of the room. Dany and I will use them to receive the Lords and Ladies side by side.”

“My King, these nobles have come to swear their allegiance. You should be sitting on the throne for that part. It is already too bad there is no crown for you to wear for now.”

“But there is.” Ser Arthur spoke up now. “He can wear the crown of the Prince of Dragonstone. And we brought the ceremonial coat with the beautiful ermine collar. He will look the part.”

“Is there a matching one for the Princess?” Jon asked taking Dany’s hand in his again and pulling her closer to his side. 

“We still have the crown of her mother, the Princess Rhaella and I am sure we will find a matching coat for her.” Ser Arthur looked at Ser Gerold but this time his voice had sounded unsure. Ser Gerold seemed hesitant as well.

“Permission to fetch these items?” Ser Arthur quietly asked his Lord Commander.

Jon didn’t pay attention to Ser Gerold’s response. He seated himself on the throne and carefully guided Dany down until she was installed on his left thigh. He gave her a quick peck on her cheek. “So my future Queen, I gather you don’t like our throne?”

Dany giggled and quickly gave him a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might grow to like it if you are shielding me from its more dangerous edges.”

“I’ll always shield you, Dany.” He promised, his dark eyes gazing into her purple once with a sincere and serious look. Then he scanned the room and let his eyes wander over his Kingsguards who were standing way below them. “We certainly look down on our subjects from up here. It is not as I expected it to be at all.” He confessed quietly so she alone could hear.

“Then change it. But not today. Better wait a year or so. After you have a firm grip on Westeros and have earned the respect of your people, then you can make any changes you deem fit.”

“ _Our_ people and _we’ll_ make any changes we want.” Jon corrected her and gave her another quick kiss on her lips.

Ser Gerold coughed. “My King, I am going to let the servants enter with the Targaryen ornaments they found in the cellars beneath this room. Perhaps you should come down. I just got word that Davos and Sam are almost ready with the list of the attendees for your first audience. I advise you to retreat through the side door for a while. Ser Arthur will be back any moment now with the crown and coat.”

 

***

 

In the end Jon had listened to Davos and Sam who had joined their voices to his Lord Commander’s and had ascended the throne. A beautiful chair with red velvet had been fetched and placed to the right side of the Iron Throne. Princess Daenerys stood before it, Ser Barristan next to her. She did not wear a crown. Once more Jon had given in. This time because Dany had been in full agreement with his advisers. She was not a Queen until their marriage had taken place in the Sept. For now all parties agreed it was best to adhere to the established Court protocol as strictly as possible. It would make the unexpected change in power a bit easier to swallow for the people of Westeros if they could fall back on rules they were all familiar with and had lived by for centuries. 

Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur guarded the stairs that lead to the throne where Jon had taken his place stately dressed up, a modest golden crown adorned with red rubies on his head. He smiled self-consciously at Dany when the doors opened and the Nobles present in the capital started pouring into the Throne room. He straightened his postured on put on what he hoped was something resembling a stately face.

Jon recognised several that had come to greet him on Dragonstone. Many others he had never seen before. He was glad that court protocol demanded that each one was announced to him with name title and where their seat was located before they were allowed to swear allegiance. He could guess some of the names of their houses if they wore a large enough sigil or carried a banner, but from his position high upon the throne some of the smaller sigils were difficult to discern.

The Lady Olenna Tyrell, her son and goddaughter, Lord Mace and Lady Alerie whom he knew to be a relative of Ser Gerold were easily recognisable. They had been able to secure a spot on the second row. Lady Olenna had looked at Jon with interest but had narrowed her eyes when she had studied the Princess next. Jon’s aversion to her took on a new dimension. He now believed that the things Prince Oberyn had told him had not all been exaggerations as Jon had initially presumed. Perhaps he should ask the others to share their opinions of the Queen of Thorns with him in more detail.

Jon tried not to squirm when all eyes were fixed on him. Everyone was staring at the young Targaryen King as one would study a new species of animal that had been caught in the wilds. Nobody made even the slightest effort to disguise their curiosity. This audience was already significantly different than the one at his first public appearance on Dragonstone. The people here were not unconditionally predisposed to like him. He felt the critical gaze of many a noble eying him boldly, trying to find fault. Or more likely they were looking for a weakness so they could reap some benefit from this unexpected political shift. At least that was Jon’s perception at that moment and it matched with what he had been taught about the political power games that were being played in the capital all the time. 

Finally the large doors fell shut. Ser Gerold bumped the floor with a large staff. The low murmurs stopped and all eyes turned toward the Lord Commander only to shift slightly to his left where Davos started to unroll the copy of the important scroll. The newly proclaimed Lord of House Seaworth waited until absolute silence reigned over the hall before he started to speak.

“My name is Lord Davos of House Seaworth. I stand before you today to read to you the last royal decree Lord Robert of House Baratheon issued when he still had the authority of King of the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Baratheon is confined to his bed due to the injuries sustained while on a boar hunt more than a sennight ago now. It is on his express demand that his last royal decree is read out loud before the Court today. He also wished to convey his regret that he cannot attend this gathering himself. Had his health had allowed for it, he would have pledged his support to the new King before the entire court.”

Some outburst could be heard but were quickly shushed by the majority of the audience who were curious to hear the rest of Lord Seaworth’s speech.

Again Davos waited patiently until he had the full attention of all the nobles present. Then he proceeded to read the content of the scroll out loud.

He raised the volume of his voice even higher when he read the last paragraph.

_“All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk.”_

When he read the names of the signatories next his voice had regained a more normal level. 

_“Signed by Lord Robert of House Baratheon and the following witnesses: Prince Oberyn of House Martell, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord Yohn of House Royce, Lord Varys, Ser Gerold Hightower, and myself .”_

He dropped the scroll and looked at his audience repeating at the top of his voice, “All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen.”

The Targaryen supporters lead the chant: “All hail King Aegon of House Targaryen!”  
A few looked around a bit hesitant but since they were clearly in the minority they all followed when sevral lords dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

Jon rose from his seat Ser Gerold pounded the staff on the ground again to get everyone’s attention. Their silence was rewarded by hearing the young King speak up for the first time. 

“Please rise noble folk of Westeros. I am honoured that you have all come before me to swear fealty to House Targaryen and recognise me as your rightful King. Let me introduce you again to Lord Davos of House Seaworth, but now in the capacity of Hand of the King. I want everyone to know that Lord Seaworth speaks for me and everyone who swears his allegiance to me will be bound to obey him as well.”

Jon gestured to Lord Davos to proceed and sat back down.

“My Lords, the King will be accepting your vows of allegiance after the following proclamations. But first we are happy to announce that not only has the rightful heir come forward and claimed his birthright, a Princess of House Targaryen has also returned to our shores. You stand in the presence of Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen trueborn daughter of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella.”

Princess Daenerys rose from her seat and nodded her head a ceremonial smile on her face.

Davos coughed loudly to let them know his announcement was not finished yet. “I am also honoured to make known the betrothal of his Grace, King Aegon the Sixth of his Name with Princess Daenerys. A date for the wedding will be announced later.”

Now loud exclamations could be heard throughout the room. Not all well wishes, some were expressions of surprise or thinly veiled expressions of dismay. Jon made a point to stare Lady Olenna down until she averted her eyes. He gathered she was trying to discern his motivations for this betrothal. It wouldn’t matter if she did. It had been announced before the Court. There was no taking it back without causing a scandal.

“Next the King asked me to let it be known that the former Prince Renly of House Baratheon has received a full royal pardon. He will return to Storm’s End as a Lord. House Baratheon no longer ruling the Seven Kingdoms will forthwith revert to being a noble house of Lords and Ladies. The head of House Baratheon retains his position of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.”

“Also His Grace, King Aegon wants to express his thanks in public to House Stark and its allies that have protected him and given him shelter for many years, endangering their own loved ones while doing so. House Stark and consequently the North supported and financed all the actions that led to this day. Therefore effective immediately the Northern most Kingdom will be recognised as a Principality. All male members of House Stark will forthwith carry the title of Princess of the North, all female members are now Princesses of the North. 

Ser Gerold needed to intervene once more but this time it had little effect. Jon rose from his seat and held up his hand. When this didn’t silence the crowd immediately he clapped his hands twice. Immediately all eyes fell on him and the desired effect was achieved.

Jon made a small gesture to Davos making it clear he would like speak first.  
“My Prince,” Jon nodded in the direction of Prince Oberyn who stood prominently in the middle of the first row of the audience. Then his eyes drifted over the rest of the nobles. “My Lords, my ladies, let me take over from my Hand for a moment. He needed to make another announcement but I will gladly take that task upon myself.”

He looked down at his Kingsguard. “I am proud to reintroduce to you the loyal Kingsguards of House Targaryen. Three of them not only survived the Rebellion but were instrumental in keeping their King safe until the opportunity was there to reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen without bloodshed. You see before you Ser Gerold, Lord Commander of the Royal guard, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard and Ser Barristan Commander of the Dragonguard.”

“You have all come here today to witness House Targaryen claim its rightful place again and are given an opportunity to swear fealty to me as your new King. Those of you willing to do so before the Court in the presence of witnesses, will retain their titles and lands. Lord Seaworth to whom I owe my thanks for agreeing to be my Hand after years of serving me faithfully, will read out loud the names of those who have already gone before you.” 

Jon sat back down and Davos quickly opened the scroll that Ser Gerold handed him. 

“The following nobles have already pledged their sword and loyalty to King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk:  
The Warden of the North, Lord Eddard of House Stark, henceforth known as Prince Eddard of House Stark; the Regent of the Vale, Lord Yohn of House Royce. Prince Oberyn of House Martell has pledged his personal support and is confident the ruler of Dorne will soon follow his example. Next on the list is Lord Varys, the former Master of Whispers, who will take on the same position under the rule of King Aegon. Lord Wyman of House Manderly also deserves a special mention. He has been one of King Aegon’s loyal advisers and has officially been named the Master of Ships. All the men I mentioned just now including myself have been offered a position on King Aegon’s small council.” 

He coughed twice to avoid the murmurs from growing louder. The following persons have sworn their allegiance by letter and will come to the capital at their earliest convenience to do so in person: the Warden of the West, Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, Lord Hoster Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident. The ruler of the Iron Islands, Lady Yara of House Greyjoy. And last but not least Lord Howland of House Reed and House Celtigar of the Driftmark who deserve an honourable mention for having fostered our King at respectively Greywater Watch and the Driftmark.

Ser Gerold knocked the staff on the ground twice to put on end to the murmurs of the crowd who had started up again when Prince Oberyn’s allegiance was mentioned only to multiply when they heard Lord Tyrion Lannister’s name being called. Many had fallen silent when Lord Seaworth proclaimed Yara Greyjoy ruled the Iron Islands and recognised King Aegon as her sovereign. Jon took in all their reactions and wondered if they thought him young and naïve to trust King Robert’s former Master of Whispers enough to grant him the same position on his small council.

Davos eager to finish the part he needed to play spoke up again. “Many bannermen of the Crownlands, several of Dorne, the Riverlands and the North have sworn their allegiance to Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone and will now renew their vows to King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name. Each male present here today, representing a noble house of Westeros will get his turn to come before the King. Please do so in an orderly manner. Each one of you may approach upon receiving a signal from Ser Oswell.”

Jon stood again and the long and repetitious swearing of the oaths took place. Jon felt a bit uneasy looking down on everyone but kept his voice firm each time he accepted a vow and spoke the words that were expected from him. The only highlight was the fact that Lady Olenna needed to let her son represent House Tyrell and witness him struggle awkwardly through the ceremonial words. She had to keep her distance and could only follow her son out of the room when he had finished. Prince Oberyn winked and the young King relaxed his shoulders and continued with the tedious ceremony his heart a bit lighter. 

House Tyrell had been the only house ruling a Kingdom that had not been included in the list of nobles who had already made known that they acknowledged King Aegon’s reign. He was sure the Queen of Thorns had felt the slight most keenly. Soon she would become even more aware of the fact that she had not done her house a service by her blatant ambitious behaviour and that she owed it to her grandsons and to them alone that house Tyrell was still a ruling house. 

 

***

 

“We should have announced that you will not accept any private audiences your first sennight.” Ser Davos sighed. “More than half of the houses have asked to be granted a private interview.” They had all retreated to the room where the former Kings held their small council meetings.

“We’ll announce it in court tomorrow when we receive the next group of nobles to swear allegiance.” Jon suggested. “Unless there are requests on your list I can’t in good faith turn down?”

“You might consider receiving the elderly Lord Celtigar.” Sam looked up from the scrolls that were lying before him. “He asked for permission to return to Claws Isle as soon as possible. He brought the axe you requested.”

“Can we make time for him tomorrow or will that set a precedent and make us unable to turn down the other requests?” Jon looked at Davos and Varys for advice.

“Don’t second guess yourself, Jon. You are the King. If you have a reason to grant Lord Celtigar an audience for personal reasons, then by all means go ahead. They are a minor house anyway and nobody will suspect anything remiss by granting them an audience. Most likely they will ascribe it to their kinship with your foster-grandparents.”

“That is not common knowledge.” Jon’s protest sounded weak to his own ears.

“It is now that it was proclaimed before the entire court. Your Grace, even if we had omitted that part, everything about you will be common knowledge in a matter of days.” Varys cautioned the young King.

“Everything?” Jon looked uneasy when he addressed his Master of Whispers.

“Everything except your most private dealings. You are smart enough to know what I meant. It is no longer a secret that you lived at the Driftmark for several years. The island will prosper. The number of visitors will only increase further.”

“So to get back to the matter at hand,” Jon now addressed everyone present. “You all agree that I can safely allow the Celtigars an audience with Princess Daenerys, Lord Seaworth and myself on the morrow and still refuse to see any others until at least a next sennight will have passed. Can I see the list of the houses that asked for a private audience?” He looked at Dany who smiled and signalled she would be present.

Sam handed him a long list. 

“Why is there an asterisk before House Tyrell?” Jon asked Davos seeing that that line was written by him.

“Because they were most insistent. Lord Mace tried to temper his mother’s speech several times to no avail.” Davos answered and turned to Daenerys. “I hope you weren’t offended when I stated that the male representatives come forward, Princess.”

“Not at all, Lord Davos.” Princess Daenerys was quick to respond. “Aegon explained it to me shortly before the meeting started. Since there were no houses present today that were represented by a Lady, you made use of the word ‘male’ to further irritate Lady Olenna of House Tyrell. A bit petty perhaps, but I understand your frustration with her.”

“How do we answer House Tyrell’s demand for an audience?” Jon asked no one in particular.

“As far as I am concerned, you need not give in to any of the petitioners, Aegon.” Prince Oberyn offered his opinion. “Let the Tyrells just as all the other Lords bring their matters before the Court. That is safer. It will make them think twice on how they formulate their demands. You would do well not to take on Lady Olenna in private, certainly not now. Let her cool down a bit first.” The Dornish Prince was serious this time and eyed the young King with a concerned expression on his face..

Jon returned his gaze and nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your advice, Oberyn. And please be assured, if ever I grant her house a private audience, I will have at least two or more of my advisers present in the room. Private means only that they can speak to me _and_ my entourage without the other Houses hearing what they have to say.”

“I offer my time and presence gladly if ever you grant House Tyrell an audience in some distant future.” Oberyn’s eyes had regained some of their mischief.

“Only if I intend to refuse what they are offering. Somehow I think you would not be an asset in case I needed to obtain something from them.”

Oberyn covered his heart with both hands and pretended to stagger backwards. “Now you hurt my sensibilities, my most esteemed Sovereign. I would be of tremendous help to you. I would make sure they helped you without asking for disproportionate favours in return, my young King. When have I ever not been an asset to you?” He pouted in an exaggerated manner.

“It is better the two of us discuss that in private later. Perhaps you can spare me a few moments after this meeting is finished?” Jon’s tone was serious when he addressed the Dornish Prince.

“I am your servant, Aegon.” Oberyn bowed but Jon could almost hear the Prince thinking out loud. For once Oberyn didn’t know what to expect from a conversation.

“Now back to the matter at hand. No private audiences for the foreseeable future with the exception of House Celtigar. Davos, prepare a statement to announce that. You can add that when larger oath-taking sessions are behind us, say in two days, we will hold Court at regular times. I propose every other day for a start. They can bring their requests to me during those sessions.”

“And I’ll deliver a written answer to every house on this list.” Sam sighed.

“Can’t you get some assistants to help you with the copying of messages, Sam?” Jon asked.

“Perhaps I can organise that.” Lord Varys offered. “I have several ‘retired’ little birds that seek employment and have learned to write. They have served me faithfully for several years and are loyal to a fault.”

“Make it happen, Lord Varys. Thank you, that is very helpful.” Jon nodded his approval. “They can help with the less confidential matters.”

He looked around. “I think that is enough for today. Let us hold a small council meeting tomorrow morning. Afterwards, I’ll pay Robert Baratheon a short visit, in the afternoon more vows of allegiance in the throne room and then I suggest we hold a formal dinner to which we invite a first delegation of nobles who swore allegiance. Tonight I want a private dinner, just me, Dany, Davos, Uncle Ned and Sam. Any talk of politics will be strictly forbidden. Afterward I am going to try and connect with Rhaegal and Viserion and bring them to the Dragon Pit. Has that been prepared?”

“All will be ready by tomorrow afternoon, your Grace.” Yohn Royce spoke up. “To be honest, I must tell you I am having trouble finding another location that is suitable for the melee. That site was perfect.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon turned to Davos. “Are there caves along the beaches of King’s Landing that are big enough to shelter my dragons? If I am being honest, I did not like the suggestion of the Dragon Pit as a home for the dragons all that much in the first place.”

“There might be, most likely along the beaches bordering the Kingswood.” Lord Varys looked at the three knights who all looked a little out of depth. 

Jon didn’t hide his enthusiasm. “That sounds like a far better location for Rhaegal and Viserion. A large open space, beaches and I believe the woods are rather vast. Lord Royce, can you send some men to investigate the area tomorrow, please? If they find a suitable location, the melee can still take place in the Dragon Pit.”

“I’ll send riders out at first light. I’ll confer with Lord uh Prince Stark.” Lord Royce promised. 

His uncle nodded his head. Jon had noticed the new Prince of the North had been more taciturn than usual. The man seemed preoccupied. He made a mental not to find time to speak with his uncle in private. He smiled at Lord Royce.

“Excellent, then we can delay the rest of the topics and discuss them at our first official small council meeting tomorrow morning. Since my injury does not permit me to attend a training session yet, we can start right after I reviewed the new messages and we have all broken our fast. Do not mention anything to Maester Pycelle should he accost you. His position will be an item to be addressed at the meeting … that we will hold without him.”

One by one the men left the room until only Prince Oberyn and Jon remained. Jon intercepted Ned Stark in the doorway and asked him whether he was willing to join him in his quarters later. When his uncle nodded his assent, Jon promised that a servant would fetch him as soon as it was convenient. His uncle bowed slighthly and closed the door behind him. Jon immediately turned to face Prince Oberyn.

“How can I be of service, Aegon?” Prince Oberyn had installed himself in a cosy chair and had stretched his legs out in front of him. A full cup of wine stood on a small table within easy reach.

“What a dull afternoon. I liked the excitement of the morning better.” The Dornish Prince commented when Jon stayed silent. “I never heard so many nobles stammer on one single occasion.”

Jon ignored that statement and spoke up. “Oberyn, I mentioned before how grateful I am for all the services you have rendered me over the last few years, even if some of them were rather unconventional ones.”

“I sense a but coming.” Prince Oberyn lost all pretence of nonchalance.

Jon tried to find the right tone. “Not as much a but, as the fact that I want to be informed of all the schemes you still have in progress to advance my cause. I might have been able to soothe my conscience and tell myself I could not know everything my allies were doing on my behalf before. But now that I am King, I can be held responsible for the actions of my subjects. According to public opinion all those who have sworn their allegiance to me act on my orders. If some questionable action of yours come to light, there are only two possibilities, either I ordered them and am guilty or I didn’t and have to concede that I do not have my entourage in hand.”

“Sometimes it is better not to know all, Aegon. It is still plausible that your subjects acted without your knowledge or approval, you know. It is not a shame if you have to confess you did not know what I was doing. My reputation precedes me. People would believe you and sympathize with you.”

“Perhaps, but then they would also expect me to punish you. Will you tell me what you have been putting in motion lately? Let’s start with Willas Tyrell, shall we?” Jon saw Prince Oberyn’s eyes narrow.

“Varys told you?”

Jon neither affirmed nor denied. “Lord Stark received a raven from Riverrun. They said Lord Willas Tyrell needed to change his itinerary and from there, it was easy to find traces of your hand in matters.”

“Varys did tell you.” Prince Oberyn nodded thoughtfully. “Clever man, he would have known that it was time to ask for your cooperation for the second phase of that plan anyway.”

When Prince Oberyn stopped talking, Jon couldn’t help but gaze at the Prince in wonder. He knew they had talked about his plans to betroth Myrcella to Lord Willas Tyrell of House Tyrell on Dragonstone but how in the hells had the Prince been able to set a plan in motion with such speed. Jon was not sure what to think of that. Meanwhile Oberyn drank from his cup as if he had not a care in the realm. Jon took a deep breath and attempted to exude some authority.

“I concede that your interference in this instance worked out for the best and made us gain substantial time. However now I feel compelled to apologize to Lord Willas Tyrell for the unorthodox manner in which he was persuaded to change is destination. In future, I would like to be informed before you put such schemes in motion. That way I might still have a chance to moderate them a bit if I deem it necessary.”

“Perhaps,” Oberyn mimicked Jon’s earlier noncommittal way of answering him. His eyes danced with mirth which encouraged Jon to proceed.

“How were you capable of intercepting him at Seagard that fast?” Jon asked. “You could only have come up with the scheme after our small council meeting on Dragonstone.”

“During is more accurate.” A cocky smile adorned the Dornish Prince’s face for a moment. “Intercepting him was simple really. I sent a raven to one of our messengers. You are of course aware that we always have messengers standing by in all corners of your Kingdoms. That was one of your first contributions to our conspiracy if I am correct?”

Jon nodded and gestured for Oberyn to continue. The Prince was only too happy to oblige.

“The only thing I needed to do was to send a raven to our messenger at Seagard with instructions to intercept Lord Tyrell and tell him to change his destination. Now we only have to dispatch the royal decrees you have issued to Lannisport before his meeting with Lord Tyrion of House Lannister.”

“And an accompanying letter from my hand personally which expresses my gratefulness for his cooperation and an apology for…”

Oberyn interrupted by waving his hand in a dismissing gesture. “Yes, you told me that part already. Personally, I do not think Willas Tyrell will need an apology but by all means, do what you feel you must, your Eminence.” Again the title was uttered mockingly. 

“Any other schemes I should know about?” Jon kept his tone light as well. He gathered that was the best way to deal with the Dornish Prince.

The smug expression reappeared on Prince Oberyn’s face. “Remember how Lord Reed and our spies suddenly were more successful in gathering information about the goings on in the Stormlands?”

“The red Priestess miscarried, did she not?” Jon looked appalled at the thought that crossed his mind.

“Of course she did.” Prince Oberyn was quick to reassure the young man. “I did not murder an innocent babe in the womb of its mother, Aegon. I give you my word of honour. And if you think it through, you know that I speak true. The sequence of events in itself is proof enough. We did not have access to the Stormlands until after her powers diminished. I could only send my men in when she was already weakened. I did take advantage of her situation though and managed to see to it that her recovery has been hampered somewhat. Nothing too harmful, just something that keeps her from recovering fully for the time being. Varys’ birds have provided us with useful information ever since. He will tell you all about it during our small council meeting on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Oberyn. I apologize for my reaction earlier. It is just, the way you introduced the topic was somewhat ambiguous. You take delight in shocking me.”

“It is one of my guilty pleasures.” The Prince admitted readily and took another sip of his wine.

“Still your interference over there has been very helpful. It seems I will learn the full extent of how useful on the morrow. I can hardly wait. Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Aside from a few minor things like harassing Lord Walder of House Frey and the rumours that I am in the process of spreading throughout the Reach and Dorne, it might be worth mentioning that I have tricked my brother into abdicating. But don’t worry, as far as I know, he doesn’t realise it yet.” Oberyn looked like a cat that had just swallowed a very tasty bird.

Jon sat upright. “Do I need to drink a glass of wine first or will I be able to withstand the shock.”

“Allow me, Aegon.” Oberyn left his chair and found a spare cup on a shelf. He quickly filled it and handed it to the younger man. Then he took his own chalice in his hand and raised it. “Let’s toast to obtaining the alliance of Dorne!”

“We did?” Jon’s eyes widened in amazement.

“I’ll tell you all about it as soon as you reciprocate the toast.” Oberyn knew he had him hooked.

Jon raised his glass. “To the Kingdom of Dorne and the renewal of its pledge of fealty to House Targaryen and the Iron Throne.” He took a small sip of wine.

“Now tell me?” He asked not concealing his eagerness.

“Only if you drain your cup. The shock you know. I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of Ser Gerold or anyone else of your loyal entourage by endangering the health of their precious King.” Prince Oberyn chuckled softly and emptied his own cup as encouragement.

Jon drank deeply. “This is good wine. It is the stronger Dornish wine, is it not?” When Prince Oberyn nodded gleefully, Jon added. “Then I must take care not to drink too much of it at once. Last time I woke up with a terrible headache after almost compromising Dany’s virtue on the beach.” He stopped and covered his mouth with his left hand aghast at what he had just revealed.

Prince Oberyn’s eyes danced with mirth. “I didn’t know the wine would have such an immediate effect. Do not blush so readily, Aegon. I am sure it could not have been that bad. If you refer to that night we sat around the bonfire, you walked her home with two faithful shadows chaperoning you. I’m fairly sure that anything that might have happened would have remained very innocent by necessity. Wait until you have been married a fortnight, then I will feed you some more of this wine and we will revisit the subject.”

He filled the cup that the younger man had abandoned on the small table. “Here, I only allotted you half a portion this time. No need to accuse me of getting you drunk.”

“I think we wandered of topic.” Jon’s blush had only deepened with Oberyn’s further teasing. “I want to finish our conversation in time for dinner.”

“All right, I’ll try to keep the boasting to a minimum and just tell you what a unique, remarkable, praiseworthy accomplishment I can lay at your revered feet, your Grace.” The Prince’s grin put a smile on Jon’s face as well.

“I’ll ask Sam to explain the exact meaning of the words ‘to boast’ and ‘minimum’ to you. You might need some help in that department.” Jon kept up the banter. 

“And you in turn need lessons in keeping on topic and not interrupting significant discussions with very important individuals whose time and services are extremely valuable.” Prince Oberyn shot back.

Jon held up both hands in mock surrender. “All right, I give in. I might win in the training yard if ever you are willing to take me up on my repeated offers, but I readily concede that I am no match for you when we spar with words … yet.”

“How about a training session tomorrow morning, your Grace?” Oberyn’s eyes twinkled and his gaze dropped to Jon’s right thigh. “You would bite the dust before you could get two strikes in.”

“What can I do to persuade you to obey your King and esteemed Sovereign and spill the beans already?” Jon pretended to exert his royal authority using something resembling an admonishing tone. The amused chuckle he couldn’t hold in negated the effect though.

“Threaten me with fire and blood?” For once Oberyn’s joke fell flat. “No, ignore that. Here is a faithful account of how we tricked my older brother into abdicating.”

Oberyn told him in a few words how Prince Doran’s gout had progressed at an alarming rate, a fact they had used to persuade him to sign a decree by which he formally declared Arianne as his heir. To further convince him to put the obvious in writing, they had referred to the rumours that were the topic of conversation throughout Dorne and had even been heard as far as the Reach. According to those rumours, Prince Quentyn had been spreading lies about how his father wanted him to succeed him as ruler of Dorne but that his sister had burned the royal decree. 

Prince Doran effectively handing Arianne an official decree would prevent a civil war after his death. Prince Doran had been swayed and Prince Oberyn had drafted the document personally. His daughter Nymeria had delivered it to Dorne. The Prince boasted he had used invisible ink to conceal some key words that could be rendered visible when treated with a certain substance. Prince Doran had signed his abdication thinking it would take effect only after his death. A few hidden words added to a strategically placed sentence however made all the difference.

“And Princess Arianne is on board with all that?” Jon had retrieved his cup again and was carefully twirling it, admiring the ripples the deep red wine made.

“She is. I might have hinted at a possible betrothal of one of your future children with hers, but nothing in writing. You have full deniability.”

“Mmmh. And how will Prince Doran react if, I mean when he finds out?” Jon suddenly lifted his head and looked at the Prince. “Oberyn, when will he find out?”

“That will depend on how he reacts to the raven proclaiming you as King of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon. Don’t worry. I have planned for every eventuality. I still hope for the best possible outcome, namely that he will send my niece, Princess Arianne to King’s Landing to pledge you Dorne’s allegiance and support in his name.”

“Where on earth does one learn of the existence of invisible ink?” Oberyn’s versatility never ceased to amaze Jon.

“I picked only the more interesting topics to study at the Citadel.” 

If ever they painted a picture of Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, it would have to be one with that smug smile. It would not be a faithful rendition otherwise, Jon thought. Soon after, he ended the conversation. He still had several things to take care of today.

 

***

 

Jon was a little tipsy and mentally tired from his word games with Prince Oberyn when he retired to his chambers to dress for dinner. He had asked Ser Arthur to check if Prince Eddard had a few moments to spare for him now. He knew his uncle would join him for dinner but he wanted it to be a joyful occasion with as little talk of politics as possible.

“Your Grace?” His uncle announced his arrival at his doorstep.

“Close the door, Uncle. Then we are in private and you can address me as an equal, as your grown up nephew.”

His uncle nodded and as soon as the door was firmly closed, he accepted the seat Jon offered him. “What is troubling you, Jon? I thought we would meet at supper.”

“I hope to enjoy a relaxing supper in your company, Uncle. Supper should be a short reprieve from politics. That is precisely why I asked you to come here so we have a chance to clear the air beforehand. I am bouncing the question back to you. What is bothering me is that I do not know what is bothering you. I noticed you were somewhat out of sorts after the public audience. It cannot be because of the fact that you are now a Prince. You knew of my plans to make the North a principality for some time now.”

His uncle nodded stiffly. “It is not that. It is the fact that you announced in front of the entire Court that you offered me a position on your small council.”

“Which you can easily hand over to your younger brother. It would be beneficial for the North to have a representative on the small council, Uncle. And I can’t bypass you and offer the position directly to Uncle Benjen. You have first choice. But it remains a free choice. I haven’t forgotten our conversation in Robert Baratheon’s bedchamber. Do you still intend to return to the North after my coronation and wedding? I must admit I had hoped you might stay a bit longer and help us with the transition of power. Davos would greatly benefit from your experience. It will help him to hear about the duties you performed as Hand of King Robert.”

“I only acted as Hand for a few moons, Jon.” Lord Stark replied non-committedly.

“But you did it well. I will always welcome your advice and support, Uncle. Whatever you decide though, I will not stand in your way. Have you consulted with your Lady Wife?”

Ned sighed. “I don’t need to. I know her wishes all too well. She would thrive here in the South. I kind of promised her she would be allowed to follow me here once your reign was established and it was safe enough for her to vneture south. I also might have mentioned that she would be regarded as the second most important women in the realm.”

Jon nodded. “I had wondered why she did agree to stay behind without making much of a fuss.”

“She was not happy about it. Neither did she spare me her reproofs when I gave my permission to foster Bran at Greywater Watch. But that was nothing compared to the things she wrote to me when Prince Oberyn’s thoughtless message arrived containing hints of a possible fostering of Arya in Dorne. Only the distance between Winterfell and the Red Keep kept me from bodily harm then, I am sure.” Lord Stark tried to make light of the situation but Jon could see he was not happy about it either.

“Your word trumps Prince Oberyn’s in this matter, Uncle. Beside, Aunt Catelyn must have exaggerated. It was just an empty threat. Something to make her accept the swordfighter we hired as a teacher for Arya.”

“The Prince is not always as tactful as he should be. My wife needs a certain uh approach. He had better let me handle that business.”

Jon nodded. “I’ll talk to Prince Oberyn to make sure that he will treat your wife with all the respect she is due when they meet in person. Isn’t it better for everyone if you allowed your wife and children to come to the capital, Uncle? That way you would also get to stay here a few more moons.” Jon’s tone had softened. He would do all he could help his uncle who had left his family and had come to King’s Landing moons ago solely for Jon’s sake. He saw his uncle waver and attempted to make his proposal even more enticing.

“I will send her a personal invitation and will flatter her. She will be able to boast to all and sundry that she is the only Lady that received a personal invitation from her nephew, the King, who is eagerly awaiting her presence. She is welcome to stay on in the capital after you leave. I mean if you are keen to return to Winterfell before she is ready to head back. But that is for you to decide. I won’t interfere in your marital affairs.” Even though he could have found a better way of wording this, he hoped his uncle would understand that he only had his best interest at heart.

“I’ll think on it, Jon. The only thing I am sure of for now is that Benjen will only be too happy to assume the position on your small council. But I am sure you intended that outcome all along. Otherwise you would have told me that Lord Manderly’s position on the small council ensured us that the interests of the North are being looked after.” Ned couldn’t help the bitterness of his tone from becoming detectable. He would always remain a little jealous of his younger brother’s bond with their only nephew.

Jon withheld a sigh and kept a calm demeanor. “I can only repeat that you have first choice, Uncle. Had you agreed to become my Hand next to Davos or accepted a position on the small council, I would have easily found another useful occupation for Uncle Benjen. I won’t deny that I am ecstatic to learn that he will be here soon and will be present at my wedding and coronation ceremony. But to answer your veiled reprimand, I distinctly remember that you once told me that Lord Manderly has many qualities and is a fountain of wisdom when we’re talking about trade and ships. When it pertains to matters of the North however, he is not a real Northerner and White Harbour’s way of life is very different to the harsh living conditions elsewhere in the North.”

His uncle stayed silent and Jon saw him relent as he relaxed in his chair. “I’m sorry, Jon. I didn’t mean to sound petty. I need to recover from all the stress of the past several moons. I apologise.”

“I understand, Uncle. And to add insult to injury, you are about to bury one of your youth friends. As I said before and more than once, I asked you to perform a very difficult task and you did it for me without hesitating. I will be forever indebted to you.” Jon looked very solemn when he spoke his next words in a soft but sincere manner. “Uncle, surely you must know that I looked up to you from a very young age. I worshipped you long before I knew you were my uncle. Never doubt that I greatly esteem and love you.”

His uncle was clearly mollified and touched by Jon’s words. He swallowed thickly before answering. “That goes both ways, Jon. You have repaid me in full already. The North will prosper because of your decree. I am glad you left out the part about the tax exoneration during the public announcement.”

“They will learn that eventually. I thought it preferable not to draw attention to it now.”

Both men contemplated each other. “The North is family, Uncle.” Jon added quietly. “You are pack. Don’t forget that. Pride has no place between us. If ever you need something from me, just ask. If ever you disagree with something, just speak up.”

“Same here, Nephew.” Eddard Stark rose from his chair and Jon followed suit. His uncle gave Jon a quick hug. “Now make yourself ready. I am hungry.” Ned turned to the door.

“Oh, Uncle, before you leave, Dany wanted me to inform you that Lady Ashara of House Dayne will join us for dinner. Dany invited her as a favour to Ser Arthur but also to have another female present. Lady Dayne has expressed the wish to renew your acquaintance.”

Jon sighed when his uncle left the room. There had been no opportunity to talk about Robb. His uncle had been in a strange mood and there had not been enough time anyway. He would need to find another opportunity to speak with him in private. He also had refrained from asking him about Lady Ashara’s history with the Stark family. 

It had not gone unnoticed to Jon that his uncle had startled and grown pale when he had mentioned that she would be present at dinner. Perhaps he was right when he had first guessed that the Lady had never married because she had been in love with his deceased Uncle Brandon. With all that had occurred over the last two days he had forgotten to ask Ser Arthur about that. He would keep his eyes and ears open during dinner. Perhaps he would learn something more. He would ask Dany’s opinion when they talked some more after dinner. They had promised to meet each other again before retiring for the night and he already looked forward to it.

 

 

**Interlude 35: A storm is brewing**

Stannis entered the chamber where the Red Priestess could be found at this time of day. It was a room high up in the South tower that had a solar. He had come to notice that she enjoyed the sun on her skin for long periods of time. When he had asked her about that once, she had proclaimed that it was the Lord of Light’s way of gifting his energy to her. He enjoyed seeing her lying there naked and always made sure to visit her when the sun was not hidden by the clouds if at all possible.

Melisandre did not startle. He knew she had come to expect his visits, perhaps even craved them. The Red Priestess had no qualms about her nudity. Essosi were different. He would never condone such conduct from his highborn wife. He frowned when he thought of Selyse. She hadn’t spoken to him ever since he had refused to allow her to join her daughter in King’s Landing. He was certain she had been the one to set Shireen on her way. He had no proof of it and that was a good thing. He was glad none of the men had come forward to betray her. It would have put him in an awkward position.

Selyse had actually done him a favour. The temptation had been great to use his daughter’s royal blood to obtain another favour from the Lord of Light. Shireen was the only one left with royal blood except for himself. Melisandre had pointed out that his wife was only a Queen by marriage when he had reluctantly suggested it might be easier to part from her than from his daughter. 

At first he had not believed the Red Priestess when she had told him that she could get better visions when she offered royal blood to R’hllor. However, he had not been able to ignore the results that the burning of Edric Storm had yielded. That night Melisandre had given him various visions of the future. And almost all had come to pass. She had not lied to him. He was the chosen one. R’hllor favoured him above all others. 

Spies of Lord Varys had been found. Traitors had been detected and punished. As foretold by her visions, powerful men were offering their alliance and his brother had died an untimely death. Ever since his brother’s demise had been confirmed, he had proclaimed himself King. He ignored the new decree his brother had issued supposedly free of will. Only a fool would fall for that. Soon the bastard Dragonrider who falsely claimed to be the rightful heir would feel his wrath. He was the true heir. The Lord of Light supported his claim.

He needed the might of the Seven Kingdoms to stop the Darkness. That had been Melisandre’s last vision before she had miscarried: the death of her brother and the shift in the prophecy. It was no longer a Prince That Was Promised but a King. A King was necessary to defeat the King of Darkness. One half of the prophecy had already been fulfilled. Now he needed to act, help the Gods to fulfil the other requirement. He needed to gain control of the Seven Kingdoms. He needed to chase away, annihilate, burn, yes burn the false claimant and offer him up to the Lord of Light.

“Your Grace?” Melisandre had been watching the emotions shift on Stannis Baratheon’s face and had sensed his growing anger.

“Melisandre.” He greeted her and let his eyes rove over her body. She had chastely crossed her legs so he had to be content with admiring her voluptuous breasts and broad hips. “I have come to enquire after your health. Has the Lord of Light been able to reach you yet?”

“Not yet, my King. I can’t explain why I am still so weak. The tonic the healer gave me did wonders at first but lately I am starting to despair. I can drink as much as I want but I do not feel one bit better.”

Stannis’ frown had deepened when he heard these words. His anger already simmering got the better of him when he spotted the pitchers of the liquid. In two swift steps he was close the small table, swept them up and threw them out of the window. Even though Melisandre could not hear them, she could vividly picture the pitchers crashing against the stones and rocks, dropping ever further down until they sank beneath the violent waves of Shipbreaker Bay. 

“And here I thought you were smart, woman. Most likely someone switched your tonics. You told me yourself not to trust anyone. I will send you a portion of the food prepared for me by my trusted manservant. Nobody will dare poison my food. I’ll visit you again in two days. You better have news for me then.”

He turned abruptly, leaving a speechless Melisandre behind.

 

***

 

This time a heavy storm was raging outside when the King showed up for his promised visit. Melisandre could hear the rain and wind hitting the walls of the castle. It was not only the lack of heavenly warmth that occupied her mind. Most likely the next morning would bring the report of yet another fishing boat having gone down with all hands. Melisandre was fully dressed when the King opened the door of her chamber. She could sense his disappointment when he took in her heavy robes. She quickly assumed a sitting position taking care to cover her legs with the folds of her dress.

“My lady,” he greeted her stiffly. “I heard you were doing better.”

“I am, thank you, my King. Soon I will be able to go outside and wander about in the gardens. I am itching to make a large bonfire on the beach.”

“Has the Lord of Light spoken to you yet?” Stannis Baratheon never lost time with inanities.

“Not clearly but I have been sensing things. Good, bad, my intuition is returning. I am bored as hell though, your Grace. Can you tell me the news of King’s Landing?”

“That dragon bastard apparently has Stark blood and the support of every Kingdom north of here. They even claim he has allied himself with Yara Greyjoy who has stolen the Iron Islands from Euron Greyjoy.”

“Euron Greyjoy,” she repeated the name and a shiver ran over her. “Beware your Grace. I have a bad feeling about him. I will try to ask the Lord of Light for His guidance.”

“I don’t care about a feeling. I need something more substantial to turn the man down. He has made me a most astounding proposition.” 

“He is a non-believer, a savage. What can he have to offer your Grace?” Melisandre had been taken aback by his gruff tone.

“A means to subdue a dragon. We will need that if we want to take the throne away from the boy King.” Stannis was quick to explain his tone clearly indicating that his mind was almost made up already.

“I thought you were calling your banners and had tentative offers of alliance from a few Lords of Dorne, the Reach and had even the prospect of support from part of the Riverlands? Do you really need the alliance of an Ironborn?” Apparently she had missed several developments since her confinement. Before, she used to sit in on all his meeting. Now she had to work hard to extract the tiniest piece of information from him. It was high time that she left the confines of this chamber.

“Tentative offers are all I have. I am sure they would be more eager to decide in our favour if there were no dragons to contend with. Nobody wants to face two full grown dragons on a battlefield.”

“And you believe Euron Greyjoy has a means of defeating them? How can that be?” She adjusted the furs behind her head. She had enough of a disadvantage already and did not want to suffer from a stiff neck for days because he loomed over her and she needed to strain her neck to look into his eyes.

“Not to defeat them, something much better. He claims he has this magical object that can control dragons. He will be able to compel them to do his bidding. It won’t matter that the boy-usurper has the support of many kingdoms. If the dragons fight on our side, the rest of the Kingdoms will rally to us like bees to honey.”

Melisandre studies the man before her for some time. “And now you want me to tell you if Euron Greyjoy speaks the truth. And if so, you are also asking for the blessing of the Lord of Light to involve yourself with dark magic. Do I have that right?” Her voice sounded sharper than she intended.

“It would make me sleep better at night, yes.” He was quick to admit. 

She knew only too well how he loathed magic and had only started using her services because she had seduced him into it and had luckily provided him with a few small but convincing results almost instantly. “Then come back tomorrow, my King. I will keep vigil before the flames of the fireplace the entire night. I hope R’hllor will have spoken to me before the dawn chases away the darkness tomorrow morning.”

 

***

 

That night Melisandre’s efforts were rewarded. The Lord of Light showed her a translucently clear vision in the flames. No longer biased by the lust her body had felt for Stannis, she studied the figure in the flames more closely. In a frozen place very far from here it was a much younger man that was battling the Darkness with a magic sword. She had been confused by the flames though. All her visions were surrounded by flames but this time it almost seemed as if the fire was an integral part of the vision. Words formed in her head. _‘The true hero’s song is one of Ice and Fire. A King to defeat a King’._

Ever since her conversations with Thoros of Myr, feelings of doubt had slowly been creeping up on her until they had consumed her every thought. At first she had cursed the man and blamed him for her miscarriage, for letting her waver in her conviction and faith. Now she knew better. She had wrongly interpreted what had been revealed to her in the flames. Somehow her fascination with Stannis Baratheon had blinded her to the real meaning of what R’hllor had been trying to warn her about. Thoros of Myr had been right. Stannis was a False Prince. She was serving the wrong King. She needed to find a way to leave the Stormlands. She needed to head north. The true hero would travel north when the time was right and she would have to be there to guide him. The True King, born of Ice and Fire would need her assistance. Or more precisely, she would bring him the help of the Lord of Light.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter describes Jon's second day as King of the Seven Kingdoms. In the interlude, Varys and Oberyn are up to their old tricks.


	36. The second day in the reign of King Aegon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I retconned a scene in chapter 10: Rite of passage part two. Having spent more than 35 chapters with my protagonist, I felt that that particular scene was a bit off and went against Jon’s character. You don’t necessarily have to go back and read it. The changes will become clear while reading this chapter since they will be mentioned in a discussion between Jon and Dany. 
> 
> Still publishing without my beta for now.  
> Next chapter will be posted in two weeks.

*

Jon was smiling when he dressed the next morning. Ser Arthur had needed to send a maid to fetch his outfit in his chambers where Dany was still asleep. He and Dany had talked till deep in the night until Jon had stopped mid-sentence when he had heard a soft snore. Dany had fallen asleep in his bed, fully clothed, with her head on his chest. He had freed his arm, put her head down and covered her with the bed furs. Then he had fetched Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell who were on guard duty in the hallway. They had agreed to Jon’s request to let her stay there and had moved their Prince to a modest room nearby.

Despite being reminded to do so often, Jon had still not chosen a manservant. If it were up to him he would hold off on that as long as possible. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself and he knew that neither Ser Arthur nor Ser Oswell minded very much to help him with some small detail or other. He would miss those private times when he eventually needed to give in. 

This morning Ser Arthur was assisting him with putting on his boot on his right foot so Jon would not need to bend that leg too much. When he looked down at Ser Arthur he remembered the conversation he had had with Dany last night about the strange tension that had initially hung over dinner.

Dany had also noticed the tension that had hung around his dinner companions at first. According to her, things had gotten more relaxed as soon as she had engaged Lady Ashara in a conversation and had made her describe the beauty of the lands surrounding Starfall. Jon had admitted he had never seen his uncle that socially inept with a female as he had been during the first part of their meal. Eventually Uncle Ned had recovered enough to join in the conversation and had seemingly overcompensated by entertaining them with the story of how the three Stark brothers had been introduced to Lady Ashara at the infamous tourney of Harrenhal. 

Lady Ashara had helped him out by adding a few more details to his tale. She had smiled and had told them how all three Stark brothers had been quick to secure her hand for a dance. She highlighted how a rather young Benjen Stark had been very nervous and oh so very much honoured that she had accepted a dance with him. His uncle had then taken over again and didn’t spare his brother’s sensibilities when he recounted how the youngest Stark had forgotten the steps of the very simple dance and had tripped over Lady Ashara’s feet several times. 

Dany had taken note that Lady Ashara had offered no particulars on her dances with either Brandon or Ned Stark. Jon and Dany had speculated about that a bit last night. However, without further information, they were still left guessing whether there had been something going on between Lady Ashara and the handsome Brandon Stark back then or not.

“Ser Arthur, were you aware that my Stark uncles knew your sister?” He asked and was perplexed when he saw the knight stiffen.

“Of course. I was there when they were all were introduced. Why do you ask?” 

Ser Arthur’s bland reply for some reason made Jon more convinced than ever that they all knew something that he did not.

“Did she favour Uncle Brandon back then?” Jon asked. “Uncle Ned told me often enough how all the ladies admired his elder brother and never really noticed him.”

“I will not discuss my sister’s past. It is hers alone to reveal. Will that be all, my King?” Ser Arthur having fastened the laces on Jon’s right booth rose swiftly and headed for the door.

“I’m sorry, Ser Arthur. Please do not be offended. I won’t bring up the subject again.” Jon was quick to apologize. He would tell Dany about the knight’s strange reaction though. She would not speak to anyone about it if he asked for discretion.

“It is I who should apologize, my King. I only had a few hours of sleep and I am very protective of my sister. She has been gossiped about her entire live and uh well uh I am very protective of her.” He finished awkwardly, obviously regretting his abrupt reaction.

“I understand. Please consider this matter closed.” Jon was quick to reassure his loyal Kingsguard and friend. Let’s head to the room where they serve breakfast in this large place. We are all of us much more diplomatic when we have something in our stomach.”

 

***

 

Jon sat at the head of the large table ready to start the first official meeting of his small council. Davos, now Lord Seaworth sat opposite him the farthest away of them all but directly in his line of vision. Sam sat at his right side, Dany at his left. Only after Prince Oberyn, Prince Stark, Lord Royce, and Varys had chosen a seat, did Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur sit down. Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell guarded the door from the outside.

Jon smiled at them all. “This is not so different if you compare it to all the other meetings we held, is it? Just perhaps the fact that Prince Stark has agreed to attend.”

Davos coughed. “First order of business is to define the members of the small council, your Grace.”

“No need for titles, Davos. And yes, that is indeed the first thing we need to make clear. I of course, will take an active part in all meetings for as far as my other duties allow. Lord Seaworth is my Hand, Yohn Royce my Master of Laws, Lord Manderly absent for the time being is my Master of Ships. His presence will not be required often and he can divide his time between the capital and White Harbour. The same applies for Yohn Royce although his presence will be required when a major trial needs a chairman.”

Jon took a sip from his cup. Since he had foreseen this meeting would be a lengthy one, he had ordered pitchers filled with fresh water and enough cups to be brought in her before the meeting started. 

“Prince Oberyn will represent the interests of the Kingdom of Dorne and has chosen not to take on extra duties, Ser Gerold will attend as Lord Commander of the Royal guard, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan will be allowed to attend these meetings on personal invitation when deemed necessary and the Princess of course may attend at will.” He smiled at Dany before continuing.

“That leaves us with several issues. First, I do not want to use Grand Maester Pycelle’s services. If you want me to refrain from calling him an incompetent whoring fool to his face, you will need to come up with a dignified way to give him another duty that keeps him out of my sight. That is one. We will also have to find a competent Master of Coin, and an intermediary solution for the post of Grand Maester, and we have to decide how to ascertain that the other Kingdoms’ interests are fairly represented without having the moniker ‘small’ council no longer fit this meeting.”

Varys spoke up. “Grand Maester Pycelle might be persuaded to spend the rest of his days at the Citadel writing a book detailing all his experiences as a Grand Maester. He has served four Kings and wouldn’t it be a shame if all that history was lost to posterity. Leave it to me, your Grace. I have ample means of persuading him. He will be on a ship bound for Old Town before you know it.”

Jon nodded at his Master of Whispers. “Thank you, Lord Varys. Now for the other issues, how urgent is the appointment of a Master of Coin? I have heard several accounts of Lord Tyrion Lannister having a keen financial mind but I would like to take his measure first before granting him this position. I have sent an ambassador who amongst other things will present him with the legalisation papers for his nephew and niece and will invite him to the come to the capital to swear his allegiance. But he probably won’t be here for another three sennights.”

“Not an obvious choice but one I could approve of.” Prince Oberyn offered his opinion.

“I am not sure that that is a recommendation.” Ser Gerold muttered under his breath but loud enough for most to hear.

“He did help us with the allegations of fraud against Littlefinger. He deciphered those ledgers in no time.” Jon defended his candidate. He turned to his left. “Uncle Ned, what can you tell us of the current finances of the Crown and the state of our war fund?”

Eddard Stark exchanged a short glance with Varys before answering. “The finances of the Crown are in a deplorable state. Our war fund, well, there is still a rather large reserve but be aware that in the near future that will no longer be replenished as easily as before. Bottom line, as long as you don’t start outrageously expensive projects before a Master of Coin has been appointed, you can afford to take your time. With your Grace’s permission, I will bring your Hand up to speed on recent events regarding the war fund and the debts the former King left behind after this meeting.”

Jon almost rolled his eyes at the formal way they were dealing with each other. He had fond memories of Sandor calling their bullshit when they had been using language not even half as formal as some of the phrases used now. “I thank you, Uncle. That would be appreciated. But can you tell all of us present here how much debt we have inherited from Robert Baratheon’s reign? Had not a massive loan from House Lannister recently been uh let’s call it ‘paid in full’ by all the concessions we granted them?”

“There is still the debt with the Iron Bank of Braavos. Luckily it is not that substantial. I am sure we will be able to get an extension if we can prove to them we can not only keep the peace but also improve the way Westeros is governed.”

“Peace is not yet assured, Prince Stark.” Davos cautioned.

“Can’t we repay the debt and be done with it?” Jon asked no one in particular.

“That would be unwise, my King.” Varys spoke up now. “Better keep our resources separate. It is better to set our war fund apart from the official finances of the Crown that are noted in the ledger.”

“I hate to start my reign with dubious transactions.” Jon objected.

“Jon, let’s table this discussion for afterward. You know I had to promise never to disclose some things to certain parties.” His uncle looked at him with a pleading expression in his dark grey eyes.

Jon pursed his lips and nodded. He exchanged a frustrated look with Davos who took charge.

“Before we proceed to the next topic, does anyone have a better candidate for Maester of Coin to put forward?” 

When nobody offered up any names Jon took a deep breath and turned to Sam. “Then we are a Grand Maester short. As high as I rate the invaluable services of Sam, neither the Citadel nor the realm will see this my way. Sam has agreed to complete an important task for me first. Upon completion, he will officially starting the forging of his links at the Citadel.” 

He smiled reassuringly at his friend and then addressed the room. “I will use my influence to speed up this process for him. He has already gained enough knowledge to take several tests and forge his first links almost immediately upon arrival there. Still we must be realistic. He will be gone for a couple of years. We will need to use the services of another Maester in the meantime, preferably one willing to serve me without gaining the title of Grand Maester and stepping aside once Sam completes his chain.”

“What about Maester Pylos?” Dany offered timidly. “I know you all ignored him most of the time on Dragonstone but I spoke with him at several opportunities. As far as I can tell he is intelligent and not overly ambitious. I have witnessed first-hand that he has common sense and acts with decency and honour even though he had every cause to feel slighted.”

Jon grasped Dany’s hand under the table and caressed it to express his appreciation with her proposal as he addressed his question to everyone present. “I would indeed prefer someone we know to a complete foreigner chosen by the Citadel. But what about the people on Dragonstone? They need a Maester as well.”

”The way I see it, the Citadel needs to send out at least one new Maester.” Prince Oberyn was quick to offer his advice. “Have an honest conversation with Maester Pylos. Inform him that as soon as Sam has obtained his Maester’s chain, you will have two Maesters to do your bidding. With Seven Kingdoms to administer, they will both be glad for each other’s assistance. If Maester Pylos agrees, just inform the Citadel that you took him with you and that they need to send a new Maester to Dragonstone.” 

Jon looked at Sam. who nodded uncomfortably. Clearly his friend was ill at ease being the main cause of this issue. Jon gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll send a raven to Maester Pylos that he can expect me shortly after my wedding to discuss a few matters.” 

Since nobody had anything further to add, Jon quickly moved ahead. “That just leaves the matter of how to represent the interest of each of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“It is not necessary to have each of them represented on your small council, Jon.” His uncle spoke up now. “A small council can only rule effectively if it consists of a limited number of men or uh women,” he added awkwardly his gaze lingering on the Princess for a short moment. “It is very important that you choose people who work well together and are at your disposal when you need them. Also, the more members, the more chances that opinions will differ. It will complicate decisions and make for tedious meetings. As long as you make sure each Kingdom can bring their issues before the small council, then all is as it should be. Just make sure that they are aware that they can be heard if necessary.”

“How about holding a larger council where all Seven Kingdoms are duly represented, let’s say once a year with the possibility of organising another one if circumstance call for it?” Again it was Dany who presented the idea.

“That might work for most matters.” Jon immediately supported her. “But when a delicate issue arises, they must be able to appeal to us and get a ruling without the other Kingdoms butting in.”

“So,” Davos spoke up now his tone slightly admonishing. “If I understand this correctly, you establish a small council with only four core members you want present all the time, myself, Varys, Ser Gerold and a Maester. The rest can attend when they are in the capital or whenever it takes their fancy?”

“That sounds rather harsh when you spell it out like that. “ Jon was taken aback by that comment for a moment and mentally reviewed how he had presented it. He swallowed. “I will make every effort to attend and will only be absent when I am travelling on official business for the Crown or defending my Kingdoms on a battlefield. My imminent short honeymoon of course will be the exception. I hope I can depend on all the other members to attend regularly. And don’t forget there will also be a Master of Coin in the near future.”

“I would prefer to establish some sort of minimal requirement of attendance for every member. Let’s say they need to be present for at least half of the meetings calculated over a period of a year?” Davos didn’t relent.

Jon looked out of his depth for a moment. His uncle stepped in. He used his experience of moons governing Westeros to proclaim in a calm voice but with absolute conviction. “Jon, don’t lose time over these smaller details. You need to establish your rule first. You will need everyone’s help in these first few moons. This is a learning period. Your small council can address this matter later.” 

Everyone nodded. And Jon looked relieved. “Thank you, Uncle. That is wise advice. Can we consider the matter of the founding of our small council finished for now and move on to the next topic?”

“Of course,” Ser Davos accepting the verdict looked at his scroll and spoke up. “Lord Varys, how are the first reactions amongst the servants and the smallfolk living in the city.”

“Mostly favourable, I am happy to say. There were a few small skirmishes but overall the people are accepting the change in power. Most of them have fond memories of your father, my King.”

“Ser Gerold, do you have something to add?” Jon asked his Lord Commander.

“It is as Varys says. A few minor skirmishes easily stopped by the City Watch. For now we need to stay vigilant. Troublemakers are by nature cowards. They tend to grow their numbers first before attempting anything substantial. All the guards and servants in the keep have sworn allegiance. As little as two guards hailing from the Stormlands have disappeared. King Robert’s Kingsguard have petitioned for a position in your Kingsguard. I am not willing to grant them that. Perhaps they can be given a position in the household guard.”

Jon nodded. “Handle that any way you deem fit, Ser Gerold. I think we all are of one mind on this. It is imperative that only men we know and trust absolutely are to guard Dany and me.” He addressed the room at large when he tackled the next issue. “Lord Royce, can you handle the increase of visiting Lords over the next few sennights?”

“We have asked the Lords in the neighbouring lands to lend us their tents. I am afraid some highborn Lords and their kin will need to sleep in tents. It can’t be helped.”

“Then see to it that they have ample food and that the camps are organised in an orderly manner as much as you can control. We do not need unsavoury conditions and illness to spread out.” Jon ordered.

“Contact the nobles living in the city and ask if the can take in some of the more important Lords.” Davos advised Lord Royce.

Lord Royce shook his head and sighed. “I already did that when the tournament turned out to be more popular than expected.” When he met the stern look of Lord Seaworth he added reluctantly. “I will contact them again.”

Jon understanding Lord Royce’s predicament offered him his help. “I will give you a written royal request to show to the owners of the larger mansions. Perhaps they will make an extra effort if they get some recognition from their newly proclaimed sovereign. We could promise them an invitation to a dinner in the Red Keep preceded by a short private audience with the King. They can also expect to receive a few words of royal gratitude in front of witnesses during the banquet.”

Lord Royce nodded gratefully. “That would sway most of them to make the extra effort. Thank you, your Grace.”

“Can’t we use some of Peter Baelish’s former brothels?” Prince Oberyn suggested.

“I’ll look into it.” Lord Royce sighed. “I might require more assistance. Thoros of Myr and I can only do so much in one day.”

“Take Cassel with you.” Eddard Stark was also keen to help his ally and friend out. “He has grown familiar with the City and can recommend you the services of some female members of my houseguard who travelled with their husbands to King’s Landing. I can only imagine the work to be done to transform the brothels into adequate quarters for Lords and Ladies.” 

“By that comment, I can only surmise you have never set foot inside one of Littlefinger’s brothels, Prince of the North.” Prince Oberyn commented amused. “Those establishment you want to _'transform'_ are most likely more luxurious than the average home of a noble family here in the capital.” 

“I concur,” Varys piped up. “It will probably be enough to remove a few of the more suggestive ornaments.”

“Then see to it.” Jon ordered Lord Royce. He was ready to declare the subject closed when Lord Royce coughed. “Your Grace, Lord Tarly, did one of you by any chance review the list of competitors for the joust? More in particular the younger Lords who qualified by way of the pre-tournament?”

Jon looked at Sam and they both shook their heads. “Why do you bring that up, Lord Royce?” Jon asked. When he saw the man frown and swallow.

Ser Gerold straightened his back. “If there is a threat to the King then why was I not informed?”

“Not a threat as such, Ser Gerold.” Lord Royce looked rather uncomfortable now. “Perhaps a delicate situation is a better way of phrasing it. Lord Dickon of House Tarly is one of the contestants.”

“Dickon is here in the Capital?” Sam’s face lit up for a second only to darken again and a large frown appeared on his forehead. “My father is still on the list of Lords who have not yet announced their imminent visit nor has he sent a promise of his allegiance by raven. Dickon has not shown up at Court either.” He hesitated and looked at Jon who could see his friend was starting to panic. “What does that mean for my brother, Jon? Will you summon him? Use him as a hostage?”

Jon looking rather grave exchanged glances with Ser Davos before answering in a composed manner. “At the very least I would want a word with him, Sam. And I would like for you and Davos to be present. Let’s hear him out first.”

“I don’t know if he is aware that I am a part of your inner circle, I mean uh. Never mind. I also don’t think he is aware yet of the real reason I left for the Wall.”

“I want to surprise him with your presence, Sam. That will make it easier for us to have the upper hand in the conversation and get a genuine reaction out of him. I won’t reveal your father’s part in your exile from Horn Hill. I leave you to decide how much you want him to know about that.” 

Jon turned to Lord Royce. Can you see that Dickon Tarly receives a summon and is escorted to the Red Keep. I guess I will be granting another private audience this afternoon. I’ll receive him after the delegation from Craw isle.

Jon now turned to his uncle. “How is Robert Baratheon faring? How much longer will he remain alive and conscious?”

“Two days at the most.” His uncle answered. “You promised him a visit and he has asked to see me immediately afterwards.”

“Then we will do that first thing after this meeting.” Jon nodded at his uncle and reckoned Dany had been right when she had whispered to him during breakfast that Lord Stark looked as if he had not slept and most probably had spent the night at the bedside of Lord Baratheon. “What can you tell me about the Reach?”

“Except for the fact that they want a private audience?” His uncle asked.

“Except from that.” Jon nodded.

“Rumours are that they are planning to raise the prices of their food. Rumours courtesy of Lord Varys.” His uncle added giving credit where it was due. “It is the only real power play left to them now. You are betrothed so they lose all immediate chance of advancing their status. They lost status to The North, The Vale and it probably hurt their pride even more to learn that Prince Oberyn is a member of your inner circle. You also gave some smaller houses an honourable mention and they were completely passed over. Lady Tyrell is a cornered animal and is using her only defenses left.” 

Jon looked at his uncle with astonishment and totally missed the silent exchange of looks and small gestures between Varys and Prince Oberyn. “What about the betrothal negotiations between your houses?”

“I haven’t contacted her again and she is smart enough to realise that she hesitated too long and that House Stark is now in a much stronger negotiating position. My sons and daughters are Princes and Princesses of the North. They are also cousins to the new King and will be in high demand now, even more than before.”

“Well there are still enough Freys she can choose from as we all well know.” Ser Arthur laughed and everyone relaxed for a moment.”

“I need to find a way to rebuff her without punishing her grandchildren. And I think I just had a most fitting idea.” Jon smiled mysteriously and Prince Oberyn nodded approvingly.

The meeting went on for some time covering mostly safety issues and getting everything organised for the coming festivities. They reviewed the list of nobles present and added the more recent arrivals. This list was then used to issue invitations to large banquets hey would hold every other night where nobles would be allowed to talk to their King in a less formal setting. They drafted the King’s itinerary over the next few days allowing for time to screen new messages, refresh his knowledge on the visitors and make a public appearance in the city. Jon made sure there was time set aside to visit his dragons with Dany at least every other day.

The next topic on the agenda was the rather complicated situation in the Stormlands. Jon noticed everyone looked tired and their attention had been waning on and off. When he suggested adjourning the meeting and continue the next morning, they were all quick to agree. 

Chairs scraped over the stone floor and everyone proceeded to leave the room. Jon quickly intercepted Davos and his uncle and requested them to stay behind for a moment. Dany looked at Jon, a question in her eyes but Jon whispered in her ear that he would join her afterwards. He waited until the door fell closed behind her before addressing his uncle.

“No better time than the present to discuss what is happening with the war fund and tell Davos what that is all about, Uncle Ned.”

Much to his surprise his uncle cooperated immediately. “I agree. But let us sit down and have a cup of wine first. I asked a servant to bring us one.”

A bit later they had all been served and sat close together. Davos looked curiously at the way Prince Stark was twirling his cup nervously. He tried to put the newly proclaimed Prince at ease. “It can’t be as bad as all that now can it, Ned. We all go a long way and are friends are we not?” 

Ned Stark exhaled slowly. “It was an extraordinary coincidence that started everything.” He looked at Jon. “I never told you all the details, just the outcome.”

Jon put his hand on his uncle’s shoulder for a short moment. “Just tell us, Uncle. I think I guessed anyway and I am sure Davos here will vastly appreciate the irony.” 

Ned looked at Davos. “Do you recall how the Mountain ended up being punished for his crimes?”

“I did.” Davos looked curious now.

“Well at the same time a team of ours went after Lord Tywin of House Lannister. He was rather easy to track down. When at the Rock, he had the same strict routine. Our men managed to corner him during one of his inspections of his gold mines. Apparently they had found a new vein in a shaft that had been abandoned for … I don’t know exactly how long ago. Suffice it to say it was a very rich vein a bit out of the way of the main area where the Lannisters mined their gold those days. To be more exact, the shaft where the discovery was made had to be accessed by a separate entrance at the other side of the mountain. When my men caught up with Lord Lannister he was conferring with his overseer in that remote area.”

Davos nodded sensing where the story was headed, but kept silent letting Ned Stark tell it at his own pace.

“When Tywin Lannister understood the predicament he was in, he bargained for his life. They kept him a prisoner until Benjen and Howland Reed arrived. I will spare you the details of the negotiations. I will only tell you that our main argument was that nothing could compensate for the murder of Princess Elia and her two royal children, nor would the Dornish ever be appeased before they extracted their revenge upon him. In the end, in exchange for his life, he signed away all rights to the newly discovered vein but under the condition that we would keep it a secret from his heirs and the other Kingdoms so House Lannister would not lose even more face over this. He agreed to live in exile and swore not to leave the place we chose to send him to. He also promised not to reveal his identity or whereabouts to anyone. We sent him to a location where he is nobody, has no resources to return. He knows we are keeping an eye on him and that he will only be allowed to come back to Westeros if we pardon him. When everything was settled in writing, my men taunted him with what the gold would be used for. All in all it is a fate much worse than death for a proud man like him.”

“Does Prince Oberyn know any of this?” Davos asked.

“He knows enough to be pleased. Not enough to find him.” Lord Stark’s answered to the point.

“So you have documents entitling you to that gold?” Davos asked to be sure.

“I do. But I don’t expect Tyrion Lannister will consider them valid. He will claim that his father was unfairly pressured into it.”

“He wasn’t though.” Jon spoke up for the first time. “He was a murderer and faced the death penalty. He didn’t deserve to live. He paid a fair price to be allowed to stay alive. I am inclined to think that Lord Tyrion knows very well what kind of man his father was uh is. But I agree not to tempt fate before I am more acquainted with Lord Tyrion. How do you explain that back then and all this time nobody got wind of strangers mining at the Rock.”

“Because there weren’t any strangers mining it. “We bought the services of the overseer, a man called Stout and his crew that discovered the new vein. The entrance is at the other side of the mountain. Lord Tywin kept all his dealings to himself. His sons took no part in ruling his lands. Somehow it all worked out. Things are about to get complicated though.” Ned Stark frowned.

“Uncle? What haven’t you told us?” Jon frowned when he looked at his uncle’s troubled expression.

“We got a report that they discovered a new vein in the part of the mines exploited by House Lannister. They are currently digging deep under the mountain in the direction of our shaft. It might take another three moons or so before they will be coming dangerously to connecting their new shaft to ours. We must make a decision soon. Come forward, which would break our promise to Tywin Lannister or stop mining and leave the area without a trace.”

“Do the Lannisters pay taxes to the Crown in proportion to what the mines yield or is it a fixed fee no matter how much the mines bring in?” Jon asked his uncle.

“I must check with Varys but I think it is a fixed fee.” His uncle replied.

“If it is, then we change it. House Lannister is not in a position to object and it is not an unfair thing to ask. When they fall on hard times, their taxes lessen, when they discover a new vein, they can afford the higher contribution they have to pay the Crown.”

“Spoken as a true Master of Coin.” Davos praised Jon. “Perhaps you don’t need to find one after all?”

“I do need one. I don’t want to spend my mornings going over the books in addition to my other duties. I’d rather pick up my sword and train.”

“Something you and Robb have in common.” Ned smiled relieved that that part of his confession was over. “So If I understand this right, you opt to withdraw our men from the Lannister mines before they risk discovery.

“Yes, Uncle. I am confident that with good management, the Seven Kingdoms will once more be prosperous. The Crown needs to focus on getting everyone to do their part to keep their corner of the realm from living up to its potential. The Crown will reap enough benefits from the Lannister mines by collecting taxes proportionate to the estimated value of the yields.”

“And the Crownlands will have to start earning their income as well.” Davos chimed in.

“Indeed. Anyone who is lazy will still have to pay taxes calculated on the possible income he would have earned had he done the work.”

“A noble notion, but impossible to enforce, Jon.” Ned cautioned. “How do you even start to make an accurate assessment of everyone’s income? Don’t rush these plans. Start with a small community and see how much effort it takes to implement such a tax. In the unlikely event that it works, go from there. If not, learn from your mistakes and make your plans a bit less ambitious.”

“Just an idea, Uncle. Brainstorming, remember? I know the premises is righteous but am well aware that putting it in practice is a different thing altogether. It is something to keep in mind for when my reign is more established. Now, about the debt we owe the Iron Bank, can you tell Davos and me how deeply the Crown is indebted to them?”

His uncle gave them the exact figure which in the end was less than they had feared. Not much later the discussion ended. His uncle agreed to delay the promised visit to Lord Baratheon till after lunch. Jon was in need of fresh air. He cursed the fact that he better be sensible and refrain from climbing too many stairs. He yearned to access a balcony in one of the towers and look out over the city, his city. Instead he needed to satisfy himself by using the small balcony of the council room. Finally alone, Jon stepped out on the balcony and shifted his head upward to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. He startled when Dany came up behind him and encircled his waist.

“I asked the servant to serve the two of us a light lunch in here.” She stood on her toes to kiss the back of neck.

He turned took her hand and together they sat down on the stone bench that was the only furniture present on the small balcony. They passed a peaceful moment and avoided all talk of politics for now. 

“I’m glad you stood your ground and we will visit with the dragons later this afternoon. “ Dany still held his hand and caressed the back of it absently.

“Let me contact them to make sure they’ll arrive on the beach near the Kingswood in time.” This would be the very first time he warged in her presence and he made sure not to frighten her. “Don’t be afraid if I don’t respond to you for a short while. I need to concentrate and will close my eyes.”

Dany nodded and Jon closed his eyes and opened his mind. The first thing he became aware of was the niggling presence of his direwolf. Surprised he focussed on Ghost. His direwolf had refused to accompany Gendry to Winterfell. Neither had he joined Edric, Brienne, and Loras to White Harbour. Ghost had opted to travel south at his own pace. 

Jon warged into his wolf and was relieved to learn that Ghost was no longer travelling alone. Despite the fast pace Uncle Benjen had been travelling, Ghost had managed to catch up with him. It reassured Jon that Ghost planned to stick with Uncle Benjen for the rest of the journey so both of them could look out for each other. He was glad to witness through Ghost’s red eyes that Uncle Benjen looked healthy enough except for the expected signs of exhaustion. His uncle looked a bit thinner and had dark circles under his eyes. Satisfied that they were both safe and approaching at a steady pace, he severed the connection and searched for Rhaegal’s presence.

Rhaegal eager for news accepted Jon’s probing and opened his mind. His dragons were circling impatiently over Dragonstone. Understanding that their human was finally recognised as the superior being over all those insignificant two-footers of his own race, they easily accepted to meet him on the prearranged spot and would take over the search for a suitable place to settle there. They were better placed than some tiny humans to sniff out caves. Jon urged them not to scare anyone unnecessarily and informed them that he and the Princess would arrive at the beach on horseback later that afternoon.

Satisfied, Jon broke off their mind sharing session and stared straight into Dany’s purple eyes. He smiled, easing her worried expression. “I’m sorry it took longer as expected. I first connected with Ghost. He is travelling in the company of Uncle Benjen now. They will be here in less than a sennight if all goes well.”

“I envy you this bond with your wolf but most of all with the dragons, Aegon.” 

The servants preceded by Ser Barristan entered with their lunch before he could react. Jon gestured to Ser Barristan and the knight quickly ushered the servants out and joined Ser Oswell at the other side of the door allowing the couple to continue their to continue their tête-à-tête.

They enjoyed their meal addressing nothing more significant than the weather and the decorations in the Red Keep. When Jon noticed that Dany had eaten her fill, he gestured for her to sit closer to him. He adjusted his position on the bench sitting astride it on the far edge so he could lean with his back against the stone wall and guided Dany until she was installed between his legs her back resting against his front. He encircled her waist with his arms pulling her closer to him and nuzzled her slim neck that was exposed since her braids were mostly arranged in an elaborate crown on top of her head.

“I’ll help you with Viserion as much as I can.” He promised revisiting the topic they had stopped discussing when the servants had entered with their lunch.

“It is not your willingness I am nervous about.” She confessed. 

“Just take it easy and don’t expect too much progress at once. They are not our servants but our equals if not superiors. Respect them as such and be grateful for every concession they make. Let them feel your acceptance of their decision not your frustration.”

“Will they be able to feel what I feel, you think?” She turned her head and gave her a quick kiss before he answered.

“I don’t know. But they are extremely intelligent and do understand everything I feel, think and say. Talk to them in High Valyrian though, as the dragonriders before me did. And we’ll take it from there. I’ll be with you every step of the way but I will need to walk a fine line between not betraying their confidence and helping you. You understand?” He leaned his chin on her shoulder.

“I repeat, it is not your willingness that I have doubts about.” She cocked her head so it rested against his.

“We’ll take a small ride on Rhaegal if you like.” The promise was whispered with his lips close to her ear. The small puffs of breath he released while he spoke tickled her ears.

“Will Ser Gerold agree?” Her shaky voice betrayed how affected she was by his closeness.

“We’ll only circle above the sea and see to it that we keep within the line of sight of the guards on the beach the entire time. Nothing can happen to us up there, Dany. Even Ser Gerold has to acknowledge that. The more difficult task was to get him to agree to us venturing out and visiting the beach.” His hands were starting to move over the curve of her hips.

“Well he had no rebuttal after Varys told him of a safe way to reach the beach by travelling underground. I am excited to see those secret tunnels below the Red Keep and part of the city.” Dany smiled and turned slightly in his arms. If she was a kitten, she would have purred. Instead she basked in the warmth of their embrace.

“These tunnels played a dire part in the events of the Rebellion.” Jon hands stilled as his mood got more serious. “They remind me of Jaime Lannister’s fate.”

“You sympathize with him that much?” She looked sceptical and a bit jealous of whatever it was that had distracted him away from her.

“I realise it is difficult for you to grasp but I am convinced that deep down he is a good person who was in the right place at the right time but at great cost for his own reputation and sanity. He is coming to term with his past now ever since he has found a new purpose in life. He is turning back into the man he was destined to become all along. I saw proof of that with my very eyes.” He defended his change of heart.

“And you are sure that you are not fooled into thinking that by a man who has nothing left to lose now that he is condemned to spend the rest of his life at the Wall?” Dany was not convinced yet.

Jon pulled away slightly and leaned with his head against the wall. “I am. I can’t explain it. It is as if he is a kindred soul. He could have become another version of Ser Arthur but fate decided otherwise. Often now, when I think about these three loyal Kingsguards who helped raise me, I wonder how things would have turned out if one of them had been in the Red Keep and Jaime Lannister had been amongst the ones that guarded the Tower of Joy.”

“But that didn’t happen, Aegon.” She felt a bit frustrated by his slight withdrawal and stared straight ahead.

“He was our age when it happened, Dany. I can’t help but feel for him, more so after his heroic deeds during and after the battle near Hardhome.” 

“When will you tell me about that battle, Aegon?” She turned her head and saw the empathy for another in his kind dark eyes disappear and a troubled look take its place.

“Soon, Dany. Allow me a bit of respite still. I hardly have had time to process the events myself. So many things are happening now and are demanding all my, our attention. Aren’t you troubled by the situation in the Stormlands? Not all the families of the bannermen from the Stormlands that swore allegiance to us have been brought to safety yet.”

They had only briefly mentioned the situation in the Stormlands near the end of the meeting agreeing that the subject warranted more of their attention and it would be better to dedicate their entire next meeting to this topic. Varys had eagerly agreed relaying he was expecting two of his spies to return to the capital this evening with recent news and he would most likely have received additional reports from his little birds by tomorrow morning as well. 

She almost strained her neck in order to gaze deep into his troubled eyes. “I will wait for you to be ready, Aegon. I only am keen to learn more of what happened to you back there in the north so I can help you cope with it.” 

He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned her body sideways, dipped her slightly and took possession of her lips. On hand supported her back, his other hand caressed the curve of her hip sensually. He could sense her response by the slight quivering of her breath and the way she tilted her body closer to him, an open invitation to become more daring. His free hand ventured to her butt cheek and she lifted it willingly so he could cup it in the palm of his hand. 

 

He squeezed it and sighed against her lips. “If only we were married already.”

She was not able to offer a reply, his tongue preventing it by instantly seeking entrance to her mouth again, willing her to submit to him even further. He felt her hands playing with the curls at the back of his neck another sign that she was totally on board with anything he wished to do to her. His kisses slowly evolved in gentler ones and his mouth wandered from her mouth to her chin, to the exposed flesh above the neckline of her dress. His hand released her buttock and now wandered to the curve of her breast. 

“I want to kiss every inch of your body, Dany, starting with your perfect breasts. If only we were married already.”

“Do we really need to uh wait until we are officially married? We are officially betrothed. You are mine and I am yours, we only need to confirm it before witnesses which will happen in a few days time.” She managed to hold in a squeak when his other hand belonging to the arm that supported her ventured from her waist closer to the tingling spot between her legs.

“Don’t tempt me Dany. I gave my word to Ser Barristan. Besides, our first time should be on a soft surface without servants or loyal Kingsguards threatening to burst in at any moment.” His fingers of his other hand meanwhile had wormed themselves under the neckline of her dress and were inching closer to the tip of her left breast.

He felt the warmth of her breath against his cheek and a shiver running down her spine when he reached the tender rosebud and took it gently between his thumb and middle finger.

“What if we said our vows to your Old Gods in secret?” She barely got the words out overcome with some unfamiliar but very pleasurable sensations.

“Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan were thorough in extracting that promise from me.” He kissed the spot he had been caressing wetting the cloth that covered her upper body in the process and withdrew.

She looked disappointed and slightly frustrated when both his hands stopped their administrations. She readjusted her position so she sat upright without his support. “I made no such promise. Can’t we work with that given? What if tonight, I touch you where you touched me just now?” She touched his upper torso to make her point. Would you like to be kissed there as well?”

He looked at her, relishing the innocent expression of her desires. “Gods, Dany, I adore you. I love the way your body responds to me. I cherish the way you hunger for my caresses. Don’t ever doubt that I want you just as much. Our first coupling will be even more perfect if we succeed in waiting until it is allowed. We will be able to spend an entire night together without disturbance. I want it to be perfect, to be the stuff of legend, a memory to cherish until the day we die.”

He gave her an innocent peck on her check. “Help me wait, Dany. Don’t tempt me overly much.”

“I didn’t do anything, Aegon. It was all you.” She kissed the top of his nose.

“I know,” he sighed with frustration. “I know all too well. Let us set the date and announce it tomorrow at the start of the council meeting. I only wish for two things, one that my Uncle Benjen can attend and two, that we say our vows in front of the Old Gods the night before we put on a show and hold a grand ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor for the sake of the realm.”

“Your uncle will be here within seven to ten days? We can get married in a fortnight then?” She whispered the words close to his lips.

“At the very latest.” He underlined his words with claiming her lips once more. “I can’t wait much longer, Dany. I have lived without a woman for far too long. My body sometimes struggles with this forced abstinence and I wake up finding it released some of its seed during an uh passionate dream.”

“Those dreams better feature me, Aegon. Can I ask if you have bedded many women?” Her cheeks were a burning red and she turned her head away from him.

“Dany, I, …” He had often imagined telling her about this but now that the occasion presented itself his mind drew a blank. He took a deep breath and the words he had often rehearsed came back to him.

“It was only one night some moons ago. It was all set up as a kind of a training session. I was taught how to please a woman. They were very thorough. The next morning we parted ways. No feelings were involved and I didn’t actual touch any of them. They kind of uh showed me things? They were my teachers, sweet, willing, but I didn’t actually bed them even if I saw every inch of them naked from up close.”

“Them? They?” Dany looked more curious than put out.

There were two of them.” He admitted. “I saved their lives and gave them their freedom and a chance to become part of a community of smallfolk at the Driftmark. They were pleasure slaves in Essos who had been captured by pirates. You remember the letter I wrote you when I returned from visiting you in Pentos?”

“I do. And have you seen them since?” She looked down at her lap, growing uncomfortable now that these girls became more real in her mind.

“I have passed them by a few times. They still live on the island. You met them as well. They both greeted you when we walked from my grandmother to the inn for that serenade. I have never touched them except perhaps their hands. Please look at me, Dany.” He softly took her chin and guided her head back to face him.

“But you have felt the need to couple with a woman?” She looked embarrassed when she asked him that. “You promised me honesty, remember?”

“I have felt the need. And I have given you honesty, Dany, no matter how embarrassed all this makes me feel. And if you insist on full disclosure then yes, I do feel the need to couple. Daily, I must add if you really want me to reveal my baser instincts. But it always happens in combination with thoughts of you. Once we’re married, I’ll describe some of those thoughts in greater detail and you may decide whether you want to help some of them become reality.” He kissed both her eyelids.

A soft sigh escaped from her lips. “We only need to wait ten days or so. Let’s present it that way to the small council. If they want to stall, we can give them a few extra days. A fortnight is the longest I am willing to wait to learn what you have been taught so diligently by two pleasure experts. I am envious of the opportunities you have been given, Aegon. I am jealous and a bit scared too if I am being honest. Scared that I will not be enough for you, that I will disappoint you. I know so little about any of this.” Again she looked away and once more he took her chin and gently turned it so he could stare in her eyes.

“There is no need to be scared. I vow to never love another. You are it for me, Dany. And you have the opportunity to learn more too. Ask Irri to help you with this. Have you not heeded my previous hints? Don’t be shy with your own body. Let her teach you where you can touch yourself and find pleasure.”

“I’d prefer to discover it with you.” She looked very young and shy now. 

“Then I’ll cherish the honour to be allowed to be the one that gets to teach you.” He kissed her chastely. “Now I am afraid that I must leave you. Lord Baratheon is expecting my visit. I believe you promised your help with the selection and seating arrangements of the nobles to invite to our first royal banquet? I’ll see you this afternoon at the entrance of the secret passage way. Be sure to dress for the occasion. Breeches would not be remiss. We’re going flying.”

She nodded. Then stood and pulled him up as well. Hand in hand they walked to the door ready to attend to the rest of their duties.

 

***

 

Jon had expected Lord Baratheon’s health would have declined but he had not expected the man to be suffering this much. He was sweating, his face was contorted in pain and his cheeks had an unnaturally red colouring. Even though scented candles had been place in strategic spots all around the room, the smell of human waste and sickness was still predominant.

“Your Grace,” Robert Baratheon whispered when he noticed the young man. “I am glad you ca-came.”

“I am at your disposal, Lord Baratheon.” Jon seated himself trying to keep his face neutral. “You wished to speak to me.”

“I did. I wanted to talk to you in private so you know my words are true. There is no need to keep up the pretence. There are no witnesses present. What we say now is just between the two of us.”

A short pause was necessary for Lord Baratheon to catch his breath. Jon waited patiently for the man to continue.

“I wish you all the best, your Grace. I worshipped your mother and would have loved to see you grow up. I want your reign to be prosperous. So I wanted to warn you.” He stopped out of breath once more.

Jon who had leaned a bit closer in order to hear the softly spoken words was caught by surprise. “Warn me?”

The former King looked almost desperate in his struggle to gather enough energy so he could explain. “Warn about wife, my former … wife.”

Jon frowned. “Cersei Lannister.”

The sick man nodded. “Ned told me of your com-compassionate nature. Don’t let her trick you into feeling guilty about her fate and compel you to release her. She is … devious, …da-da-dangerous and not to be … trusted.” Again he stopped out of breath.

“We should have executed her but your … Uncle, dammit Ned is too lenient. Don’t make the same mistake and be too lenient with her.” His chest heaved by the effort to take in enough air to continue. Soon though the sick man’s determination prevailed and he was once more able to continue. “She will be a threat to your reign. Your loved ones will never be safe.” A coughing fit shook his body. 

Jon felt helpless and didn’t know how to act. He offered the man a piece of cloth to clean the spit from his mouth. Lord Baratheon accepted the cloth and very slowly brought it closer to his mouth. He wiped the wrong side of his mouth with it but Jon kept silent and waited until Robert Baratheon choose to continue.

“She will find a way to destroy you if you let her. Check that she is safely confined or ex-execute her at the first opportunity.” Robert Baratheon sagged deeper into his furs relieved he had gotten the words out.

“I don’t know what to say to that.” Jon said eying the man that looked at the end of his forces. “I had not given her much thought to be honest.”

“Whatever you do, don’t be fooled by her.” Robert Baratheon closed his eyes for a moment.

“I thank you for the advice, Lord Baratheon. Anything else you needed to talk to me about or that you want me to do for you?”

“My niece, Shireen, find her a goo-good husband.” Lord Baratheon had opened his eyes again and looked beseechingly at the young man. “One who appreciates her for her keen mind and the nice, caring girl she is.” Once more he stopped, out of breath. 

Jon looked around but there was no cup water or wine present. He nodded hoping that the small gesture would be enough to appease the former King. He prayed that the interview would end soon. 

“She needs a husband who is willing to see past her dis-disfigurement. I was … grieved to hear you were already be-betrothed. It would have been the ultimate solution.”

Trying not to let on how much the sick man’s struggles discomfited him, Jon didn’t hesitate and responded immediately with a firm sounding voice. “I promise to look out for her as if she were a close cousin. You have my word.”

“That is all I ask, your word. I know you are … true to it.” A deep sigh followed these words. “Now I can rest in peace. Can you su-summon Ned, please?”

Jon relieved that this was all the former King had needed from him stood at once, said his goodbye and left the room in a hurry. Once outside he took a few deep breaths of cleaner air, only to find his uncle pacing in the hallway. “He is ready for you, Uncle.” Jon said his face serious. 

“What did he want, your Grace?” Ned had been rather worried and Davos’ continuous speculations had only increased his own concern.

“A promise to take care of Shireen as in find her a decent husband plus a promise not to pardon former Queen Cersei.”

Ned visibly relieved, urged him to inform Davos of this immediately and then disappeared into the chamber where is best friend was dying. His old friend didn’t mince his words.

“It is time, Ned. You must help me end my suffering. I want something that will put me to sleep never to wake up again.” He wheezed and barely got out his next words. “I have made my … peace. The realm will be well looked after. It doesn’t need me anymore… Nobody needs me anymore.”

 

***

Sam was growing apprehensive. He and Davos would be present during the two private audiences scheduled that afternoon. Dany had sent word that she had been delayed and would do everything to ensure she could meet Jon in time for their excursion to the beach. Jon had taken it in stride and had asked Sam to come early so there were three of them to meet the Celtigars. Initially Sam had thought he would be waiting in the vicinity to be summoned when his brother was brought before the King.

The elderly Lord Celtigar had proudly presented the ancestral Valyrian axe. Jon and Sam had taken note of the particular design of the axe head. Jon had made sure to compliment House Celtigar on the pristine condition the weapon. He had made a show of admiring it thoroughly by pointing out how light it was, how well balanced and effective because of the unique shape of the axe head. He had thanked them profusely for having made the effort to bring the weapon to King’s Landing and stressed that by this deed, House Celigar had contributed to the improvement of the royal armoury. The royal blacksmith would try to duplicate the design, even if the weapons could never be of such superior material. 

Davos, still remembering the behaviour of Lord Celtigar’s son during their first meeting when Jon was merely the Prince of Dragonstone, had closely monitored his reaction. This time the Celtigar heir left the room with a superior smirk on his face. _‘Just one day and it has already been proven that King Aegon had a lot more support and leeway than the Prince of Dragonstone ever would, even amongst his own vassals.’_

As soon as the doors had closed Jon turned to Sam and Davos with a contrite look on his face. “When I requested them to show me the axe, I didn’t know that we would have a chance to produce our own Valyrian steel. I had to justify my request. I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable with the show I put on.”

“Not at all,” Davos responded quietly. He had been shocked when Jon had finally let him in on their plans. He had almost chastised Jon not to have started the trials earlier in the North and on top of that to allow Gendry to create an additional delay by visiting Winterfell and accompanying slow travelling Ladies when he finally came South. Jon had needed to explain that the production of one batch of Valyrian steel would need almost a moon to complete with a dragon’s assistance at several stages of the process. 

Sam had piped in and told them that Lord Reed’s latest message had reassured them somewhat about the timeline. Not only did they have time on their side, they might also need to experiment some before succeeding. “Don’t count on it that the first batch will yield the result we are striving for. Just ask Gendry about how complicated the process is when he is here.”

When Davos had nodded and promised to keep their endeavours and hopes a secret until they had actually produced the high quality steel, Sam had changed the subject. 

“Jon, would you be willing to make some sketches of the axe head later? You draw better than me. And you didn’t exaggerate to placate Lord Celtigar. The design of the axe head was rather interesting. I want to show it to Gendry.” 

Jon smiled and nodded. Now that the King’s full attention was on him, Sam grew nervous and started fiddling with his hands. “My brother is next? Has he arrived, you think?”

“Ser Oswell informed me that Dickon Tarly has been brought to the keep a while ago. You haven’t warned him by sending a note or a messenger?”

Sam shook his head vigorously. “Of course not. You told me not to. My allegiance is to you, Jon.”

“I don’t doubt that, Sam. It is just, he is your blood. There was always the small chance he could hae sought you out or that you two met by accident.” 

Sam didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve Jon’s loyalty and friendship. The kind expression on the King’s face settled some of the anxiousness that moments before had made his voice shake. He shook his head to affirm once more that there had been no contact between him and Dickon at any point. Jon smiled encouragingly at Sam and gestured Ser Oswell to let Lord Dickon Tarly enter. 

In adherence to the strategy they had all agreed on, Sam moved to the alcove that hid the side door from view. From there he could oversee the entire room. The eyes of anyone who entered would immediately be drawn to the King and his Hand. 

A broad shoulder rather handsome young man entered the room. Despite his impeccable military posture, his eyes betrayed how nervous he was. 

Davos spoke up. “ Lord Tarly, I am Davos of House Seaworth, Hand of the King. You stand in the presence of King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk.

Lord Dickon of House Tarly did not kneel. Instead he made a deep bow. “Your Grace. My Lord Hand.”

They might not look alike at the first glance, but the nervous look on his brother’s face and the twitch of his jaw were identical to what Sam often saw on his own face in the mirror. From his outlook post he could study both men’s profiles and watched how a serious looking King formally greeted his brother.

“Lord Dickon of House Tarly. I heard a lot about you and your House. ”

Dickon startled at that but kept silent not knowing why he had been chosen amongst all the competitors to come before the King. The streets were abuzz with rumours of the handsome young King who for the time being refused to grant audiences. But he had been summoned and had not been given the opportunity to decline. He would have preferred to confer with his father first but there had been no time. He barely had been allowed to change his attire before two guards had escorted him to the Red Keep.

“Can you tell me when I will hear from your Lord Father?” The King had kept standing and Dickon stood at least twenty foot away which set the tone of the meeting even more clearly than the cool formal voice of Jon. Sam saw his brother growing more and more uncomfortable

“I, uh, I’m not sure, your Grace. Perhaps he is waiting on instruction of his liege.”

“Who is here as my guest and has even been given some fine quarters in the Red Keep, isn’t that so Sam?” 

This was his queue. Sam approached demurely but he felt the small vein in his neck throb at a rapid pace.“ They have been here for some time, your Grace.” 

Jon nodded at him, the stern expression in his eyes softened when they focused on him. Sam stopped when he stood at the King’s right side.

“Hello Dickon. It has been some time since I last saw you. You look well.”

His brother had paled and widened his stance when he swayed slightly. Sam saw him struggle not to bombard his brother with questions. He knew that Jon had ordered his Kingsguard to brief Dickon Tarly on the proper protocol when in the presence of the King. 

“You are allowed to address your brother shortly, Lord Tarly. You will however have to do it in my presence.”

The young Lord looked from Sam to the Targaryen King back to Sam. “I, uh, I just wanted to say that I am surprised to see you here, Sam. You have lost weight. It suits you. Why are you not at the Wall or at the uh Citadel?”

“The King had need of my services. I delayed my trip to the Citadel.” Sam didn’t elaborate further. Instead he started his own enquiry. “Does my father intend to pledge himself to King Aegon? Or will he ignore the summons of Lord Tyrell and turn traitor? Will he heed the summons of Stannis Baratheon?”

“I uh, to be honest, I don’t know. I left for King’s Landing when Robert Baratheon first announced the tournament. There was no talk of an abdication back then.”

This was the first time since they were both grown up that Sam felt truly superior to his younger brother. That made it easier to keep to the script. He spoke with renewed confidence. “Did Father not write to you? Did he by any chance summon you home but are you disobeying. Are you risking his ire in the hope that he will forgive you if you make a name for yourself by getting far in the tournament?” The elated feeling at having the upperhand for once grew even more pronounced when he saw his younger brother’s guilty blush.

Davos chose that moment to intervene. “Lord Tarly, I order you to answer the question. His Grace is also interested in the answer. Did your father summon you home?” Davos’ tone would have made braver man cower. Sam was astounded to see drops of sweat, caused by fear no doubt appear on his brother’s forehead. 

“He strongly uh advised it but I wrote back that it had been a peaceful transition and I would be fine. I only sent the raven out yesterday.” His eyes widened when it finally dawned on him that his father could have called him back for a very different reason. He broke protocol when he interrupted his conversation with the King to address his brother. “Sam?”

Sam waited for the sign they had agreed upon. Jon made a show of allowing Sam to speak with a magnanimous royal hand gesture.

“Father is hedging his bets most likely, Dickon. You know what his ambitions are. Stannis Baratheon will have promised to fulfil them. I advise you to do as the King tells you.”

Jon used his kingly authority to perfection when he stiffly addressed his brother. “Lord Tarly, you will write a letter to your father and let Sam read it before you seal it and send it off. You will inform him that his two sons are currently my _‘guests’_ in King’s Landing and will both enjoy my hospitality for a while still. Write that I want to parlay with him. If he wants his heir safely back in Horn Hill he is not to send word to Stannis Baratheon nor is he to speak of this to anyone. If Stannis wants an answer to his summons, your father must stall him. If he already promised Stannis certain things, he will delay sending whatever he promised. Did you get all that?”

“Am I your prisoner?” Dickon looked helplessly between the two men.

“Only if you want to leave.” Davos had taken a few steps closer to the young Lord. He used what Sam called Davos’ fatherly voice when he advised Dickon. “Send the letter and participate in the tournament, Lord Tarly. But know we will watch every step you take in King’s Landing and monitor anyone you talk with. You will not be allowed to venture near the city walls. If you do not heed these restrictions, a place in the dungeons will be made ready for you. Is that clear?”

“What about Sam?” Dickon asked. “What will you do to my brother?”

Now Jon stepped forward until he stood next to Davos. “Now you rise in my esteem, Lord Tarly. Your worry about your brother is commendable but unnecessary. Your brother is part of my inner circle. Whatever your father decides, Sam will always have a place by my side and be safe, unlike you. I believe we are finished here. Wait in the hall for a moment. Sam will join you momentarily. He will see to it that you can borrow some writing materials. I advise you to write that letter before you leave the Red Keep.”

Sam fell into a chair the moment his brother left the room. As expected, his friend was quick to come to his side.

“I’m sorry, Sam. But that was necessary. My compliments. You held yourself well. That was a great performance you just pulled off.

“The three of us pulled off,” Sam corrected. “But it took a lot out of me. I feel drained. You were very intimidating, very kingly, Jon. I never saw my brother shrink before a man that was not my father.”

“I had the easier part. I was just intimidating a stranger. Help your brother write the letter, Sam. Find the right tone to persuade your father to at least hear me out before he makes a decision. Don’t betray your status with me.”

“I know. We went over it a few times already. Don’t worry.”

Jon smiled. “Then I won’t. Prince Oberyn will be pleased when I tell him this part of his scheme worked flawlessly.”

 

 

**Interlude 36: Timely interventions**

That same day

Prince Oberyn looked at Varys as they were both leaving the small council meeting. No words were spoken. Any observer would have said that both men went their separate ways, looking bored after a tiresome meeting. Nobody would have suspected that they were set to hold a secret encounter only moments later.

The Red Viper of Dorne didn’t startle when the Spider entered his room by a hidden side panel that wasn’t visible if you didn’t know it was there. Prince Oberyn had more than once lamented that Sunspear had not been built with such handy hidden passages and tunnels. It would have made it that much easier to get away with all the mischief he had caused in his younger years. The very same moment he had entered his room, he had gone over to that wall and had unblocked the secret entrance. He sat waiting in a chair, two cups of wine at the ready on a small table. 

Varys took the chair facing his co-conspirator and didn’t waste any time. “They need our help even more now that he is King but they are totally ignorant of it.” He took a large sip of the wine. “I needed that. This is excellent wine, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn acknowledged the compliment to his homemade wine as well as Varys’ statement. “What a tedious meeting. Only the part about young Tarly was interesting. I would like to be a fly on the wall during that audience. But when they discussed the Tyrells! Are they really that oblivious? Honour can be a dangerous thing to have if it blinds strong and capable men so thoroughly. Do they really believe that lady Olenna has no other tricks up her sleeve than raising food prices?”

Varys nodded. “The King is young and has never met the likes of her. This is one area of his preparation that has been neglected. You should perhaps educate him a little, Oberyn. He listens to you.”

A smug smile appeared on the Prince’s face. “That he does. Even though he thinks he came up with the idea of making Willas Tyrell the prominent member of House Tyrell on his own.”

“You must grant our Grace the credit he is due though.” Varys took another sip of the wine. His face clearly showed his enjoyment of the superior quality of the drink. “It was a splendid move to marry the Tyrell heir off to Myrcella Lannister. Once legalised, she became an eligible partner for him, but one Lady Olenna would never approve of.”

“Unfortunately those were not solely political motivations that drove our youthful King to this decision. His compassionate nature facilitated a couple that fancied itself in love.” He snorted. “The rest was me coaching him. I might as well have written the letter to Willas Tyrell myself.” He chuckled now. “House Tyrell will be forced to accept a legalised bastard bride without a dowry!”

Varys didn’t share his exhilaration but pressed his previous point further. “Then talk to our King. Teach him more about the way the real world work. Show him how the game is played and what lies hidden behind the smiles and polite words of the nobles. He is an apt student and already has a better grasp on these things than both his uncles combined. Or are you scared that the student will outgrow the master?”

“Now you offend me, my dear co-conspirator. I would count myself lucky if I ever achieved that. I personally will make sure that our young King will be the best Sovereign this continent has ever seen in its entire history.”

Varys smiled indulgently and raised his glass. “To King Aegon, long may he reign.” He emptied his cup and saw Oberyn do the same. 

He stared absently at the bottom of his empty chalice when he remarked, “I never thought I would see the Red Viper root for another. And certainly not for one so young. If I didn’t know better, I might profess that you have a man crush.”

“And what if I did? I love that boy as if he were my own son. Hells, I wish he were. But then, he has surrogate fathers enough. He doesn’t need me.” Oberyn refilled both their cups and drank deeply once more.

“I’m merely an adviser that he trusts, but you, you are his friend, Oberyn. He cares genuinely for you. He esteems you and heeds your counsel. You could do worse.”

“I know. I know.” Prince Oberyn had a faraway look on his face. For a moment he looked happy but then a frown appeared on his forehead. “I just hope my stupid brother doesn’t endanger my status at Court and consequently my relationship with Aegon.”

“You have contingencies in place.” Varys reminded the Prince in an attempt to lift his mood. “And King Aegon would grant you full immunity from the happenings in Dorne. He did not befriend you to gain the alliance of Dorne. Besides, you have proven your usefulness ten times over.”

Oberyn righted himself in his chair with renewed purpose. “Then let’s be useful once more. How can we thwart lady Olenna this time?”

“Well, in the first place, we need to keep doing what we have been doing ever since she came to court with her granddaughter. I have little birds shadow Lady Margaery day and night.”

“I still can’t believe you caught her trying to sneak into King Robert’s bedroom when they learned he was recovering, only to attempt the same thing with our young King barely a sennight later.” Prince Oberyn shook his head. 

“And this time I didn’t send a servant on a collision course with her. Last night, I warned the guards and told them to hide around the corner and let her enter his bedroom.” Varys smiled remembering the detailed account of one of his most promising little birds.

“And she almost got into bed with Princess Daenerys. That must have come as a shock to her.” Prince Oberyn had heard a short version of last night’s events already.

“Not to mention the fact that she was almost arrested by the guard that followed her in immediately after to make sure that our Princess would come to no harm. Lady Margaery however was quick to come up with an excuse. She is cunning, I grant her that.”

“She only got away with it because you told the guards to let her go and not shame the young maiden. I know it has not been a full day since, but no rumours are whispered as far as I know. You got them all to keep silent.” Prince Oberyn’s tone clearly indicated he meant to compliment an extraordinary achievement. 

Varys nodded his head in acknowledgement and continued his tale. “My little bird that followed her all the way to her own room at the other side of the Red Keep reported that she stumbled and almost ran the entire way, looking pale and panicked.”

“She must have wondered what the Princess was doing in the King’s chambers.” Prince Oberyn clearly enjoyed picturing the event.

“My little spy told me he heard her mutter under her breath: ‘Another failure. How in the Seven Hells do I explain this to Grandma? Will she even believe me or punish me again for my perceived unwillingness to persevere.’ If Lady Margaery doesn’t connect the dots, I am sure her grandmother will. She will realise the King is honour bound to marry Princess Daenerys now, even if nothing happened between our royal couple.”

Prince Oberyn frowned. “Not if the Princess dies before the wedding. Or she can always make the King a young widower in the moons to come before an heir is born. I was lucky that that old fool of a Maester came to me for an ingredient he was missing to brew a suspicious potion. Your little birds were able to detect the rest of the plot soon after. The Tyrell servant that was to administer the poison to the Princess’ bedtime drink has gone missing. Yet another dilemma to solve for the Queen of Thornes.”

“She won’t care for the servant. Only for the fact that Princess Daenerys is still healthy and set to marry the King.” Varys voiced the obvious out loud.

Oberyn nodded. “And we must plan for all eventualities. Not only the health of the Princess is in danger. They can create chaos by eliminating the King as well. I will order Davos to have every single thing the King or the Princess eat or drink tested first. Have your little birds monitor everyone Lady Olenna speaks to. Do not neglect a single source, however unimportant it may seem. At the Citadel I heard a tale of a man who was killed by a poisonous powder they had sprinkled on his clothing. We must remain vigilant.”

“And we will. I already made more inroads in the Tyrell household. As of today, I will receive a copy of each message that leaves the Keep sent by House Tyrell for whatever destination. Do you still have your men stationed at the docks to monitor the Tyrell ships?”

“Of course. The Queen of Thornes won’t be able to make a move without us knowing. I have loyal men stationed throughout the city.” Oberyn was quick to affirm.

“Then the only thing you still need to do is talk to our King.” 

Prince Oberyn rolled his eyes at the Spider’s insistence. “And I will. But it will be a delicate process. I will do it gradually.”

“Don’t underestimate his Grace, Oberyn. Tell him about lady Margaery. It is better that he knows. He might reconsider consenting to betroth her to his cousin. You told me how close the King is with Robb Stark. Not only would his cousin suffer such a wife, Lady Margaery would become something akin to a good-sister to his Grace.”

Oberyn looked thoughtful at first but then a devious smile lit up his face. “That would enrage our highness the Queen of Thornes even more. We must make sure that we have her safely entangled in our web of spies first. Olenna Tyrell might become even more desperate and unpredictable when cornered.”

Both men savoured their drinks, and mulled over the issue. Oberyn was the first to break the contemplative silence. “What if Lady Margaery is an innocent victim in all this? It must not be ideal to grow up under the scrutiny of the Queen of Thornes. Perhaps she is a nice girl in an impossible situation. What do the servants say of her behaviour towards them? Could it be that she is a decent prospective bride after all? One we need to save from a vicious grandmother?”

“I heard nothing unkind but I didn’t specifically look into that. I’ll do so at once. If you are willing to give her the benefit of the doubt then I am certain that our King will do the same. I’ll see that I come prepared when he puts that question before me.”

“We need to cover all our bases. Perhaps if we can neutralise the Queen of Thornes, there may be hope for House Tyrell yet. I am not a fan of the alternative. House Tarly has lost my esteem ever since I heard how the great Lord treats his eldest son. I realise that our King has progressive ideas and is a firm believer that women can wield power but we need to find a way to take Lady Olenna’s power away. A way that is acceptable to Aegon.”

“Let’s take it one step at the time. I’d be inclined to say we have been successfully undermining her every step of the way already. We have seen to it that her son has ‘accidentally’ stumbled on several schemes she was putting in motion. All things she would have preferred to keep a secret from him and she has been obliged to abort most of them. My little birds tell me the servants are no longer permitted to do her bidding without question any longer. If she does things out of the ordinary they have standing orders to inform her son. I think she has shamed Mace Tyrell in public one time too many. Our young King certainly hasn’t minced his words when they last spoke. We are doing all we can, Oberyn. I’d say we are well underway to dethrone her as acting head of House Tyrell.”

Oberyn gave him a small smile. “Then let’s drink to that and put an end this meeting. It is time I did something fun for a change. To King Aegon!”

“Long may he reign!” Varys responded automatically and both men sipped from the strong wine and fell silent. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Jon settles into kind of a routine and we hear a few reactions of the servants


	37. New arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jorah makes an appearance and others arrive in King’s Landing as well. In the interlude, we follow a little bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that realistically servants would speak in some sort of dialect but since English isn’t my first language, I didn’t attempt it. This will be the last chapter I post unbeta’d. Next week I can once more rely on the guidance of Ravenousreadr.

*

The next days passed quickly with meetings, audiences and a discreet burial ceremony on the fourth day of Aegon Targaryen’s reign. Robert Baratheon had passed away the night following Jon’s second visit. They had buried him in the crypts beneath the Sept of Bailor in accordance with Lord Baratheon’s last will. The man had not wanted his remains to be sent to his homeland but had preferred his last resting place to be a royal one. Jon hadn’t minded at all and had granted the former King his final request. 

Only once had Lady Shireen accepted their invitation and had been present during lunch. Jon and Daenerys had tried to talk to her a few times but had gotten no further than to extract the promise from her that she would make an appearance at the tournament and sit close to the royal couple to send a clear sign to the nobles of Westeros that Lady Shireen of House Baratheon was on good terms with her distant Targaryen kin and free to go wherever she pleased. On the third day of his reign Dany had invited her for tea and Jon had joined them to inform her of the promises he had made her father and that he regarded her as a cousin, no matter what actions her father might undertake against them in the future. She had nodded and thanked them formally but Jon and Dany had realised that she would only come to trust them with time. Jon had made sure that she was well protected and was attended by servants that she liked. If only Sam had not been so swamped with work, he was sure that the gentle nature of his friend and their joint interest in books would have helped the girl relax a bit in this awkward situation. 

Jon reckoned that for the most part things were going well. They had established a two-day schedule for the time being because his reign was still precarious and every day there were new issues that popped up. Jon always started his day with some muscle building exercises in his room that did not strain his right leg. These exercises replaced his normal sword trainings for the time being. Then he broke his fast in the company of his entourage. Every other morning there was a small council meeting held as soon as Jon had reviewed the recently arrived messages. On these days there was no Court session in the afternoon and he either granted a few private audiences or held one or more meetings with a particular adviser in his study. Still, he made sure to dedicate at the most half of the afternoon to this so he still had ample time to help Dany bond with the dragons. These were also the days that they held a royal banquet in the evening so all the nobles got their turn to dine in the presence of the King and their future Queen. 

The days without a small council meeting, Jon spent his mornings in the room he now referred to as his study. The large desk once put there on the orders of Robert Baratheon was always littered with scrolls. Ser Gerold joined him to give him his daily brief progress report, Davos followed shortly after to do the same and to discuss the newly arrived information if relevant. Afterwards either Jon preferred to be left alone or he discussed things with Sam and Davos. On these days, tedious Court sessions with endless oath takings and a few public petitions took up the entire afternoon. To compensate for that, supper was an intimate affair held in a private dining room with only his closest family and friends.

No matter what day it was, each one invariably ended with the both of them talking quietly in Dany’s quarters. He considered it his reward for performing his duties as King to the best of his abilities during every moment of the day and not looking bored when he felt like it or skipping out on his duties. These cosy moments before retiring to his own room had quickly become his most favourite part of the day. Although leaving her afterwards to return to his empty bed got more and more difficult with each passing day. 

After she had fallen asleep in his quarters that first evening in King’s Landing, they had agreed to meet in her rooms from then onwards. In the event that Dany fell asleep again, she would at least spend the night in her own bed. The wound on Jon’s thigh had been healing fast and she had made him promise to take it easy on the stairs. Jon had needed no further convincing. He was more motivated than ever not to sabotage his healing. He was itching to start training again and would do nothing to jeopardise that. Nothing got his blood flowing and his mind focused so much as an exhilarating training session that pushed him to the limit of his abilities. 

He sometimes feared that he was addicted to it as much as some people were addicted to getting drunk or gambling. He had never forgotten the strange sensation of time slowing down when he fought the White Walker and was impatient to get well enough to replicate this feeling to some extent. He had felt something similar - though not as intense - a few times before that fateful fight near Hardhome. The first time had been shortly after the attack of the pirates when they had started fighting in formation during training sessions. 

During one particular session, his friends fighting by his side had all been waylaid and he had needed to hold off two of his Kingsguards’ blunted sword attacks. If he had to describe it to others, he would say that he had felt himself entering a state of trance and it had seemed as if his body had started to move of its own accord. His feet or better his entire body had been performing something akin to a graceful dance, his mind instinctively knowing when or how to cut, not fearing defeat and operating with the absolute conviction that every move he made was the right one. 

Ever since then, he had longed to replicate this experience. He had felt something similar two more times after that. On both occasions it had happened after he had been able to hold out long enough when he finally got his Kingsguards to take him on simultaneously and not hold back. So no, Dany didn’t need to remind him not to sabotage his healing process. Jon studied the wound on his thigh each evening before he went to bed and each morning when he got up and was satisfied with the progress he observed. All in all things were going well. 

His worst day until now had been the day that they had discussed the situation in the Stormlands and his subsequent meeting with Prince Oberyn. First during the small council session, Lord Varys had given a full account of all the information that he had gathered. So far, no formal answer had been received in reply to the official message announcing the reign of King Aegon the Sixth of his Name. Even if the bird had not reached Storm’s End, rumours of his ascension to the throne must have reached Storm’s End by now and Stannis Baratheon had certainly already been informed of what had happened one way or another. Jon still hoped that the man would see reason and swear his allegiance. His entourage reminded him daily that it was still too soon and that it was normal that nothing had arrived yet. Jon knew that as well as the others but in this respect the days crawled by. As of yet, Dorne had not sent a formal reply to their official demand for allegiance either. But then again, it was normal that it took more time for a raven to fly to and from Dorne. 

Jon was worried however by all the details Varys had related to them about the goings on in the Stormlands. Stannis Baratheon no longer worshipped the Seven but had converted and now prayed to the Lord of Light. Jon was the last person to force a religion on his people, be it Faith of the Seven, the worshipping of the Old Gods or any other deity. In this instance however, the deeds that were allegedly committed by Stannis Baratheon to curry favours from this R’hllor were appalling. People had said the Targaryens were cruel when they burned people alive. Stannis Baratheon had burned his own kin alive. He offered human sacrifices to his new Fire God and did all that to be granted visions. Lots of smallfolk and a few nobles were imprisoned and feared for their lives every night the fires were lit on the beach. Jon had listened with growing concern to all the facts Varys had enumerated.

“As stated before Stannis Baratheon has been contacting several major Houses for some time now and not only ones belonging to the Stormlands. This made us speculate before whether he was planning to overthrow his own brother.” Varys’ sing-song voice for once had sounded rather flat.

“Add to that that the knowledge that Ser Jorah has sent that several sellsword companies have been approached by Westerosi. Hopefully we will know how these responded when he finally shows his face in King’s Landing.” Ser Gerold had interjected.

“Mayhap the Red Woman had a vision of the future and Stannis Baratheon’s intent has been preparing to overthrow us all along?” Sam had ventured.

Varys had continued unperturbed. “It has now been confirmed that Lord Stannis Baratheon has received a visit from Euron Greyjoy.”

“Which other major houses outside of his dominion has he contacted, Lord Varys?” Davos’s question had put a stop to the mumblings of the others that had started up when Euron Greyjoy’s name had been mentioned.

“The major Lords outside the Stormlands that he has been in contact with that we know of for certain are House Tarly,” Varys’ voice had trailed off while he looked at Sam. 

Jon had nodded at Sam encouraging him to speak up. “I am the last person my father would confide in. But Jon and I, uh we spoke with my younger brother yesterday and he wrote a letter to father then and there. We should have an answer soon.”

Davos had gestured to Varys to continue his enumeration. “Stannis Baratheon has contacted House Frey, but ever since Walder Frey has been incapacitated I think we are in the clear there. His sons are neither cunning nor daring. They have been cowered into obeying all their life and will not dare to rebel. As you know a delegation of Freys is making its way here. We know for certain that he has contacted House Bolton, but here Roose Bolton’s demise has also been a blessing for us and another setback for Stannis Baratheon. Domeric Bolton immediately forwarded us the message he received and reassured us of his fealty.”

Jon had spoken up then. “He wrote to me personally to inform me that he has left the north and is travelling to King’s Landing as we speak.”

Varys had nodded and resumed. “Stannis Baratheon was even so bold as to contact House Dayne which makes me wonder if he is desperate or wants us to find out what he is planning.”

“He probably contacted House Dayne before he knew exactly what happened here and that Ser Arthur is alive and on our side.” Prince Oberyn had interjected. “But I get your meaning. He contacted large houses in several Kingdoms. We only know of a few by accident. Who knows how many requests for support he actually sent out and how many will respond now that the political situation has changed dramatically? As soon as news of the death of his Robert Baratheon reached all he corners of the realm, he has a better argument to rally them to his cause. Instead of Lord Stannis usurping his brother, he can now claim that Aegon Targaryen usurped House Baratheon. He can even start rumours that implicate us in his brother’s death.”

Oberyn had looked the young King in the eyes when he spoke in an apologetic tone. “People might believe him, Aegon. He was the heir before Robert Baratheon changed his mind on his deathbed. And many people still remember the reign of your grandfather, King Aerys II.”

Jon had frowned and looked at Varys who had stayed silent. Instead it had been Ser Gerold who had steered the discussion away from the past atrocities of the young King’s grandfather. “If I were a Lord who received a request for support from Lord Baratheon and knew of the Targaryen Restoration, it would make me would think twice to go up against dragons. I for one am more worried about Stannis heeding the advice of a Red Priestess and her Lord of Light and the likes of Euron Greyjoy. Those enemies are unpredictable and dangerous, certainly now that we have all come to understand and believe that magic does exist in this world.” 

Varys had nodded his assent. “My little birds claim that Euron Greyjoy practices black magic. Servants tell stories of how Greyjoy has sailed to faraway lands and has somehow acquired deadly magic by holding a wizard hostage and finding powerful objects. Some stories claim that he has acquired powers himself by bathing in a sacred pool, others that he died and was reborn and is immortal now. The reports are a bit confusing to say the least. I hope things will start to make more sense when new information arrives. I expect to receive several new accounts over the course of the next few days. What I know for sure is that a large part of Euron’s fleet is stationed north of Storm’s End in a bay where the sea is calmer. And that even though Yara Greyjoy claims that many of his men deserted, he still has an impressive fleet under his command. My birds report that some of Lord Baratheon’s bannermen mutter that Euron Greyjoy could sack the Stormlands with ease if he wanted to since too many Ironborn are allowed inside the castle without any precautions. They come and go as they please.”

Sam and Jon had exchanged quick glances during Varys’ discourse. But Jon had gestured to let it be for now.

“Still,“ Jon had tried to summarize the situation for now, “Stannis Baratheon has neither declared that he is my enemy, nor has he been moving troops overland in the direction of King’s Landing. He is also not sailing here yet. We still have the advantage. We have a large fleet, several armies to call upon and two large dragons. Can’t we just wait for a moon or so and then oblige Stannis to declare himself our ally or enemy? If he does not swear fealty, we take the fight to him. We can lay siege Storm’s End and when we have him surrounded, I scare him out by threatening him with dragonfire.”

“A sound plan except for one tiny detail.” Prince Oberyn had remarked. “You are known as the King who took the Iron Throne peacefully. But more importantly, in an effort to counter the rumours of a power-mad Targaryen with dragons, we spread the news that you care for your people, smallfolk and nobles alike. We have used the argument that you are more Stark than Targaryen. Everyone knows of the reputations of House Stark and what they look like. The tide has turned in our favour but we must not be naïve. Stannis will have spies in the capital and these rumours will have reached him. Most probably Baratheon won’t believe you capable of slaughter. If he is smart, he will call your bluff and put the smallfolk in the line of fire. If you are not willing to sacrifice innocent men, women and children, you will lose your tactical advantage.”

Jon had frowned. “I used the dragons at the Dreadfort. They blasted the gates so the army could enter the stronghold. I admit that I burned a few vile Bolton guards, a feat that went a long way in scaring the others to submit. But surely we can devise a plan if someone can explain the layout of Storm’s End to me? If the dragons can blast a path for our soldiers… “ 

He hadn’t finished his sentence thinking he had said all he needed to get them on board. Realising by taking in their sceptical expressions that his advisers had not been convinced, he had amended his speech. “I will not let one Kingdom stand in the way of my ultimate goal. A united Westeros is needed to fight the Night King and his vast army of wights. I can’t take my armies and dragons beyond the Wall if I need to protect King’s Landing from a possible attack by Stannis Baratheon and an unknown number of allies.”

Davos had interfered then. “Jon, let’s table this debate for now. You can’t really do anything before either Stannis declares himself or the deadline runs out. As far as we know, you still have moons, perhaps even years before the Night King shows himself again. Remember Lord Reed’s last scroll. I propose that unless Varys unearths something rather alarming or a letter from Stannis Baratheon arrives, we table this topic until after your wedding and honeymoon. I know you prefer to deal with your problems head on but these situations take time to develop. Calling banners, preparing for war, it all takes time. The enemy won’t declare war or attack before they are united and fully prepared. We probably have several moons to prepare. This is just the first sennight of you reign. Concentrate on domestic affairs.”

Jon had looked doubtful but everyone around the table had nodded their assent. Eventually he had given in but had stayed troubled all the same. Dany had not been present at that meeting. For once she had given precedence to other tasks when she had heard that the sole item on the agenda had been the possible war with the Stormlands.

After lunch, Jon had taken a stroll outside and had visited the Godswood. Even if there was no real heart tree present, it still was a place where he could find solitude. His Kingsguards had made sure that nobody entered and only one of them had followed him inside and shadowed him from a discreet distance. He debated on the possibility of Euron being the undead foe he had been warned against. Lord Reed had warned not to underestimate this foe, he would be a formidable opponent, dragons or not. 

The moment Varys had uttered something about Euron possibly being re-born, he had remembered the ritual that some Ironborn go through to prove their bravery and ability to lead. Theon had boasted about it enough to Robb. In the presence of a priest, the man is drowned, preferably in salt water and then brought back with the kiss of life. Theon had told Robb that some men didn’t survive the ritual. Most did though. Some of them were brought back after their heart had stopped beating for more than two hundred drumrolls. Those were considered as being favoured by the Drowned God.

During the meeting Jon had shared a look with Sam and had known instantly that his friend had been thinking the same thing. If Euron Greyjoy had survived such a ritual, he could qualify as the undead foe they were looking for. A drowned man brought back to life. In the Godswood, seated on the ground, leaning with his back and head against the red oak, Jon had closed his eyes in an effort to find a moment of peace. He had startled when he had heard a voice calling his name.

“Aegon, we need to talk. There are a few things you should be aware of.” 

Jon recognising Prince Oberyn’s voice, had opened his eyes and had looked up into the grave face of the Dornish Prince. He had immediately known by the Dornish Prince’s unusual demeanour that something serious was afoot. He had invited the Prince to sit down next to him and Jon had learned a few things about life in King’s Landing. It had not improved his already perturbed state of mind.

He couldn’t fault Prince Oberyn for telling him. Quite the opposite in fact, he had thanked his friend for coming forward and not protecting him from these things. He had already gathered that his upbringing had been too shielded in some ways. The Starks and his Kingsguards were all men who lived and died by their honour. And even though he knew already to some extent that not everything was black and white, it seemed that there were still things he didn’t see coming. He had learned a very valuable lesson in the Godswood that afternoon. 

Afterwards, the Prince had encouraged him to relax for a while and they had arm wrestled on a large tree trunk and indulged in other silly games that tested your reflexes. They had exited the woods at ease with each other and Jon had been fairly relaxed. Later that evening though his mind kept returning to all the things the Dornish Prince had revealed to him. For the first time since spending his evenings in Dany’s room, he had been distracted and not totally focused on her.

They were seated close together on a chair wide enough to accommodate the two of them. Jon had his arm around her shoulders. Dany was in the middle of recounting her accomplishments of the day when he sighed for the second time. She stopped abruptly and faced him.

“Want to tell me what is troubling you? Has it already become an obligation, a burden to you to come here and spend time with me?” Even though her words were rather unforgiving, the look she gave him was filled with worry.

Jon startled. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

She studied him carefully. “Aegon, something is troubling you. I noticed you ate little during supper and that you were somewhat preoccupied then also. You have been distracted before but never here when it is just us. What is the matter? Can’t you tell me?” 

He hesitated but his face softened a bit. He gave her a gentle kiss. “I can tell you. Of course I can tell you, it is just that I didn’t want to spoil our time together. I had hoped to find some reprieve here. But my thoughts keep going around in circles and won’t let me be at peace.”

She took his hand. “Then tell me. Let me help you carry the burden.”

“Even if it is not a subject suitable for our limited private time? Even if what I tell you will cause you to become troubled as well? It might even cause you to have a hard time falling asleep because you won’t feel safe anymore.”

“Now I won’t stop harassing you until you tell me.” She answered severely but then her expression softened again. “Share your burdens with me, Aegon. I’ll do all I can to make them easier for you to bear. Is it not possible that from my female perspective I can see a solution that you cannot?”

He once again gave her a light kiss. “You are right. You are absolutely right. I could use a female perspective on this although,” he hesitated, “you never had to put up with expectations from your parents or grandparents. Forgive me for saying this so crudely. But it is a fact that is at the heart of this matter.”

She studied his serious expression and he could sense her mulling over what he was hinting at. She slowly started to speak. “My brother had expectations of me. Granted, I was freed of them when he died. I still remember how guilty it made me to feel relief over his death some times. But otherwise, no, there were no expectations of my kin since I had none left. I only could guess at the expectations my parents would have had for me. I did long to return to Westeros and find some kind of connection with the history of my house.” She squeezed his hand to emphasize her next words. “I was so happy when I received your first letter. I still remember it to this day. I am glad you wrote to me as soon as you knew of our kinship.” She gave him a close mouthed kiss and withdrew when he tried to lengthen it.

“Now tell me?” She asked and installed herself so that she faced him.

Jon sighed and started to tell her all that the Tyrells had been up to. He mentioned that he heard about most of it only that afternoon, specifically the part about Lady Margaery’s involvement. He didn’t embellish nor did he leave anything out. She grew pale but kept her silence until he had finished.

“She entered my room?”

“Technically it was my room.” Jon corrected her. “She wanted to be discovered in my bed so she could claim I had compromised her and I would have been honour bound to marry her.”

“And Lady Olenna tried to poison me?”

“Yes, although we have no substantial proof. It would be her word against that of a servant. Varys is fairly sure she is the sole instigator of that plot and the other Tyrells are not complicit.”

“I owe Lord Varys and Prince Oberyn my life. You were right. This will trouble my sleep.”

“Oberyn reassured me that the poison they wanted to use was not lethal. Oberyn and Varys have taken several extra measures to limit the access to harmful substances. Ser Gerold does not know that Lady Margaery was involved, but it has been brought to his attention that there is a serious threat and he has doubled surveillance in the hallways. I would prefer to stay by your side all night but it is not yet permitted.”

She swallowed and let him install her in what had become their favourite position. She sat with her back against his chest safely between his thighs, his arms encircled her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder. 

He turned his face slightly and kissed her neck. “All the maidens of the realm can sneak into my bedroom and I will chase them all out. None of them could tempt me to take what they offered me.”

“I am a maiden.” She was happy however with his reassurances.

“You are the exception of course. I should have said all the other maidens in the realm.” He nibbled at her ear and she giggled.

Daenerys withdrew her head. “Aegon, that tickles. We need to stay serious for a bit still. You wanted my female opinion. I suppose it is in regard to Lady Margaery?”

“I do. Ever since I was told, I have been wondering about her. Is she as devious as Lady Olenna or has she been forced perhaps even terrorised into doing her grandmother’s bidding. Has her upbringing corrupted her or can she still be a kind, faithful wife to her husband once she is free from her grandmother’s influence.”

He could feel her grow still in his arms. “You are thinking of Robb Stark?” 

“He is like a brother to me. I wouldn’t want him to be tricked into caring for someone who will only use him to obtain power and will drop him as soon as a better opportunity presents itself. Perhaps they will even try to poison him when he has served his purpose.”

She stayed silent for a while. When she started to speak it was rather hesitant. “I do not know her well enough to offer an opinion. The Tyrells have not been granted many occasions to mingle with us. I don’t think anyone of us knows her well enough to either condemn her or to vouch for her.”

“Perhaps I should contrive to have a private talk with her without alerting Lady Olenna. My Kingsguard will chaperone me but stay out of hearing distance of course.”

“She would probably just start to cry and play you for a fool.” Daenerys protested and squirmed a bit in his arms. “It won’t bring us anything and if I am being honest, I would not like it one bit. Can’t anyone else do it?”

Jon turned her sideways and gave her the kiss she had solicited earlier. When he released her again they were both slightly out of breath. He touched the tip of her nose with his finger in an admonishing gesture. “You’re the only one I want to kiss all the time.”

But then his expression sobered again. “Varys is gathering as much information on Lady Margaery as he can. Soon we will know how kind she is to her handmaidens, the lower servants, her guards, in short, how she treats anyone she interacts with. But how that will help us find out whether she will be faithful to a prospective husband?”

“What if I try to befriend her, invite her to tea or for a stroll? And then talk to her about crushes on boys and subtly ask her what kind of men she prefers? You know, girl talk? Perhaps I can even steer the conversation to what living with an overbearing grandmother is like, one that is known far and wide as the Queen of Thornes?”

“Do girls that hardly know each other really talk of such things? Won’t she be suspicious if you ask her things like that? I suppose you could invite her for a stroll or whatever you ladies do to pass the time.” She playfully raised an eyebrow at him but he stayed serious. “Perhaps you might find out a little what she is like. But be careful if you venture on her territory. Don’t eat or drink anything and excuse yourself without causing suspicion.” He paused and was about to recant the entire thing when she reacted.

“Aegon, didn’t your uncle write to you once that he had a conversation with her soon after she arrived in King’s Landing. He deemed her suitable to marry his son and heir. I recall you telling me that he was so impressed by her that he even wanted to betroth them before Robb and Lady Margaery had the opportunity to meet each other.”

“I’m not sure I can trust my uncle’s judgement in this. Besides, I can’t tell Uncle Ned any of this yet.” Jon protested. “If he gets wind of this, he will cut Lady Margaery. Even if it turns out that she is a victim and acted out of fear for her grandmother. Even if we had absolute proof of that, my uncle will not find her fit to become his good-daughter any longer. He abhors deceit and she will have played him perfectly. He will never again believe anything she tells him.”

“What a mess. But surely you would tell Robb before a deal was struck. Even if you can forgive her, he would have to live with her for the rest of his life. They can’t have such a secret between the two of them.”

“I hadn’t thought that far yet. But you are right. If Lady Margaery turns out to be decent and kind and a betrothal between them is back on the table, then Robb should know. Before I could allow anything to move forward, Lady Margaery should confess it to him herself. That would be the only way I can see it work. If we ever get that far anyway.”

“I agree.” Dany said with a heavy sigh, looking rather glum.

Jon sighed as well and tightened his hold on her. “If I had my way, Lady Olenna would be banned from Court. I would imprison her in Highgarden and forbid her to have contact with the outside world. Her kin would have to enforce her isolation on the pains of losing all status if they failed.”

“That would only be possible if you could prove what she did. If not, such actions would endanger peace in the realm. We need to keep the Reach on our side, Aegon.”

“I am aware of that. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why are people so obsessed with power?”

“Says the man who wants to rule Westeros.” When Jon stiffened, Dany quickly added. “I was kidding, Aegon. There is not a sliver of doubt that you are different. You have an ulterior motive and a true claim.”

“And I am not some power hungry mad Targaryen. I would ask for nothing more than to live happily ever after with my loved ones somewhere safe and have just enough of everything to stay healthy and live in peace. I didn’t ask to be this King that was Promised. I didn’t ask to be born with a birthright and a larger than life destiny. We need Westeros united. The dead are the only enemy that count. I can’t help but think that we are being way too accommodating to the Tyrells. The Reach owes the Targaryens everything and we have two large dragons to intimidate them.”

“Don’t focus solely on your troubles and responsibilities but stop for a moment and count your blessings, Aegon. You have so many. Think of all the honourable men that support you and guide you. You have so many friends and resources. And where others are forced to marry someone they hardly know you can marry for …” She couldn’t finish her sentence because he had shifted their position slightly and had captured her mouth. No words were being spoken for a long time.

 

***

The next morning during breakfast a servant came running up to Ser Gerold who stood guard by the door and handed him a small scroll. After he had read it, Ser Gerold approached the table. “Your Grace, Princess, we can expect Ser Jorah to arrive soon. His ship has docked early this morning. Shall I put him on the list of people to swear allegiance before the royal court this afternoon?”

Dany looked at Jon with pleading eyes. “I would very much like to see him before that. Will he be allowed in our presence before his formal pledge?”

Jon smiled at her and turned to his Lord Commander. “He can make his pledge in private, Ser Gerold. Ask Ser Barristan to join us, will you? If Ser Jorah agrees to join the Dragonguard, he should have an outfit with our sigil at the ready. Send someone to escort him here. He must be made welcome.”

“Thank you, Aegon.” Dany gave him a close mouthed kiss and blushed when Ser Gerold coughed. They were in what Ser Gerold considered as ‘public’ since servants were coming and going with plates and pitchers. He didn’t say the actual words but Dany could read them from the Lord Commander’s face.

“What are your plans this morning, Aegon?” She asked quickly to cover her embarrassment.

“Read the newly arrived messages, hear the latest reports, placate Davos and then finally have a long overdue meeting with Sam.” 

Dany knew Sam was researching the Long Night and fire resistant substances and was also looking into alternate ways to control dragons and the properties of Valyrian steel. Jon had told her to keep that last fact a secret. He wouldn’t want to get his advisers’ hope up or put Sam and Gendry in danger when word got out that they had a fair chance to produce new Valyrian Steel for the first time in centuries. If they succeeded it would be an invaluable find, one people would be willing to kill for. 

She nodded and whispered back. “Then I wish you strength. We will see each other at Court and later tonight. 

Jon was about to respond when Davos interfered. “Your Grace, perhaps we can have a word this morning. There are some things you need to know.”

“Of course, Lord Seaworth,” Jon made it a point to address him by his new title every time Davos called him ‘your Grace’, “I was just finished here anyway.” He gave Dany a quick kiss on her lips and looked defiantly at Ser Gerold challenging him to chastise his King. Ser Gerold merely raised his right eyebrow. Jon smiled and left the room with Davos in tow.

 

***

As soon as Jon had left, Dany smiled at Lady Ashara. “I’ll meet you at the seamstress shortly before lunch.” She nodded at Sam who smiled sheepishly in response and then asked Ser Barristan to follow her outside. Dany was strolling around the rose garden to pass the time until Ser Jorah arrived. Ser Barristan followed a step behind her. Suddenly she stopped and turned toward him.

“I noticed you hardly leave my side, Ser Barristan. I know that the guards have been doubled outside my door at night but you are there every time I go to sleep and are also the first one I see when I venture outside my room in the morning. Do you get enough rest?”

“When you get to my age, you don’t need as much sleep. And there is a real threat. We are not just being overcautious. I heard the King informed you last night. Ser Gerold and I are of one mind here. You need to be protected, Princess. And we trust no one as much as the four of us.”

“What about Ser Jorah?” She asked him. “Will you trust him?”

“I hope so, Princess. In any event we will know soon enough. Much will depend on how he reacts to the situation. I will not press him into service but will engage him in conversation and inform him of the pending threat. If he really cares and worries about you, he will not want to leave your side after hearing that your life is in danger. He will pledge himself to your service immediately with our without our blessing. That is how a true sworn shield would act.”

“I understand, Ser Barristan. Knowing Ser Jorah, you will not be disappointed. He guarded me faithfully long before you came to take me to Westeros.”

“He did not follow you as soon as he could have.” Ser Barristan countered. “He lingered in Pentos much longer than necessary.”

“Test him if you must, Ser Barristan. I understand and promise neither to interfere nor warn him. Tell me, will the four of you ever allow others to join your ranks as equals?”

“They will have to prove themselves first. Ser Gerold is in charge of the selection. I will become more involved as soon as things settle down a bit.” His posture stiffened and he reassumed his posture as a Kingsguard when he heard footsteps along the path.

Dany smiled. “It is Ser Jorah. They must have told him to find us here.”

Ser Jorah immediately kneeled before her. “Your servant, my Princess. I have returned and am yours to command.”

“Please rise, Ser Jorah. I am delighted to see you. You remember Ser Barristan? He has been appointed as Commander of my Dragonguard.”

“Then I humbly ask to be allowed to serve under him. I was happy to hear of your betrothal. I can imagine no one more suitable to be Queen than you, my Princess.”

“Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan decide the appointments, Ser Jorah.” She answered and then changed the subject with an innocent expression on her face. “You stayed away longer than I expected. I was getting worried.”

“I apologize, Princess. I hesitated at first, unsure if Ned Stark as Hand of the King would still want to carry out my sentence and I confess that I jumped at the opportunity to prove my usefulness in another way when I got the assignment to contact the sellsword companies in Essos to find out whether they had been offered contracts to fight in Westeros. It took some time before I was able to track them all down and send a full report. If it means anything to you, I did board a ship for Dragonstone before I knew of the abdication.” 

Dany looked at Ser Barristan and gestured for the loyal knight to handle this further. 

“You will need to swear your allegiance to King Aegon before you will be allowed to roam the keep or be in the presence of the King or Princess unaccompanied.” Ser Barristan’s tone left no room for misinterpretation. 

Ser Jorah didn’t startle at the slight. Instead he was quick to respond in a calm manner. “I understand, Ser Barristan. I wouldn’t think highly of the Kingsguard if they allowed otherwise.”

“Then follow us.” Ser Barristan ordered him formally. “The King has been informed of your arrival and has agreed to make time for you this morning.”

Dany smiled encouragingly at Ser Jorah and the three of them walked in the direction of the Red Keep.

 

***

 

**A few days later**

 

It was day eight of his reign. The tournament was set to start two days hence. Jon was just finishing up another tedious session of oath-takings in the throne room when the large doors opened. His Kingsguard immediately took a more alert stance, hand on the pommel of their sword, ready to defend their King and future Queen. Jon’s gaze wandered to the end of the hall curious to see what was causing this disturbance. Such an occurrence had not happened before. His frown disappeared quickly and a happy smile broke over his face when the large dark silhouette of his uncle flanked by a white direwolf entered his line of vision. 

Only a few women kept their gaze on the young King, who looked even more handsome now that a real smile graced his already comely features. The others present were gaping at the new arrivals. Almost everyone stood frozen to the spot. The unlucky ones standing close to the aisle were backing away and several exclamations of surprise and fear rang throughout the hall.

Uncle Benjen and Ghost not minding the reaction their appearance caused swiftly crossed the room. They had eyes only for Jon and halted closer to the throne than protocol strictly allowed. Benjen Stark swiftly knelt and pledged his allegiance loud and clear. Ghost lowered his front legs and bowed his head in submission. Jon smiled at Ghost’s theatricals and realised that this encounter would made tongs waggle throughout the realm even more than his short flights with Dany on Rhaegal already did.

He had risen from his throne when they neared but instead of pronouncing the usual response from high up, he descended the stairs glad that his leg had healed well enough to do that without limping. He put his hand on his uncle’s shoulder when he pronounced the formal lines with heartfelt emotion. His words had never rung so true. Uncle Benjen would always have a place by his side. Both men smiled genuinely at each other. 

A quick gesture to Davos and his loyal Hand formally ended the court session and ushered everyone outside. Jon took off his crown and coat and handed them to Ser Gerold. Then he guided Dany closer and performed the by all parties highly anticipated introductions.

Uncle, may I present to you my betrothed, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen? Dany, this is my most esteemed Uncle, Prince Benjen of House Stark who, as I already explained to you on more than one occasion, is as dear as a father to me.”

Uncle Benjen didn’t hesitate and pulled the Princess into a warm embrace. “Pleased to meet you, Princess. Jon told me much about you and it seems he didn’t exaggerate.”

“I’m pleased to meet you as well, Prince Stark.” A welcome smile graced her features.

“Call me Uncle Benjen. I will be your good-uncle soon enough. When is the wedding by the way?”

A reply had to wait for a bit because Ghost made his presence known by nudging Jon impatiently. Jon made sure that the doors were firmly closed before he allowed Ghost to put his front legs on his shoulders. He embraced his direwolf and without uttering a single word he conveyed his relief to Ghost that he had made the long journey without looking any worse for the wear. If anything he looked stronger and larger. After a lengthy greeting, he released him and turned to Dany to complete the introductions. Ghost waited patiently back on all fours until his human had spoken the necessary words. “Dany, this is my loyal companion and fiercest protector, please meet Ghost. He is very much willing to allow you to become a member of his pack.” 

Dany slowly reached out her hand and let Ghost sniff it. When she saw how gently the large direwolf first smelled her hand and then licked it tentatively, she ran her other hand over the white fur of the wolf’s head. Her eyes were moist when she looked at Jon. “He is gorgeous, Aegon. You are so blessed.”

“I am.” Jon’s hand covered hers and together they petted the direwolf. “I hope you can get used to him. Ghost is accustomed to staying close to me, day and night.” His eyes searched hers but she returned his look calmly.

“I’ll certainly try on my end.” She promised. “Should I leave you and your uncle alone for a bit?”

“If you don’t mind?” Jon took her hands in his and looked grateful. 

She gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek and after a long lingering look between the two of them and a nod toward Uncle Benjen, she freed her hands and left through the side door, Ser Barristan following close behind.

Benjen turned to him as soon as Daenerys was out of sight. “My, my, you have all the luck in the world, my boy. She is not only beautiful and kind but loves you to pieces as well.”

Jon hugged his uncle now, clinging to him for a while. “I’m so glad you made it here safe and sound.”

“And I was glad to hear the report of the peaceful transition from Baratheon to Targaryen dynasty. Although I am sorry to have missed your first days as King, Nephew. That crown on your head takes some getting used to.”

Jon took a step back. “Join me in my room for a moment? I want to talk to you in private. My Kingsguards will stay in the hallway there.”

One by one Benjen Stark greeted the three Kingsguards who stood at a discreet distance with a nod and a smile. After stepping closer to Ser Gerold and whispering a few words into the knight’s ear he turned back to his nephew. “Of course I’ll join you in your room. Lead the way.”

Jon by now knowing his way around the Red Keep, at least to the more frequently used rooms, walked him to his temporary quarters and closed the door behind him and Ghost. His uncle looked around. “Not impressed, Jon.”

Jon raised his eyebrows and smiled disarmingly while he pointed at a chair for his uncle to sit in. “I transfer to my new quarters on my wedding day. I was assigned these temporary accommodations because I chose to adhere to the advice of the Maester not to climb stairs if I could help it. I am mostly recovered now though. I started my daily trainings again this morning.”

Both men sat down on simple wooden chairs that stood at the foot of Jon’s modest bed. Ghost sat on the other side of Jon and put his head in the young man’s lap. Benjen smiled when he saw how Jon and Ghost cherished each other’s company. He turned his chair a fraction so he could stretch his legs.

“I see now that we have even more to talk about. I didn’t know you had been hurt.” His uncle remarked seriously and studied his nephew from head to toe.

“I got wounded during the battle near Hardhome. Just a nasty cut on my right thigh and a smaller one on my left arm, courtesy of the army of the death. I’d prefer it if we kept the battle stories for another time. There are lots of other topics that we need to catch up on. We can make a start now. I have until supper. You know, you are lucky to arrive on a day that we dine in small company. Tomorrow we hold another grand royal banquet to which you are formally invited of course, Prince Stark.” Jon inclined his head slightly. His hand right hand was absently petting Ghost’s head and the wolf was clearly enjoying the attention.

Benjen rolled his eyes. “I don’t feel like a Prince. But I will enjoy meeting my brother again. And after our sibling reunion has been celebrated, or perhaps I might wait a few days, I will have a few choice words to say to my elder brother.”

“Tell me first?” Jon asked. “Perhaps together we can make sense of the situation. I gather you are talking about Robb’s behaviour?”

“I am. He is a good lad, truly. Only he needs someone to remind him that he is not yet qualified to rule the same way his father does. He needs someone to keep him grounded. I have pondered the issue a lot. Weeks on horseback riding along a well-kept Kingsroad that I have travelled often ever since you were born, gave me ample time to let my mind wander. More so the latter part, since I had a protector and needn’t be so alert all the time.” He reached out and scratched Ghost behind his ears.

“Anyway, I remembered all you told me about how Robb behaved when he was in your company. Each time he acted out, you could get him to see reason and he became a better person the longer he spent time with you and was away from Winterfell. Apparently you got through to him in a way I did not.”

Benjen looked at Jon who nodded slowly while he mulled over his uncle’s words. 

“However, once he is apart from you and back under his mother’s influence he grows convinced of his own consequence once more. When his father is away, Robb’s word is law and his mother encourages him to use this authority in every aspect of his daily routines. I also noticed that when he read letters from you or when you were mentioned and he was confronted with all the ways you outshine him, not only did Lady Catelyn get irritated but also Robb’s resentment built. The best thing would be for Ned to return to Winterfell and for Robb to travel so he can learn how the world outside of Winterfell works. I would like for him to spend some time with you here in King’s Landing. My hope is that here, amongst all sorts of nobles and knights, he will learn by example how you can be respected even if you are humble at times when dealing with your lesser and that you do not need to conceal the fact that you heed the advice of others.”

Jon’s face fell when his uncle’s words registered. The hand stroking Ghost stilled. “Do you mean to say that one of the reasons you fell out was because of me? Lord Reed did not mention that in his letter.”

Benjen Stark shook his head and tried to amend his words. “First of all we did not fall out as such. I should have been more careful, tempered my speech somewhat when I spoke about this with Howland Reed. I was still feeling hurt. Rob and I,” he sighed, “Rob and I uh, let’s say we merely agreed after several uh altercations that my presence was not really needed at Winterfell any longer. Secondly, it was not about you. Not really. Your name only came up when our disagreement was well underway.”

Jon pursed his lips and ignored Ghost who was quietly begging for attention by rubbing his head against his thigh. “Then please enlighten me. What did you disagree about that caused him to chase you away? Because that is what happened, no matter how carefully you attempt to phrase it now.” Jon looked at his lap and was mollified when he saw two loyal eyes looking at him as if they commiserated with everything he said. He ran his hand through the white fur again and Ghost relaxed visibly. Jon calmed down a bit as well.

His uncle no longer concealed the hurt that shone in his blue eyes. “I blame my brother. He instructs his son to rule with absolute authority, and forbids him to heed the advice of others. I told you this before. During my stay at Winterfell, we often disagreed. He even admitted that his father, in one of his messages…” Benjen faltered and swallowed. He immediately tried again. “Uh that my brother had ordered him to ignore my help and to turn down the offers of help from others as well. According to Robb, his father absolutely forbade the founding of anything resembling a small council to govern the North. 

Benjen and Jon exchanged a meaningful glance. Benjen Stark swallowed again and searched for the right turn of phrase. “It all uh worsened when he started to disagree with me just because he could, whether it made sense or not. Things kind of escalated from there. In our last big uh discussion he accused me of always favouring you and that he knew for sure that I was counting the days before I could leave Winterfell and hurry south to you.”

Jon gently pushed Ghost’s head out of his lap and the wolf moved so his large head now warmed his human’s feet. This way, Jon was able to lean forward slightly and put his hand on his uncle’s knee in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that, Uncle. But are you sure you were patient enough with Robb? He was largely traumatised not that long ago.”

Benjen put his hand on top of Jon’s. “I know that he was. Believe me. That doesn’t mean he can act like a spoilt brat all the time. It is not as if he doesn’t know what he is doing. Besides, I always formulated my advice as diplomatically as possible and made sure he knew it was just that, advice that he could heed or ignore, nothing more, nothing less.” 

Benjen Stark in order to defend himself in Jon’s eyes momentarily forgot that he wanted to spare Robb. No longer concealing how deeply Robb had wounded him with his behaviour he blurted out, “He hurt me on purpose, Jon. He chose his words deliberately. He clearly intended to drive me away. That last night when he was drunk, the things he called me in front of witnesses. The way he exerted his authority over me, humiliated me for all to hear …”

“Because he wanted his father to be proud of him.” Jon explained his cousin’s behaviour but turned his hand that lay on his uncle’s knee upwards so he could grasp his uncle’s hand better and squeezed it in support. When his uncle met his eyes, Jon smiled wanly and continued.  
“The root of the problem as you stated yourself was caused by Uncle Ned. He wants his son to rule the North with neither proper preparation nor experience and forces him to do it entirely on his own. And then he burdens his young heir with expectations so high that almost anybody would fail. As you pointed out, Robb has not seen much of the realm. He has hardly left Winterfell. He had never been allowed take part in negotiations with their bannermen nor attended trade talks before his father went south. Add to that his recent imprisonment and torture. Don’t misunderstand me, Uncle. I know that he was in the wrong, totally in the wrong but,” Jon threw his uncle an apologetic look. “I can’t help but feel sorry for him, Uncle Benjen. I hate the fact that he hurt you but I so long to help him.”

Benjen sighed. “Me too, Jon. But you see, I did nothing but help him for a time. Hells, I even abandoned your cause and missed the first days of your reign only to be resented for it by the very person I wanted to help.” He shook his head. “I had to give up for a while. He said things that made it impossible for me to stay.”

Benjen gently withdrew his hand and rubbed his chin. He took a deep breath. “Let us drop that subject for now. I need to talk to my brother about this and hopefully we can find a solution. Let me enjoy my time here with you now. I’m so glad I finally got here and can talk openly and honestly with you.” 

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Ser Gerold stepped inside the room.

“Prince Stark, we did as you requested. May we bring the item inside?”

Jon stared at his uncle, a question in his eyes. His uncle nodded at Ser Gerold and two men ushered a large tree inside the room.

Jon’s eyes widened and a broad smile broke over his face. “Lord Reed gave this to you, I presume?”

“You presume right. He told me you had asked for a weirwood sapling and although he had previously planned to bring it along himself, he was not sure that he would reach King’s Landing in time for the wedding. It was the largest one he had available. It slowed me down some but seeing your eyes light up just now, made it worth all the hassle it caused me.”

Jon circled the tree that two apprentice guards had brought in. It was still slender but already stood as tall as he was. Jon waited until the apprentices had left and hugged his uncle. Ser Gerold smiled when he closed the door. He had often wondered about the Seven and the Old Gods. It didn’t matter much though. If his King was happy, then all was good in the realm.

Jon in the meanwhile had released his uncle and both men had regained their seats. Ghost was sniffing the tree curiously.

“I owe you one, Uncle.”

“Then by all means, oblige me. I want to hear all about your encounter with the former King. Did your cousin’s vision really happen? Did you truly kneel before Robert Baratheon?”

 

***

 

Supper that night was a casual affair. Benjen Stark greeted everyone most heartily. Both brothers were visibly content to see each other again and embraced warmly. They quickly consented to keep to neutral topics for now and speak privately on the morrow. Prince Oberyn teased Benjen about his new status of Prince of the North asking him with mock deference whether he was still allowed to address him as Stark or Benjen. 

Lady Ashara was the only one who needed to be formally introduced to Prince Benjen of House Stark. She had become a regular companion during their meals. Princess Daenerys often invited her to have another female companion present. Ghost just sniffed her hand once and then wormed himself under the table and lay quietly opposite Jon’s feet. He slept through the entire meal and the only downside of his position was that the chair opposite Jon stayed empty to accommodate the direwolf’s large body.

This time Benjen was given the seat to Jon’s left and he started the conversation by asking whether Lady Dayne still remembered meeting him. Knowing full well that everyone present was already familiar with the story of their awkward dance at Harrenhal, Lady Ashara had no qualms teasing Benjen Stark.

“Has your dancing prowess improved over the years, Prince Stark? Or do the Ladies still need to protect their toes?”

Benjen Stark faltered for a moment but then quickly regained his composure. “I have received, on occasion, some compliments from more than one dance partner. I heard there will be a champion’s ball and a wedding feast in the coming days. Would you be so kind as to accept my hand for one dance at the event of your choice? After your remarks, my Stark honour must be redeemed.”

“Then I have no choice but to graciously accept, Prince Stark. I promise to reserve you one dance at each event.” She inclined her head formally but her eyes looked teasingly into his.

When the conversation fell silent, Davos introduced the news that Lord Frey had suffered an apoplexy whilst reading the raven proclaiming King Aegon of House Targaryen the Sixth as King of the Seven Kingdom as well as his upcoming wedding to Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen. The old Lord was paralysed and consequently bedridden. Nevertheless they were to expect a small delegation of sons of Lord Frey to descend on the capital to swear their allegiance in his stead. They would arrive in the capital accompanied by several of their maiden kin to join the ones already in King’s Landing.

Frey jokes were exchanged by all then. The most prominent one being Jon pouting that he had been the only male in the realm to have been overlooked by House Frey. He lamented that everyone else had been deemed suitable enough to become a good-son of Walder Frey whilst he had never received a single one of the abundance of infamous letters plaguing the nobles of the realm. 

A bit later the subject changed to the tournament that was to start on the day after next and then to the wedding and coronation ceremony. For practical reasons, Jon and Dany had agreed to hold the ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor on the day following the conclusion of the tournament. That way nobody needed to linger in King’s Landing longer than necessary. Many nobles had arrived in the capital almost two moons ago when King Robert had initially announced the tournament and would be glad to finally return to their homes. 

Jon and Dany issued an invitation to all present to witness their intimate exchange of their wedding vows in the Godswood set for the night before the pompous wedding in the Sept. They would need to slip away from the champion’s celebration but Jon did not wanted to delay another day and refused to say his vows in the Sept and honour the Seven first. To him the Old Gods were the only ones who could truly bless their union. When Lady Ashara had objected that she was not really kin, Dany insisted that she would be most welcome and that they counted on her to be present. Everyone supported these words and the she relented and thanked them for the honour.

Later in Dany’s bedroom, Jon brought up the subject of her ladies-in-waiting wondering if despite her age, Lady Ashara would not make an excellent candidate. 

“That thought had crossed my mind also. For the moment, she certainly acts as one but I do not want to appoint anyone officially before our honeymoon is over.” She blushed. “I will only bring Irri with me and she will make herself scarce.”

Jon nodded. “Irri has only been present at breakfast and once or twice at lunch, never during supper. How come?”

Dany sighed. “I wanted to elevate her to the status of Lady-in-Waiting but she talked about it with Lady Dayne and I needed to concede that I did not think about all the repercussions. A Queen can’t ignore protocol and changing the rules must be done gradually.”

“I know.” Jon pulled her closer to her. “Everything was so simple when we imagined all this and made plans on Dragonstone. Reality and protocol resists us every step of the way. I can’t even talk to Ser Arthur when I want to.”

Dany laughed suddenly. “Poor Queen and unfortunate King are feeling sorry for themselves. The smallfolk should hear us.”

“Count our blessings, eh,” Jon kissed her.

“That’s one at least,” she said, touching his mouth with her fingers as soon as he released her mouth.

Jon smiled and looked at Ghost who was eying them curiously from where he lay in front of the door. Dany had not protested when Ghost had refused to leave Jon’s side and had entered her bedroom as if it was the most normal thing in the world. _‘And that is as it should be.’_ Jon thought while he looked into his direwolf’s eyes. Ghost put his head on his front legs and relaxed. 

Jon turned his attention back on Dany when he noticed her leaning towards him. He immediately reciprocated and pulled her closer, his mouth covering hers again. _‘Only five more nights.’_ He would count that as a blessing too.

 

 

**Interlude 37 : A matter of opinion**

“How can he be a Targaryen?” The head cook was stirring the soup with more vigour than necessary. “His hair is dark and curly and his eyes are almost black. I served here when Prince Rhaegar was a toddler. I saw him grow up. Now that boy was a real Targaryen with deep purple eyes and silver white hair. I bet he was taller than this new King as well.”

“All those pompous nobles kneel before him, so it must be true.” James, the senior footman ventured but made sure to keep his tone non-committal so that Cook, known for his foul temper would not take offense. Cook liked him anyway since James brought in all the gossip he overheard while waiting on the table of the King. 

The cook had stopped stirring and gestured wildly with the large spoon. “These lazy good for nothing highborns are all cowards and wouldn’t dare to question his claim. The only thing that makes me consider the possibility that he might be half-Targaryen after all is that the three White Cloaks and Ser Barristan the Bold support his claim. I’ve never known more honourable men than those knights. It was very welcome news to learn that the three missing ones survived the Rebellion.”

“They sure look pretty in their uniform. Did you see the new sigil?” A small young girl that was peeling potatoes couldn’t resist joining the conversation. A plump matron named Gilean slapped the side of the young servant’s head. “Keep your mouth shut when the senior staff is talking, girl.”

“Those knights look even more formidable than before the Rebellion.” Gilean addressed the cook as she added more flour to the mixture that she was kneading. “But the King even with dark hair looks very handsome. No wonder the Princess is head over heels.”

“I never understood that custom. The only two left of their house and they marry one another.” James chimed in.

“Royals follow no rules. They just do as they please.” The cook grumbled and checked the ingredients that had been laid out for him to create the meat pies for tonight’s supper. “Though I must admit that I have had no complaints so far. Not even when you added too much salt to the bread yesterday, Gilean. At least the new King is not too fussy.”

“My brother who has a position in the City Guard spotted the dragons yesterday. If he has dragons, he must be a real Targaryen.” Gilean was quick to continue her favourite topic. “My brother’s wife even claims she saw the new King and his betrothed riding the green dragon when she was out on the docks two days ago to buy some fish.”

“Just what we needed, dragons in King’s Landing. We were damned lucky that the Mad King had no dragons.” The cook muttered and slammed his fist on the table. “Where are those onions that I ordered? Don’t tell me these shrivelled abominations are all I have to work with.” He turned to a small boy that sat crouched in the corner trying to make himself inconspicuous. “You there, make yourself useful and go ask the head housekeeper to come down here and explain herself. Tell her to bring the key to the cabinet with the spirits. I’ll need a thimbleful for the sauce I’ll be making later.”

The young boy quickly got to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen. He ran along the corridor and sprinted up the stairs. He was still catching his breath when he overheard two guards that were patrolling the hallway. He made sure to stay out of sight.

“Think we will be going back north anytime soon?” A tall guard asked his shorter colleague.

“I don’t think so. I heard Lady Stark is coming to the capital with her daughters. Too bad the King is betrothed. Lady Sansa would have made a beautiful Queen.” Joni knew this younger one that had answered. Not by name no, but the man had once allowed him to hide when he was not where he was supposed to be. In his mind Joni called him his guard-friend.

“Is that why you always choose a redhead in the brothel. You fancy Lady Sansa?” He heard the tall one say.

Joni’s guard-friend blushed. “For heaven’s sake. Keep your voice down. I don’t go around spilling your secrets, do I? Or were you so drunk that you don’t remember how you described your secret fantasies to me the other day. I might fancy Lady Sansa but you dream of rescuing the fair blond Princess from her ogre of a Nephew. You even told us how you dreamt that the fair maiden Princess offered you her virginity after you rescued her and then described at length what you would do to her once you had her on your furs.”

Now it was the taller guard’s turn to look embarrassed. “My dreams don’t hurt anyone and you must admit that the Princess is a beauty. And I bet you she is still a virgin. How could a man resist? She passed me by the other day and I could get a whiff. She smells even sweeter than she looks.” 

Joni had to strain his ears to hear that last part since both guards disappeared from sight when they turned around the corner. The young boy quickly crossed the hallway and climbed the other staircase hoping that the housekeeper was supervising the cleaning of the royal bedroom as usual at this time of the day.

Two young housemaids were busy making a very large bed and didn’t see him come in.

“Today the King smiled at me and asked for my name.” Sirai, a junior maid sighed. “He looks even more handsome when he smiles. I think he fancies me.”

“Don’t be silly, Sirai. The King is just being polite and kind. I heard others tell me the exact same thing.” This time it was Nila who spoke up. The young errant boy liked Nila. She always ruffled his hair and said he reminded her of her younger brother. Once she even gave him a small piece of cake her mistress had left on her plate. 

“Has he asked for your name too?” Sirai asked Nila.

“No, but then I have never encountered him in a hallway. Just ask the guards. The first time he sees them, he asks for their names and then the next time he greets them by it. He remembers them all.”

“Next time,” Sirai swallowed. “Next time he will speak my name?” She almost swooned.

“Aye.” The young messenger made his presence known. “He knows my name and wasn’t mad when I bumped into him by accident.”

Nila walked over to him and straightened his wayward locks. “Joni, how many times must we tell you to mind where you are going?”

“But I am the fastest and the King was not mad. He is nice. Much nicer than that fat grumpy one we had before. I like King Aegon!”

“Don’t we all.” Nila remarked drily and looked pointedly at Sirai.

“Don’t look at me like that. He is a King, he is young and handsome, not to mention a dragonrider and a war hero. And he has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. How can a girl not lose her heart to him?”

“But he will marry the most beautiful Princess in the entire realm very soon.” Joni stated the obvious.

“Yeah, a virgin bride. I overheard her talking with her handmaiden. You know the strange Essosi one? The Princess had her moonblood today. Better now than on her wedding day.” She moved around the bed and bumped into the boy.

“Why are you still here, Joni?” Sirai said with a severe look on her face. If Cook hears you have been dallying.”

“Sirai!” Nila admonished her. “Don’t tell on the boy and don’t scare him. Do you want to trade places and work with Cook all day?”

Sira shook her head. “No way in Seven Hells. And I wasn’t going to tell on Joni. The brat is useful. Who else would inform us when the coast is clear so we can sneak out undetected to visit our male friends every seventh day?”

Joni was quick to speak up. “Now it is your turn to help me. I am looking for the main housekeeper. Cook needs her in the kitchen at once. Do you know where she is?”

“She is downstairs tending personally to the King’s temporary quarters.”

Joni was sprinting down the stairs before she had finished her sentence. He knew very well where the brave, nice King was sleeping. 

“A King in such a shabby room and everyone just nods and lets him do as he pleases. I saw him mount the stairs two steps at a time this morning. That leg of his is healed all right.” Joni heard the housekeeper muttering to another servant girl, one he didn’t know by name. He studied her thoroughly so he could describe the new maid to Lord Varys. 

“The new King acts very strange. I overheard him speaking with the fat one, Lord Tarly. You know who I mean?” The housekeeper continued.

“I do.” The nameless maid replied demurely.

“Well he called him Jon. Not my King, not your Grace, not even Aegon. Just Jon. And that is not all. Did you know he has no manservant? He dresses himself and if he needs assistance he asks a Kingsguard.”

The young maid made a strange noise. Apparently that reaction encouraged the housekeeper to continue her diatribe.

“Not just any guard. A White Cloak. Can you imagine that? The Sword of the Morning, the noble Ser Arthur Dayne performing the duties of a manservant as if he were some lowly squire? Someone needs to speak up. This can’t continue. If word gets out, our young King will become a laughingstock. And have you seen how he always wears the same outfit? No one will take him seriously. No Jerrel, tuck that corner in again. Even if the bed is not fit for a King, at least his furs will be arranged as best we can.”

“Oh but they will take him seriously. How can they not? Our Targaryen King has dragons and I am told he is the best swordsman in the entire realm. They claim that he can beat Prince Oberyn, spear against sword, mind you. And my friend was present in the courtyard at Dragonstone a while back where he saw with his own eyes how the King bested your noble Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur.”

“Don’t believe everything they tell you. And don’t fall for the King’s pretty face.” The housekeeper warned.

Jerrel, the young maid blushed and Joni made sure to remember her name. He liked how soft her voice sounded when she defended the nice King. He listened carefully when she spoke again.

“My lover, he told me that he received a letter from Winterfell from his younger brother. The letter states that Prince Aegon – he was no King yet when he stayed at Winterfell – took on four armed men at once and beat them soundly. He fought with a sword in each hand.”

“Just like Ser Arthur?” Joni spoke before thinking, betraying his position.

Joni, what are you doing here?” The housekeeper turned and finally spotted him.

The young boy smiled at the housekeeper and made a small bow. “You are wanted in the kitchen, Ma’am. Cook wants you to bring the key of the spirit cabinet as well.”

Even though he would have liked to have heard more, he would earn some extra sweets later when he told Lord Varys all that he had learned today. He had memorised all the words, even the strange one: moonblood.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we follow Gendry to Winterfell.


	38. A stag in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry visits Winterfell. In the interlude we get to meet Arianne Martell.  
> The main chapter resumes where chapter 33 ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to my beta Ravenousreadr!  
> I would also like to take this opportunity to thank all my readers who commented and or left kudos. When I started this project, I never imagined it would get this intense or this long. It is getting harder to keep the deadlines. So please keep commenting and leaving kudos. For the remainder of the year, I will need the extra boost. Apart from work, family and my social life, the coming weeks I will be involved in charity work as well. Chapter 39 will be posted on time. I might need a bit more time for the next few but will keep you informed.  
> Now back to the story.

*

**Near Hardhome**

“Don’t tell me I just missed him.” Jaime Lannister jumped of his horse that was sweating profusely.   
His eyes wandered from the dragons that were nothing more than small dots on the horizon to the small group who stood there looking as forlorn as he felt.

“You just fucking missed him.” Sandor was the one to point out the obvious. “Get used to it. He does that all the time.”

“Doesn’t seem as if any of you is used to it yet.” Jaime eyed the group curiously. “Lord Loras of House Tyrell and Lady Brienne of House Tarth, it is a pleasure meeting you.” He bowed in their direction and then acknowledged the others. “Tormund, Edd, Sandor, Gendry and this lady might be?”

“I am not a Lady, I am a spearwife, Sandor is my husband.” She hooked her arm through Sandor’s to stake her claim.

“Then you must be the Ygritte. Your reputation precedes you. Pleased to meet you as well.”

“Stop with the courtesies already. We have no need of your company, Lannister. Crawl back to Castle Black.” Lady Brienne bristled. 

Jaime chuckled inwardly. The only thing missing was smoke coming out of her ears and nose. He couldn’t help but admire her though. She looked formidable. Once more jealousy hit him when he was reminded that she would soon serve as a Kingsguard to King Aegon and he would be stuck at the Wall.

“Brienne,” Loras admonished her. “He saved Prince Jon’s life. Your Prince will not have us disparage his saviour.”

Brienne gritted her teeth. “I apologize. But don’t expect any thanks from me.”

“None needed.” For some reason Jaime wanted to rattle her and at the same time he felt the need to redeem himself in her eyes. “Earning the gratitude and forgiveness of our soon to be King Aegon the Sixth of his name is all I could ever ask for. Just remember when he sends you news of his success, that I had some small part in making it happen. And now I need to find something to drink. Excuse me.” When he passed Loras Tyrell, he unobtrusively slipped a scroll in the man’s pocket.

“I’ll join you.” Tormund clapped Jaime Lannister’s shoulder and both men left a bemused looking group behind.

“Tormund and the Kingslayer drinking and toasting together, this is a strange world indeed.” Loras looked at Gendry when he said that. His right hand slowly moved to his pocket and touched the bump. His heart thumped in his chest. Jaime Lannister had come all the way from Castle Black and had slipped him a message in secret. He kept his face blank and did his best to follow the rest of the conversation.

“The Free Folk admire strength.” Gendry remarked. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what he did. Thousands of us tried to get to Jon and didn’t succeed, but Lannister, he found a way. And when he did, the man didn’t hesitate to jump right in the middle of hundreds of wights to reach Jon who was desperately trying to make a last stand. I never saw anything like it. The two of them protecting each other’s back, standing their ground for what felt like ages. They must have killed at least a hundred wights before the tide turned when they slew two White Walkers.”

“Hundreds of wights and two White Walkers? I didn’t know.” Lady Brienne stammered.

“Well Lannister’s appearance just now certainly distracted us from our moment of self-pity.” Gendry remarked. “What do we do now?”

“Exactly what our Prince ordered.” Loras answered, his hand still resting on his pocket so he could feel the contours of the thick message that was hopefully written by his lover. “We head for Eastwatch, brief the Commander there and commandeer a ship. Lady Brienne and I will sail to White Harbour soon and from there to King’s Landing or Dragonstone. You on the other hand will do some sightseeing in the North before joining all of us in King’s Landing. I know the Prince asked you to take the men from Winterfell home and Ghost will probably prefer to travel with you to avoid having to board a ship.”

Gendry looked around. “Anybody seen Ghost?”

“Aye,” Sandor who had been quietly talking to Ygritte had apparently picked up this last question. “The white direwolf raced after the dragons. I reckon he must be halfway to the Wall by now.”

“Dammit,” Gendry exclaimed. “I will miss his company.”

“Nobody else to keep your bed warm?” Sandor teased the younger man, his arm encircling Ygritte possessively. 

“Not all of us are used to the cold here. Besides he is a loyal companion and I felt safe having him near me.” Gendry clarified. He had a slight blush on his cheek and attempted to ignore the couple’s affectionate attitude they were flaunting in front of him.

“Come on. Let us help the others break up camp. I am eager to head home.” Sandor released Ygritte’s shoulder and took her hand instead. Together, the two of them walked back to the encampment.

“Home,” Lady Brienne sighed watching the couple walk away. “I don’t know where that is any more.”

“I do.” Loras tried to comfort her. “Lady Brienne of Tarth is needed in the capital where she will be offered a home in the White Tower and become Ser Brienne, going down in the history books as the first lady knight and wear a white cloak. Songs will be sung about you, Milady.” Loras bowed.

When she didn’t reply he tried to get her moving. “Come on, we are both impatient to get to King’s Landing. You are not the only one eagerly anticipating a knighthood.” Not daring to mimic Sandor’s gesture, he gave her a compelling look and set off toward the encampment knowing she had no other choice than to follow since Gendry and Edd were already well ahead of them.

Gendry had indeed walked away no longer willing to hear the others banter. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of abandonment yet and had followed at a safe distance behind Sandor and Ygritte. He was about to embark on a long trek with men he barely knew. Even though Robb would be glad to see him and probably Arya as well, he had practically invited himself for a stay at the home of the Warden of the North. What had he been thinking, he, a mere bastard of the Crownlands, imposing himself on the esteemed Lady Catelyn of House Stark? 

He remembered Jon’s parting advice. After conferring with his dragons, his friend had opted to delay his trip with half a day. A good meal and some extra rest was what Rhaegal had needed before attempting to fly across half of Westeros. His dragons had been given several horses to eat. They had been able to take their pick from the poor animals that had to be put down since they were too severely wounded to make the trip home. 

Jon had used some of that extra time to advise Gendry on how to behave. “Find some decent clothes in the first town you encounter. Dress the part. By the time you arrive, chances are that your legitimization has already been made known throughout the realm. Do not cower before Lady Catelyn. You will be her equal if not her superior because you are a male. Be respectful but do not demean yourself. You are a close friend to the new King and distant cousin to boot. And don’t linger too long in the North. I am eager to start the testing of the recipe for Valyrian Steel.”

Gendry doubting Jon’s statements had asked him how he could be so sure that everything would change that quickly. Jon had merely smiled and answered. “Don’t bet against me this time, my dear cousin. Just give me a few days, a sennight at most and I will be King Aegon the Sixth of my Name.”

 

***

 

Against all expectations, Gendry had enjoyed travelling at a leisurely pace along the Kingsroad towards Winterfell. At first he had kept mostly to himself and had savoured the relative anonymity to be had in the company of almost two hundred men. He had used it to slowly adapt and learn the best way to communicate with these men of the North. 

First they had lost the Umbers but not before Gendry had been able to acquire a brand new outfit and a fur coat in a small settlement near the stronghold. Lord Umber himself had helped Gendry with the negotiations. Gendry would make a customised sword for House Umber and they in turn would see that the tailor received his due. Soon after they had left the Last Hearth behind, a group of the mountain clans had left them and so it had continued until only the small contingent of men from Winterfell were all that remained of his companions during the last days of their journey.

He had gotten to know these men fairly well and these last few days Gendry had felt happy and free. After exchanging life stories around the bonfires at night, all the men knew of Gendry’s origins. The easy-going manners of the young man and his close friendship with the Targaryen-Stark Prince had gone a long way to ensure the men’s goodwill. It also helped that there were two soldiers called Snow in their little caravan who were well-liked. Nobody seemed bothered by him being a bastard.

When they had heard of his wardrobe predicament, one of the men had given him directions to a well-known tailor in winter town. Their last day of their travels they had insisted that Gendry put on his only decent outfit he had acquired with the help of the Umbers and had urged him to ride up front. Gendry had not needed further persuading. He had been studying the horizon ever since to catch his first glimpse of the uniquely shaped towers of Winterfell.

That is why it was no coincidence that Gendry spotted the outriders first. Three men on horseback were racing in their direction at great speed. Gendry’s heart hammered in his chest. Were these men coming here to bring him the news that his visit had been denied or did they carry better tidings? To avoid torturing himself with such thoughts, he admired the way these men rode their horses. He would never be as good an equestrian as any of these men. 

“I bet it is young Hullen and young Cassel. I don’t recognise the third one.” Poole, a nephew of the steward of Winterfell spoke up.

“How can you tell from such a distance?” Gendry asked the young man.

“Because I recognise their style of riding, the way they sit their horse and the kind of mounts they ride. I don’t need to look at their faces.” His eyes kept watching the three horsemen while he spoke.

“Except for the third one.” Gendry remarked drily.

“Except for the third one. Give me some time. Let them come a bit closer.” Poole squinted his eyes. “He looks small, perhaps it is one of the younger stable boys.”

“Could it be …” Gendry stammered then stopped.

“I thought you had never been to Winterfell?” The man remarked.

“He hasn’t.” One of his fellow travellers joined the conversation. “I would know. I know everyone who has entered through our gates. I have been a guard at the gates for several years now. Besides, we are always briefed well in advance which visitors to expect.”

Gendry gave him a challenging look. “I have met Lord Robb and his little sister before. Only not at Winterfell. Can it be Arya Stark, the third rider I mean?”

“The Gods be with us. You might be right. She rides as if she was born on a horse. It could be her. Even though it is strange to see the Wild Wolf without Nymeria, her direwolf.” Poole’s excited look turned sceptical when he uttered this last sentence.

Gendry smiled. “If it is her, then she will have received the message heralding my visit.”

“More like Lady Arya saw the opportunity to sneak through the gates. She often tries to pull such a stunt, no matter the destination of the party that leaves the keep.” Poole remarked. “More than once we were punished by Lady Stark because we let her precious daughter escape.

“Wanna bet she came out to welcome me?” Gendry spurred his horse. ‘Come on, let us meet them halfway.”

Soon the two groups met. Arya sat atop her horse, her hair in disarray, her braids having long escaped the confines of the knot they had been arranged in so carefully that morning. Big excited eyes immediately fixed on Gendry. Her small mouth couldn’t host a larger smile. 

“Gendry, Jon is King! Jon is King! He left an important message for you. Robb said you needed to get it before you saw mother.” She yelled the words the moment they had halted their horses.

“Jon is King?” Gendry’s face broke into a wide smile as well and Arya nodded enthusiastically.

“King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, The Prince of Dragonstone, Rider of Dragons and Friend of the Free Folk. I learned all of his titles by heart already!”

“Praise the Old Gods.” Poole said and the other men agreed with a resounding ‘aye’.

“Hail King Aegon, long may he reign!” One of the men shouted.

“Long may he reign!” It seemed everyone seemed to welcome the news.

Gendry meanwhile had gotten of his horse and helped Arya dismount. “Nice to see you again, Lady Arya.”

Arya made a move to embrace him and Gendry impulsively lifted her up with his strong arms. 

“I am no lady, I am a Princess now. But don’t call me that, only in front of mother. She smiles each time she hears someone say the word Princess.” She told him this quietly close to his ear.

“And will a Princess still be allowed to speak to a blacksmith?” He teased her.

Arya smiled and wiggled her legs. “Put me down so I can perform a very important task. Normally Hullen was supposed to do it but I persuaded him to let me handle it.”

“Used your authority as a royal Princess, did you now?” Gendry chuckled.

“Mmph,” Arya was trying to reach the buckle of her saddlebag. Since her mount was a very large one, she didn’t succeed right away.

“Allow me.” Gendry opened the clasp and lifted her up so she could reach inside the bag and take out a thick scroll with a heavy seal.

As soon as her two feet were back on the ground she held the scroll out to Gendry. “See? Jon even has his own seal. He put a direwolf on his sigil! A large eagle flew it to Winterfell.”

Arya’s spoke loud enough for the entire party to overhear. She thrust the scroll into Gendry’s hands who eagerly examined the large wax seal. When the men pleaded Gendry to show it to them, he held out the scroll in front of him but didn’t release his hold on it.

“The new King honours the North.” Poole who stood closest to Gendry remarked as soon as he spotted the small direwolf head below the three headed dragon imprinted in the wax.

“The blood of the Kings of Winter flows through him and he displays it proudly.” Another chimed in.

“To King Aegon, long may he reign!” They picked up the chant again.

“Open already.” Arya tugged on Gendry’s sleeve.

“Hey take care. I am wearing these clothes for the very first time.” Gendry said it teasingly but was glad that she released him instantly and that his sleeve was no worse for the wear.

“Sorry.” She kept her voice down so he alone could hear her. “I guess you want to impress my mother. She likes it that people dress up to meet her.”

Gendry bowed towards her and whispered confidentially in her ear. “I know. Jon told me.” He broke the seal and started to read. His eyes widened. Not only was he legitimized, he travelled to Winterfell as a royal ambassador and his first duty was to deliver an official invitation from the King to Lady Stark. He was to hand her a personal letter from King Aegon.

“What does it say?” Arya made a move to grab his sleeve again but refrained from it at the very last moment.

Gendry bowed. “Princess Arya, Lord Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End and next in line to become Lord Paramount of the Stormlands is pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You’re a very important Lord now?” She made a face.

“Jon just made me one. But I promise I am not going to be a stuck up one. Just as you are not a stuck up Princess.” He smiled remembering one of her rants when they were at the Stony Shore.

“Good, keep it that way.” She replied brusquely. “Come on. Act like a High Lord and help a Princess on her tall horse. What are you standing around for? Let us hurry back to Winterfell.”

Gendry smiled and lifter her up so she could slip her right foot into the stirrup and lift her other leg over the back of the horse. “There you go, Princess.”

“I am no,” she stopped. She looked at him with her big grey eyes and continued quietly. “You can call me Princess. It sounds nice when you say it.” She blushed but did not avert her eyes. “Perhaps that is because you are my second best friend.”

“Thank you, Princess.” He smiled and quickly mounted his own horse. She was a delight to be around. He looked forward to his stay at Winterfell even more now.

The men all congratulated him but acted more reserved. Gendry sighed and remembered his promise to Jon. He was to treat everybody as friendly as ever but should respect the fact that they had to adhere to the rules of protocol. He should allow them to address him by his new title when the occasion called for it. It was more for the benefit of the people he would interact with than for himself. Jon had given Gendry several examples of how he himself had struggled with the same situation for as long as he could remember. _‘Act kind and just, Gendry. Remember that in private you are still free to behave as before. Just make sure that you spend enough private time with your friends and loved ones. That way you might survive this terrible fate of being a close friend and cousin to a soon to be King.’_

When he got tired of the stilted conversation with his fellow travellers, he spurred his horse onward until he rode at the front of their caravan next to Arya Stark.

She smiled when she noticed him. “Are you really a Baratheon?” She asked innocently.

“Robert Baratheon was my father. I never met him though and I doubt he knows that I exist.” He shook his head to chase away the bitter mood that always came upon him when he spoke about his birth father. When he saw her biting her lip, he regretted his outburst. He took a breath and leaned closer to her. “Did you know that Jon calls me cousin?”

“You are also his cousin? Does that make us family?” She was animated once again.

Glad that his distraction had worked he replied. “A distant cousin to Jon. We share a Targaryen ancestor. No relation by blood to you, I am sorry. We just kind of have a connection through Jon. But as far as I am concerned we can be very good friends and claim we are both a part of Jon’s family.”

“Jon is my very best friend and I am his first cousin. I am to visit him soon. I am going to King’s Landing and will be able to see him sit on the famous Iron Throne with my own eyes. Mother says he will be wearing a large crown.”

“I am glad to hear that you are allowed to accompany your mother to King’s Landing. In the message you brought me, Jon orders me to accompany Lady Catelyn to the capital.” He smiled to himself recalling the last paragraph of Jon’s letter in which Jon asked him for _‘the favour’_ of escorting his female kin safely to King’s Landing.

 

***

 

The large gates of Winterfell opened and Gendry looked around with big eyes. From a distance Winterfell had seemed impressive but so had the Red Keep. He had never set foot inside the walls of a large castle though. The most luxurious place he had visited was the villa where Princess Daenerys had lived in Pentos but that had not prepared him for the sheer size of Winterfell.

Stable boys appeared out of nowhere and took the reins of their horses. Gendry dismounted quickly but was too late to assist Arya. She already stood beside him. Servants helped him untie his small bag with personal belongings. The scroll from Jon was safely tucked beneath his belt.

An older man that Gendry surmised to be the steward due to his resemblance to young Poole bowed to Gendry. “Lord Baratheon, welcome to Winterfell. Lord Stark and his mother, Lady Catelyn Stark are ready to receive you in the Great Hall. Allow me to show you the way.”

“I can do that, Poole.” Arya intervened.

“You are of course welcome to join us, Princess Arya. However, I would advise you to change first.” Poole said in a warm fatherly tone.

Arya made a face. “Dratt. I so wanted to see mother’s face. Will you wait for me?” Her eyes looked pleadingly at Gendry. “I can be real quick.”

Gendry turned to Poole to surmise what protocol dictated in such cases.

“Lord Baratheon can fill you in later, Princess. He better not make your brother wait. And might I suggest you do something about your hair as well?”

Arya touched her braids and found they were mostly undone. She turned to Gendry and all but ordered him. “Go on in then. I’ll be there soon.” She turned around and sprinted away entering the main building by a side door.

Poole looked a bit worried. “I apologize if the behaviour of the young Princess caused you some discomfort, my Lord. Please don’t take offense.”

“She was no nuisance. To the contrary, she was charming company and made a boring trip a bit livelier. Don’t worry about it and don’t tell on her. I sure won’t.” Gendry reassured the loyal man.

“Of course, my Lord. Thank you.” The steward studied the young Lord with a bit more interest. “You were already acquainted with Princess Arya?”

“I had the pleasure of meeting her and Lord, I am sorry, Prince Robb Stark at the Stony Shore a couple of moons ago.” Gendry had been so proud he had used the correct formal phrasing only to spoil it by forgetting that Robb was a Prince now.”

“Don’t worry about it, my Lord. Many of us are not entirely used to the new titles either. You might hear others make the same mistake. It is quite a change, isn’t it?” 

“It is indeed. When I met Jon, I mean King Aegon of course, he was posing as an small Lord from the Driftmark. We became close and now I find myself to be an intimate friend to the King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I know what you mean. He was introduced to us as Lord Celtigar as well. We should have known though. He is the spitting image of his mother. You on the other hand have the true look of a Baratheon, if you don’t mind my saying.” 

“The former King was my father.” Gendry looked around and saw several servants were gawking at him. “Shall we go in though? I do not want to make a bad first impression by making them wait.”

“Don’t worry, my Lord. The King himself announced your visit. You will be treated with all the respect due to your new station.” Poole appreciated the fact that the young man stayed humble and friendly instead of acting all haughty and arrogant. 

They had crossed the courtyard by now and Gendry looked around once more. Suddenly he realised what he had subconsciously been searching for. “Aren’t there supposed to be direwolves running around?”

“Princess Catelyn ordered them to be locked up in the pens so as not to scare you away before you had reached the main building.” Poole explained. “She is not very keen on them and uses every opportunity to keep them out of her sight much to the chagrin of her children. Luckily Prince Robb can get her to see reason most of the time.”

Gendry looked at him thinking of what Jon had told him about Robb’s mother. Apparently Poole misinterpreted his silence when he added nervously. “Better forget what I told you just now. I overstepped.”

“I didn’t mind.” Gendry reassured him. “I am just nervous about meeting Prince Stark’s mother.”

Poole nodded and they entered the building. They stopped before a large door. “Here we are, my Lord.”

Gendry looked at the man and nodded. “In case I do not get the opportunity in there, thank you, Poole. It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise, my Lord.” Poole made a bow visibly relieved the new high Lord had been so accommodating and signalled the guards to open the heavy doors. “Lord Gendry of House Baratheon!” Poole announced their visitor at the top of his voice.

“Gendry! Nice to see you again.” Robb immediately rose from his chair and met Gendry halfway. He embraced his friend. “I’m glad you decided to come visit.” Then he whispered in his ear. “I know it was not on Jon’s orders as mother thinks.”

“Glad to see you too, Robb.” Gendry released his friend and looked nervously at Princess Catelyn of House Stark who had risen and strode towards them in a dignified manner.

He bowed. “Princess Stark, I am honoured to make your acquaintance. You have a lovely home here.”

Gendry tried to stay calm under Catelyn Stark’s formal look. Jon had predicted this reaction. He had told her that Robb’s mother considered herself a lady of superior birth and education and that she would not allow herself to let any resentment she might harbour to shine through. She would probably not be friendly and might act rather cool and haughty. However he was sure that she would not dare to let anyone notice that she looked down on Gendry for being a former bastard from a dethroned King. She would make sure that the only reports that would reach King’s Landing would mention that Princes Catelyn of House Stark had offered the royal ambassador sent by her dear nephew, King Aegon, all the courtesies due to his newly bestowed station.

“Lord Baratheon, we are honoured to receive a representative of King Aegon in our home. You are welcome to enjoy everything Winterfell has to offer. You may address me as Princess Catelyn.” She held out her hand for the bastard to kiss.

Gendry nervously put his dry lips shortly on the offered palm. “I thank you, Princess Catelyn.”

She nodded coldly and gestured the servants who brought salt and bread.

Gendry almost refused the food by stating that he was not hungry when he remembered in the nick of time that this was the customary offering to make clear that a visitor was under the protection of guest rights. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He hoped there were no other things he had overlooked. He really didn’t want to offend his hosts. He accepted a small piece of bread. 

However, the exact moment that he was about to dip it into the salt, the doors swept open and Arya burst in. Still half in a panic due to his near mistake, the commotion she made startled him and he dropped the piece of bread in the bowl with salt most certainly making the cursed thing inedible. He swallowed thickly but was saved by the fact that Princess Catelyn shifted her attention away from him to scold her daughter for her impudent manners.

“Just select another piece, Gendry.” Robb tapped his shoulder reassuringly while he whispered these words in his friend’s ear. “And relax. A few more moments with my mother and we can escape to my solar where we can talk in private.”

Gendry nodded gratefully and plucked the small lump of bread that had salt sticking to it on all sides out of the bowl and put it to the side. He was still chewing on another piece when Princess Catelyn approached again. 

“I believe you are already acquainted with my youngest daughter, Princess Arya.”

Gendry put on a formal face but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile in his eyes when he looked at Arya. Her eyes danced with barely contained mirth when her mother uttered the word ‘Princess’. He clenched his jaw to stave off the burst of laughter that bubbled up when they exchanged glances. She had not exaggerated. Her mother had a very special intonation when she pronounced the new title of House Stark. He breathed through his nose and attempted to stay serious when he replied rather stately making sure to use the new title of House Stark several times in his reply.

“I already had the pleasure, Princess Catelyn. However I look forward to meeting the two younger Princes and Princess Sansa. King Aegon was so kind as to tell me about them and so was Prince Robb when I was introduced to him at the Stony Shore.” He felt the sweat trickle on his forehead and prayed that Robb would tell them to adjourn to his quarters soon enough. He noticed Princess Catelyn purse her lips.

“The Princess Sansa and the Princes Bran and Rickon are with the Maester for the moment. You will be introduced to them before dinner.” Her tone was not very inviting and an uncomfortable silence ensued.

Gendry coughed. “Princess Catelyn?”

“Yes, my Lord.” 

Her cool formal tone made Gendry even more uncertain but an encouraging look from Robb helped him gather his courage. “I uh, I just wanted to reassure you that I am not intimidated by the direwolves. You do not have to keep them locked up on my account. At the Stony Shore I met with three of them already and since then I have grown quite fond of Ghost.”

“Ghost is the name of the King’s direwolf.” Robb quickly interrupted, noticing his mother quizzical expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this, Mother.”

Robb nodded in the direction of Poole who stood discreetly near the door at the other end of the room. The man smiled and left quickly.

“Mother, Lord Baratheon has a message from the King for me. We will retreat to my solar. I’ll make sure we return well in time for dinner so you will have ample opportunity to introduce him to my other siblings.”

“Robb?” Arya touched his arm, her eyes pleading with her brother.

Robb glanced toward the door to make sure that his mother was already far enough so she could not overhear them. She was indeed walking away rather swiftly. Princess Catelyn was probably glad that she no longer needed to remain in the presence of a former bastard. She had warned Robb not to be too familiar with the upstart new heir to the Stormlands. Robb however had cautioned her not to offend the legitimised Lord. In doing so they would go against the instructions of the new King. Lord Gendry of House Baratheon was a very close friend and distant cousin of King Aegon. He also was the future Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. They better pay him the respect he was due. Father would not be best pleased if his wife soured the relationship between the Stormlands and the North.

Robb leaned a bit lower and whispered to his little sister. “Give me some time with Gendry first. I’ll have a servant fetch you later with some pretext.”

Gendry intervened. “We don’t need a pretext. I happen to have a very good reason to require her presence later. I might have brought a letter and a gift from the King for her.” He thumped his head and frowned suddenly. “I’d have to check though. I remember when I bought those new clothes that I had trouble fitting everything in my saddle bag. I might have left her gift at the Last Hearth.” The mirth in his eyes and his broad grin betrayed him though. 

Arya was about to burst out or squeal in delight but Robb put his fingers to his lips to signal that she should keep silent. “Don’t alert your mother.” He whispered. 

Arya nodded, stood on her toes and kissed her brother’s cheek. “You two are the best. After Jon of course,” she added hastily and let her brother leave with Gendry without further protest.

“I am sorry if my sister bothered you. I heard she sneaked out again.” Robb looked at his friend while they walked towards the solar.

Gendry smiled. “Why do people keep saying that? I enjoy her liveliness. She makes things interesting, I mean not boring, I mean uh.”

“Stop being nervous, Gendry. I know what you mean.” He opened the door to the solar and let his guest enter first. “Look carefully, Gendry.” Robb closed the door with an exaggerated gesture. “See that. It is just the two of us now.” 

Robb gave the example by relaxing his stance. “Gods I am ever so glad to see you. It has been rather boring here lately. At least the times I was not in the company of my younger sister.” He smiled teasingly at Gendry when he added that last bit.

Gendry’s eyes took in every detail of the stately room. His eyes lingered on the cosy chairs near the fire.

“Go on, take a seat.” Robb offered. “I am just fetching a pitcher of ale. Or do you prefer wine?”

“Ale, please.” Gendry folded his hands in his lap and continued to study his environment. “You have a lovely home, Robb.”

“Thank you. I know I am blessed. Now tell me how are you doing?” He offered Gendry a pint of ale.

Gendry took it and immediately drank half of it. “Better now,” Gendry smiled. “Gods this is fine ale.”

“Home made.” Robb answered proudly. “You did well back there, Gendry. You look the part too.”

“I had help and got lots of advice. The formal words sound weird coming out of my mouth though.” He admitted. “It all feels rather strange actually. For all I am some important Lord now, I still feel like a blacksmith. Luckily Jon told me he will still have need of my skills in the forge. I wouldn’t want to give it up.”

“And of course, you will obey your King.” Robb’s seemed tense all of a sudden.

Gendry looked at him strangely. “Of course I will help my _‘friend’_. And I am glad I can make myself useful that way at least. I am a rather skilled blacksmith and I enjoy creating things.”

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” Now it was Robb that looked a little uneasy.

Gendry leaned a bit closer to Robb. “Nothing to be sorry about. How are you doing, Robb? Except for being a bit lonely the times that Arya is not shaking thing up. Are you coping with all your duties?”

“I am getting the hang of it. It was difficult at first though. I freely admit that to you but don’t go repeating that to anyone. Certainly not to Jon.” Robb stressed that last part.

“I won’t if you ask me not to.” Gendry answer was a simple and forthright. “I am aware that I will need to learn a lot from Lord Renly Baratheon if I am ever to rule the Stormlands.”

“I can teach you a few things if you want.” Robb offered. “How long are you staying?”

“A sennight at the most. I am here to issue the formal written invitation from King Aegon to your mother and siblings. Jon also wants me to escort them on their journey. A royal letter to confirm all this was included in the scroll the outriders handed to me.” 

“I don’t know if that is a good idea.” Robb remarked a big frown had appeared on his forehead.

Gendry’s face fell. “Because I will not always know how to act as a real Lord and your mother will feel insulted?”

“Gendry, you are a real Lord now and you act just fine. It is just, no matter how hard you try, my mother will never treat you as an equal because of your origins. She was raised by Septas you see. The Faith of the Seven looks down on bastards.” Robb explained patiently.

“But almost everyone in the South worships the Seven.” Gendry looked panicked now.

“Southern Lords also are very protective of their status. You only need to mention you are a cousin and intimate friend of the King. Emphasize that you have been a part of his inner circle long before he became King and they will all want to befriend you.” 

“But these same arguments will not sway your Lady Mother?”

Robb looked thoughtful. “Actually they might if we go about it the right way. We’ll combine forces and make mention of King Aegon every time you feel she wants to snub you. Stress what intimate friends you and Jon are. Drop a few times that you have his ear. Mention that he addresses you as cousin and considers you a part of his small Targaryen family. I will do the same at every opportunity.”

Gendry looked uncertain. 

“These are not a lies, Gendry. Use the truth to your advantage. You said yourself that Jon has need of your skills. But do not mention you are a blacksmith to mother.” He raised his tanker, drank deeply and placed it on the table with an exaggerated gesture to make it obvious that it was empty. He encouraged Gendry to do the same. Then he proceeded to fill both tankers again. “Now let’s see, a sennight for me to enjoy your company. We must organise a hunt. You will of course join me in the training yard. What else can we do?”

“Tour the castle, visit the Godswood and allow me some time in the forge when your mother is least likely to notice?” Gendry offered shyly.

“Of course. We can explore the environment as well and visit Winter Town.”

“Yes, I will need to visit Winter Town at the first opportunity. I plan to buy some new clothes. I only have this one outfit that is decent enough for a Lord.”

“Well then Winter Town tomorrow and a hunt in three days’ time. I will need to organize a larger escort for that.”

Gendry studied Robb closely now. Except for the tiny part of his finger that was missing he saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were no dark circles under his eyes, no visible bandages although he could not be sure about that because the cold weather called for long sleeves. Robb looked lively enough. “How is your arm, Robb?”

“The Maester has allowed me to resume training. It is frustrating though. The long period of inactivity has apparently made the muscles in my arms non-existent. And it takes time to remedy that. The scars are ugly but they are proof that I survived and am the stronger for it.”

Gendry saw the determined look in Robb’s eyes. “You look strong, Robb. I am glad.” He hesitated not knowing if it was polite to enquire after the scars.

“What is it Gendry?” Robb was grateful for the young man’s company. In Gendry’s presence he felt like a protective older brother. Gendry needed his guidance. It felt good to have a purpose, to feel useful.

Gendry gathered his courage and spoke up. “Your scars, do they hurt? Can you describe them to me?” 

“You want to see them?” Robb asked softly. Curiosity was better than pity.

“Only if you are willing. I apologise but you see I never, I have never...” Gendry stammered.

“It’s okay, Gendry. I’ll reveal just a small part. You are not the first to ask and you will not be the last either. Somehow I am glad you asked. I can’t explain exactly why your interest touches me. When others ask, I find myself getting irritated.” 

He carefully rolled up his sleeve a few inches and then lifted the thin bandages. Angry red lines formed an orderly pattern of rectangles. Not a single patch of rosy skin remained though. Thick crusts and strange looking raw red flesh made up the rest of the area Robb had revealed.

“I am sorry Robb. Not for how it looks, but for the pain you must have endured when he, when he…” Gendry looked away. His eyes turned back to Robb’s face when his friend spoke the f-word.

“Flayed me? It is okay. It took me a while to be able to say it out loud as well. Maester Luwin has been instrumental in helping me talk about it.” Robb had no trouble looking Gendry in the eye.

“I am glad for that, Robb. And if there is any way I can help while I am here, just say the word. I am at your disposal.”

“Just keep me company as much as you can. Soon everyone is going south and I will be stuck in the North being the Stark that has to remain in Winterfell.” Robb’s expression darkened a bit.

“Your turn will come I am sure. Your father will return to Winterfell and then it will be your turn to travel to King’s Landing. And when you do, we will all be there and can sneak into a room, the five of us and have lots of fun.”

“You forget that Jon will be married by then.” Again Robb’s tone changed when he mentioned Jon.

“Jon told me that when we meet in private everything will still be the same and that he looks forward to our reunion, of all five of us. I am sure that Princess Daenerys will spare him for an evening. He can always return to her side afterwards.”

“I guess.” Rob sighed. “You have met her in Pentos. What is she like?”

“Young, beautiful and kind, I guess. I didn’t see much of her but she didn’t strike me as a stuck up royal. She was nice to me and you must keep in mind that when I met her, I was just an insignificant bastard who happened to travel with a few Lords.”

“Do you think I will like her?” Robb looked doubtful which Gendry really didn’t understand.

“You should ask Jon that but as far as I understand, she was nice to me because Jon introduced me as a good friend. She will certainly try to befriend you. You are not merely his friend. Jon considers you the brother he never had. Don’t worry, Robb.”

Robb kept his doubts for himself for now and walked to the door. “The sun will be setting soon. I will let the servant fetch Arya. When he returned from a quick talk with a servant in the hallway he asked, ‘Do you really have another present for her?”

“I do. Dragonglass daggers for all of you, customized with the Stark sigil.”

“Don’t show mother yet. Let me prepare her first. She wasn’t happy when Arya came home with her sword.”

“Well these daggers are a present from his royal Highness, the esteemed King Aegon, the Sixth of his name. You can’t refuse such a thoughtful royal gift.” Gendry said in an imperious manner. Both young men laughed out loud at the exaggerate speech.

Arya stood still in the doorway with Greywind and Nymeria by her side. The three of them watched both men with big eyes. Her brother was laughing freely with Gendry. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother this carefree and heard him laugh out loud. Gendry rose even higher in her esteem. After supper, she would write a short message to Jon. He would be very relieved to learn that Robb was doing so much better.

 

***

 

Gendry had a really nice time in Winterfell. He got more confident as the days wore on. Robb gave him small pieces of advice and praised him often when they could exchange some words in private after another tedious introduction. He blessed his decision to come to Winterfell before going south and joining the royal court. This was kind of a training period for him. Growing comfortable with his new status was easier with a kind, attentive teacher by his side. 

Princess Catelyn had mellowed substantially and not only because it was made clear to her several times - often subtly by her eldest son - what a close relationship the young Lord had with the Targaryen King. Unbeknownst to both young men, Gendry had succeeded because of his beneficial influence on Robb. 

Not only Princess Catelyn but the entire household rejoiced in the excellent mood their Prince was in these days. Robb walked around with a happy expression and had not had a single tantrum since the young Lord of House Baratheon had arrived. As a consequence the servants did everything they could to make Gendry’s stay as agreeable as possible. The young Baratheon hardly ever had to ask for anything. All his needs were met before he even realised he had them.

The only thing neither the servants nor Princess Catelyn understood was the young Lord’s behaviour towards both Princesses. At his first supper at Winterfell, Gendry had been officially introduced to Princess Sansa and the younger Princes, Bran and Rickon. He had acted as a perfect but distant Lord and had said and done all the right things, nothing more, nothing less. And his behaviour towards the beautiful Princess Sansa had remained that way. 

On the other hand, Lord Baratheon was often spotted in the company of Prince Robb and Princess Arya. During these times the young Lord was animated and kind. He also spent time with Bran and Rickon. This occurred mostly in the training yard when Princess Arya and Prince Rob were also present. There he sparred with all of them, even little Rickon. Laughter could be heard when Arya bested the Lord once. She had slipped under his arm and had touched his back with her wooden sword. Gendry not in the least put out had joked he should have brought his mighty warhammer since he was invincible when wielding it. 

When Princess Catelyn and her eldest daughter had appeared on the ramparts overlooking the training yard however, the young Lord had once more donned a serious mien and had made a formal bow. The entire time Princess Sansa had stayed out there, Gendry Baratheon had checked his behaviour and had remained a mere spectator for the remainder of the training session.

Some of the servants whispered it was because he was too shy and was spellbound by Princess Sansa’s beauty. Others claimed that it was exactly the opposite and that the young Lord hardly noticed that Princess Sansa existed. The servants who preferred Arya over Sansa kept their mouths shut. In private they prayed to the Old Gods that Princess Arya might one day become Lady Baratheon. They loved the girl with the wolf’s blood dearly but just as her mother they feared that she would never find a husband who would tolerate her wild spirit. They were certain however that the young Lord had taken a shining to Princess Arya and preferred her over Princess Sansa. Perhaps in a few years all would be well.

 

***

Meanwhile Sansa was working up her courage to ask Gendry about Lord Edric Dayne. She presumed that the young men had seen each other beyond the Wall and if not, surely they were staying in touch through letters since they were friends? She hadn’t heard any news from Edric since he had left Winterfell. Her mother and father didn’t talk to her about potential betrothals any longer. In his last letter, her father had scolded her and claimed that she had proved herself too immature to marry anytime soon. He had given instructions to increase her lesson plan and restrict her free time. If she acted like a child, he would treat her like one, flowered or not. She had cried herself to sleep frequently since then. 

When Gendry had arrived she had done her utmost to behave as guarded as possible so nobody could accuse her of flirting with the young Lord. A few days later, she overheard some servants whispering and feared that she had overdone it. Perhaps Lord Baratheon also believed just as some of the servants did that the Princess of the North felt herself far above a legitimized bastard. 

The fifth day of Gendry’s stay at Winterfell, she had gone to Robb to ask for his advice. Robb had reassured her and told her that Gendry was a really nice young man and a close friend of him. He encouraged her to seek his company and just ask what she wanted to know. Lord Baratheon would certainly be willing to tell her all that he knew about Lord Dayne wellbeing. When Sansa confessed that she lacked the courage to approach him on her own, Robb had arranged the encounter.

And so Princess Sansa of Winterfell met the heir to Storm’s End later that day in the Godswood. Robb had escorted her to the place where he had left Gendry earlier. The young man was bathing his feet in the warm water near the heart tree. Gendry, clearly surprised, sprang to his feet and bowed formally. “Princess.”

“Please call me Sansa in this sacred place, Lord Baratheon. Here only the Gods are our witnesses and more importantly my mother is not around to berate us.” She smiled encouragingly at the nervous young man.

“Thank you, Sansa. Then in this magical place, I am Gendry.” Gendry was relieved to notice that Robb nodded approvingly at the both of them.

“My sister wanted to ask you something, Gendry. I’ll be over there if you need me.” 

Sansa however held him back. “Stay Robb, I am sure you are allowed to hear what Gendry has to say.” Her eyes pleaded with her brother to lend her his support.

Gendry frowned not sure what was going on.

“Don’t worry,” Robb reassured Gendry. “She only wants to ask you if you know how Edric is doing. Just tell us what you can reveal without betraying our friend’s confidence.”

Gendry’s expression softened. He scolded himself for not saying something earlier. He could be such a thickhead sometimes. “Edric is doing fine, Sansa. He was not allowed to take part in the major battle at Hardhome since he was ordered to safeguard the women and children. Together with Lady Brienne and Loras Tyrell, he oversaw their evacuation and stayed with them on the ships. This very moment, he is sailing towards White Harbour and from there he will travel directly to King’s Landing.”

He took her hand when he saw her eyes grow moist. “He spoke of you often. He wanted me to bring you a letter but Jon advised against it. Your cousin said it was not worth the risk. Your father only esteems honourable men. A young suitor contacting his maiden daughter behind his back would have to face dire consequences if ever the letter were discovered. Edric and Jon however will keep up their efforts to try and sway your Lord Father, I mean Prince Eddard Stark.”

“Thank you, Gendry.” Sansa squeezed his hand only to release it immediately after and hurry out of the Godswood.

Gendry looked at Robb whose expression had darkened the moment Gendry had mentioned that Jon had forbidden Edric to write Sansa. He was quick to defend Jon. “He was right you know. Edric could not write her.”

“I know.” Robb admitted finally looking troubled. “I have not been a good cousin to him lately.”

Gendry eyed Robb with a puzzled expression on his face. “I have never seen two men closer than the two of you. We are all his friends and do not mistake me, Jon is a great friend to have. Whenever we spend time together I feel special and our connection grows deeper. But that is nothing compared to what the both of you share. You two are bound by blood. I have seen it with my own eyes. And when I asked him about it once, he explained that he thinks of you as the brother he never had. Did you know that he was sick when he flew across half of Westeros to rescue you? Sam wrote he was still so weak that he could barely stand on his feet when he left Dragonstone.”

Robb hung his head. “That makes my recent behaviour even worse. I sometimes hate myself, Gendry. I look in the mirror and I hate the person that looks back at me.”

Gendry gestured for Robb to sit down and took his original position re-emerging his feet in the lukewarm water. He waited for Robb to divest himself of his shoes and do the same. Then he turned his attention back on the topic at hand. “Why do you feel that?” 

That simple straightforward question struck a chord within Robb. And for the first time he was willing to admit to himself and to his friend that he had a problem. “Since I am jealous, ungrateful, resentful. I chased away my uncle because instead of patiently explaining why I didn’t need his advice, I accused him of preferring Jon’s company to mine. I find myself resenting the fact that Jon is a better person than I am.”

Gendry stared deep into the water and mulled over what he had heard. When he started to speak he voiced his thoughts slowly. “I think that every one of us, if we are totally honest, has felt jealous of Jon at one time or another.” He faced Robb again now that he had found the words he wanted to say. “Hells, I envy him each time I see him interact with Ghost. I love that wolf too but I know that I will never replace Jon in Ghost’s heart. I am sure that the feelings you harbour are not so different than ours have been at some point. And if you acted on them where we did not, then I am sure nobody will hold it against you, certainly not after what happened. We are all aware that you have been going through a difficult time lately and have been short tempered at times.”

“My uncle left, Gendry. I literally chased him away. How can he not hold it against me?”

“Let me see if I get this right. You still think you were mostly right about the things you argued about with your uncle but you concede that you could have handled your argument better and you wish that you had been more careful with how you phrased your refusal to heed his advice? Most of all you regret losing your temper?”

Robb had nodded his head several times while his friend spoke and looked relieved to have it out in the open. “Yes on all counts.” He expelled a deep breath.

“Well if anybody has a valid excuse to have less self-control for the moment it is you.” Gendry stated matter of fact.

Robb shook his head now. “I don’t want you all to pity me. I don’t need special treatment.”

“Not our pity. You have our compassion, our understanding. Write your uncle a letter, an honest one. He is your uncle, your blood. As far as I know him, he will understand and he will forgive you.”

Robb remained silent and seemed to be considering this option. “And Jon?” He asked after a while.

“Did you hurt Jon as well?” Gendry threw Robb a confounded look.

“Not directly but if uncle Benjen told him only half of what I said in my anger…” Robb’s voice faltered.

“Then write him an honest letter as well. Hells, I was going to write to Jon how well you were doing. He has been so worried about you. He asks after you at every opportunity. He told me he wished he could summon you to the Dragonstone although now that should be to King’s Landing, but he had to agree that you are needed in the North. He misses your company, Robb. I know he counts the days until your father returns here and you can travel south. Whatever doubts you might harbour, don’t doubt Jon’s feelings for you.”

“You are a Gods-send, Gendry. Maester Luwin might have helped me come to terms with what happened to me but your presence has made me feel like myself old self again. Did you know that our hunt was the first time I was able to enjoy such an activity fully since, you know, the Dreadfort?” He made a small hand gesture. “I had been unable to enjoy such simple pleasures. I got startled by the tiniest unexpected noise. Your presence has worked wonders for me, Gendry.”

Gendry put his hand on Robb’s thigh for a short moment. “What are friends for? We made a pact remember. I would have come for you at the Dreadfort as well if I had gotten the news in time, believe me.” 

“I know. I know. I am really lucky. From now on, I am going to be grateful for what I have instead of focusing on what I don’t have.” Robb gave Gendry a small smile.

The young man withdrew his hand and leaned back using his hands for support. “I am sure you can’t find a scroll large enough to write down all that you have going for yourself, Robb. Wait until you visit King’s Landing and I show you Flea Bottom where I spent the first part of my life.”

“I really have been a spoiled brat.” Robb shook his head in a self-deprecating manner.

Again Gendry shortly touched Robb’s thigh. “Maybe you did behave like one once in a while, however never in my presence. Don’t sell yourself short, Robb. How many heirs to a Kingdom would befriend a poor bastard from Flea Bottom?”

“I can’t claim credit for that. Jon introduced us.” Robb was quick to dismiss the praise.

“He did. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have ignored me most of the time or given me snide retorts. You didn’t though. You became a friend.”

“That’s because I trusted Jon and followed his lead.” Robb gave him a small smile.

“And you can still trust him. And be reassured that he still trusts you too.” Gendry did his best to persuade his friend that he hadn’t lost Jon’s good opinion. “Just make sure he knows that you still know that as well.”

Robb stared absently at the place where his feet were submerged. “Don’t you feel sometimes that Jon is so good, so perfect that we will never measure up and will always come up short?”

Gendry took his time to consider his answer. Finally he spoke up. “Not really. I am my own person and I know for a fact that Jon is not perfect either. And he certainly doesn’t think he is perfect. He struggles with the mistakes he makes the same as we do. Don’t forget, if he makes a mistake it can have far-reaching consequences. Haven’t you caught him brooding more than once? You tell me you are jealous of him sometimes? Well, at times, I have found myself rejoicing that my life is so much simpler than his.”

Robb looked into Gendry’s eyes attempting to determine if his friend really meant what he was saying. “Truly?”

“Except for the part about the dragons.” Gendry nudged Robb’s shoulder playfully. “I would love to fly around Westeros like Jon does. Did I tell you about the time that he tried to get me to ride with him on Rhaegal’s back?” Gendry was glad to see the interest flare up in Robb’s eyes.

“Rhaegal, that is the green dragon, right?”

Both young men relaxed their pose and Gendry described in detail every attempt they had made to prevent him from getting burned by the hot scales and for the dragons to accept his presence. 

 

***

**A day later**

“How did you find me this time?” Gendry asked Arya when she interrupted him while he was making the final adjustments to the sword Lord Umber had commissioned. Robb was in a meeting with some traders and Gendry had reassured him that he didn’t mind a bit of solitude and was planning to use this time to complete the greatsword for Lord Umber. Gendry put the sword down and wiped his hands clean on a piece of cloth, eying Arya curiously.

“I sent Nymeria to look for you.” She pointed at her direwolf. 

Gendry had seen the wolf enter a while earlier but ever since she had entered, Nymeria had been dozing near the door of the workshop. Gendry frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Arya’s face closed off. “Never mind. Now that I found you, wanna go out with me?”

Gendry looked at the sword that was as ready as it would ever be. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her. “What exactly are you proposing, Princess?”

“Only properly escorted am I allowed to go to Winter Town.” She looked at him with her big dark grey eyes. “Please? It’s been ages. And I kind of need to do something there.”

Gendry had already decided to go with her before she had finished her first sentence. He hadn’t even needed to hear the word please. He made a mental note to write to Jon that she still knew it existed though. “All right. I will have to change into something more decent first. Are you all packed then?” During breakfast in the Great Hall, he had overheard her mother ordering Arya to complete packing her trunk today.

“I don’t need to pack much myself. My personal items only. And some of those I can’t pack until the last minute.” She gestured at Needle that she wore at her waist. “The rest the servants will take care of.”

Gendry put the tools on the shelves where they belonged and followed Arya outside. He startled for a moment when Nymeria brushed him in an attempt to sneak past him so she could venture out first. He had grown accustomed to the presence of the direwolves. Arya almost never went anywhere without her loyal direwolf and somehow both Nymeria and Arya had ended up spending a lot of time in Gendry’s company. Mostly Arya and Nymeria arrived impromptu and joined the activity Robb and he were engaged in no matter what that was. It helped that she mostly wandered around in breeches and boiled leather. The only times he had seen her wear a dress was in the evenings when they all changed for supper. 

“Is Nymeria coming too?” He asked her when Arya looked back to check whether he was keeping up.

Arya face fell. “I’m going to miss her so much. Mother won’t let me bring her south. All our direwolves need to stay in Winterfell. So yes, she is coming with us today. I want to spend as much time with her as I still can.”

“I’m sorry that you need to leave Nymeria behind, Arya. But I am sure Robb and the kennel master will take good care of her.”

“And she can play with her siblings. I know.” Arya looked resigned but her lip still trembled. “Still I am going to miss her lots and lots.”

“Then I will do my utmost to keep you distracted, Princess. I for one am looking forward to your company during the long journey south.”

“Me too. At least you are not fawning over my elder sister like all the other Lords. I’m glad you were my friend long before you knew her and before you became a Lord.” She had latched onto his arm and together they crossed the courtyard.

“I am also grateful for our friendship, Arya.” She had to release his arm when the stood before the door of his guest quarters. “Just give me a moment. I’ll be out right away.”

A bit later they had exited the main gate and were walking the muddy streets of the settlement called Winter Town. Most of the houses were built of log and undressed stone. A few days ago, when Gendry had visited the settlement with Robb, he had been amazed at how neat and organised the little town looked compared to Flea Bottom. Arya was walking close to Nymeria and petted her every opportunity she got.

“I am sure you will like it in King’s Landing. Don’t forget that you have the new instructor to look forward too.” Gendry once more tried to distract her from the imminent separation of her direwolf.

“Yes! I am glad Prince Oberyn was able to intercept my new teacher in King’s Landing before he found a ship heading for White Harbour. I will be able to resume my training as soon as I arrive. At least my mornings won’t be boring.”

“If you have never been to King’s Landing before, I don’t expect you to become bored. It is so vastly different from the North and there are so many things to explore over there.” Gendry defended the region where he had grown up.”

“Have you been to King’s Landing, Lord Gendry?” She had stopped petting her direwolf and tucked her small hand under his arm again.

“I lived there for a time, but far away from the Red Keep, mind you. I was just a blacksmith’s apprentice then. I can show you the best shops on the street of steel though.” He was enjoying their walk.

“Can Jon come too?” She looked up at him, the excitement brightening her eyes again.

“If he has time, he is always welcome to join me, us. But do not forget that he is King now. He will have to attend even more meetings than Robb.” Gendry cautioned her.

“Can’t he let his Hand handle those? At least while I am visiting? I want him to take me to see the dragons again.” Her small pout was adorable.

“If he doesn’t have time, I am sure his uh, I mean Princess Daenerys can take you to see the dragons.” Gendry prayed he wasn’t being overly optimistic promising this.

Arya made a face. “I don’t know her and she may not like me. Often stuck up ladies pretend not to see me and if they do they just look all haughty and disapproving.”

“Do you really believe Jon would marry a stuck up lady?” Gendry had to stifle a laugh.

Arya’s hopeful eyes looked into Gendry’s. “You believe the Princess is nice?”

“I only met her shortly but I thought she was nice. Besides, Jon told me she wore breeches when she rode with him on Rhaegal, and she has started sword fighting lessons.

“Then she is lucky to have found, Jon. Mother says I will have to stop training when the time comes to find me a husband. Lords don’t want their ladies to fight or wear breeches. If I do not listen I will become an old maid that won’t have anyone left to talk to since everyone my age will have married and have their own families. Would you still visit me I became a lonely old maid?”

“That is still a long way off, Arya. I am sure you will prove your mother wrong. In Dorne or on Bear Island there are female warriors who have found a husband. Perhaps there are other areas as well and we just haven’t heard of them. I for one wouldn’t mind that my wife knew how to fight. That is, if she was willing to put on a dress and make herself pretty and be polite when she had to entertain my family or noble visitors.”

“Then I’ll ask Jon to find me a husband who thinks the same way as you.” She looked at him with her big eyes and he literally saw the thought struck her. “Oh, you could marry me when I have flowered and we can show mother just how wrong she is. It really is a great idea, Gendry. We both wouldn’t have to marry people we don’t like. You and I will just stay very good friends who live together in a castle.”

Gendry shook his head. “Arya, when I marry, I will want more than a friend to come live in my castle. I need a kind woman who is willing to give me heirs.”

Arya’s face fell. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. Never mind then.”

Gendry looked away and wondered where the conversation had gone wrong. He didn’t know what to respond to her last comment. Even if she had recently celebrated her thirteenth nameday, her sheltered upbringing and resistance to all ladylike pursuits had apparently kept her ignorant and very innocent. Still it was endearing.

Meanwhile, Arya seemed to have made up her mind. “When I am an old maid and mother does not allow me to stay in Winterfell any longer, I can always go live with Jon. Perhaps I can teach his children how to wield a sword. Or I can become a sworn shield, just like Lady Brienne.”

Gendry was glad that they had reached the shed where the tailor received his customers. He would do better to choose more neutral topics with Arya in future. The lucky bastard who ended up as her husband would have his hands full with her.

He asked Arya to stay outside and keep Nymeria in check while he picked up his order and paid for it. He was glad that Robb had given him a heavy purse. “Payment from the King for services rendered.” Robb had said and let him read the short paragraph Jon had written Robb on that subject. Gendry had accepted the coins out of necessity. It would be easier to pay the tailor in Winter Town without asking for credit in the name of the King. And it was true that he had worked extremely hard these last few moons even though he had never expected to receive any payment for his services. It would be a novelty to be able to pay for his own clothes instead of just wearing cast offs from others.

Both tailor and customer were very satisfied when Lord Baratheon left the shop. He grew worried when Arya and her direwolf were nowhere to be found. When he asked some passers-by whether they had seen Princess Arya Stark and her wolf they pointed in the direction of the tavern. Gendry cursed to himself and hoped Princess Catelyn of House Stark did not get wind of this. Her youngest daughter in a tavern where he knew from Edric and Loras’ letters that there were always whores present in search of customers. Encumbered by the large packages he carried, he still hurried along as fast as he could and made his way into the building. His eyes readjusting to the dark interior frantically searched for her small form. 

“Gendry! Over here!” he heard her voice call out. 

Gendry looked over to the dark left corner where Nymeria lay before a table that seated three man with black beards and yes, one dark haired Stark Princess. He exhaled deeply and quickly strode over there.

“Arya, this is no place for you. If your mother hears of this.”

“Ladida, they won’t tell on me, besides I am helping them.”

Gendry studied the men more carefully now. They were all rather young. He guessed none of them was older than he was. “Helping them with what exactly?” He tried not to sound too harsh.

“Writing a …” she stopped. “That is their business. I can’t tell you.”

”The Princess is quite safe with us. She just saw me sitting here and was kind enough to offer to pay for the sowing of…” The young man who had spoken up lost his courage and stopped speaking.

Arya sighed. “Mother only paid half price for the tunics his family made for our houseguard. You see his mother is very ill and his younger sister and brother tried to finish the job because they needed the income. Mother of course didn’t approve of their stitching. His sister is only my age and I know her well. I wanted to help out but had no money on me. So I am helping this other way.”

“Arya, what way are you helping them exactly?” He was still worried but since Arya looked no worse for the wear and he saw only some writing materials he tried to stay calm for now and kept his tone friendly.

“The man seated closest to Arya spoke up now. This is not the first time Arya helps us in this manner. None of us ever learned our letters.” He was quick to explain. “But we understand if she has to leave.”

Gendry swallowed and remembered how he wasn’t able to write adequately less than a year ago. He kneeled in front of Arya and quietly enquired, “How much did she cut from the normal price, Arya?” 

Arya’s eyes lit up when she saw him reach for his purse. She whispered the amount in his ear and Gendry put some coins on the table. Then as if it was the most normal thing to do, he gestured for Arya to move aside and seated himself at the table next to her.

Three pair of eyes watched him with growing unease. “My Lord, don’t trouble yourself.” The youth who had picked up the coins stammered.

“Don’t worry,” Arya was beaming from ear to ear now. “He is not some stuck up Lord. He was just legitimized and is my second best friend. He is all right and will keep our secret.” She scribbled a few more sentences and then handed the scroll to the man that sat across from her. “All done. She won’t say no now.”

Gendry watched with growing amazement how the man blushed and quickly tucked the scroll away. Realising Arya was already heading for the door, Nymeria close behind her, he stammered a greeting and quickly hurried after her.

Grabbing her by the arm he admonished her. “Arya, don’t go wandering off by yourself. It is not safe.”

Arya just laughed. “Gendry, I have lived here my entire life. For each man who wants to hurt me, there are ten others that want to defend a Stark with their lives. I am safer here than on the Kingsroad with a group of Stark Houseguards.”

Not really knowing how true that statement actually was, he changed the subject. “My business in Winter Town is done. Did you still have somewhere you wish to go?”

Arya explained that she planned to visit the Bakery so she could drop off some pastries with her former nanny that had retired and lived in a small cottage between the walls of Winterfell. And if Gendry wouldn’t mind, she would like to give Nymeria the opportunity to catch some fish in the pond that was situated on the other side of the small town.

Gendry relieved that she was safely within his custody, didn’t have the heart to refuse her and nodded his assent. The rest of the afternoon they enjoyed each other’s company and Gendry had to point out several times how far west the sun had moved before he was able to persuade her to return home with him.

 

***

 

Lady Catelyn sat in Robb’s study. They were discussing the upcoming journey when the steward entered. 

“Princess Arya has returned and is dressing for dinner, Princess Stark.” 

“Thank you, Poole.” Lady Catelyn sighed and turned to her eldest son. “It will be a trying journey. I am glad we will be travelling by ship for the larger part. At least there she cannot run off.”

“She is not so bad. At least she heeded your rules and was properly escorted. Please Mother, do not treat Arya the same as you do Sansa. Arya will make her way in life even if she travels a different path than you would like. These days, many men can appreciate a female who can handle herself.”

“You don’t understand a mother’s struggles. I will never be able to find a suitable husband willing to put up with her wilful ways.”

Robb suppressed a smile. “Well, she is King Aegon’s favourite little cousin. You can always ask him to secure her a husband if she is still unmarried on her twentieth nameday.”

His mother pursed her lips. “Don’t joke about that. King Aegon has enough power over us as it is. It is your father’s duty to secure an advantageous match for Arya and I will drag her to the heart tree in a nice dress kicking and screaming if necessary.”

Robb thought of his Aunt Lyanna but stayed silent. No use in scaring his mother. Arya was still at an age where she felt abhorrence at the thought of kissing a boy. He distracted his mother by reviewing the travel arrangements one more time. He released a deep breath when she finally left him alone. 

He had just finished dealing with one of the many issues still pending when a discreet knock made him look up. He smiled and called loudly “enter”, certain that this time it was Gendry at the door. 

He startled when the head of his youngest sibling peaked through the doorway. He gestured for Rickon to approach.

“Robb, I don’t wanna go to King’s Landing. Can you order mama to let me stay here with you? I don’t wanna leave Shaggydog.”

 

***

 

Even Princess Catelyn had to acknowledge that the legitimized Lord looked the part and that his manners were all that was proper. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a hardship to travel in his company after all. Aside from being somewhat handsome, he looked capable, strong and eager to protect them. Never mind the houseguards that came along, these men needed to keep their distance. Lord Gendry of House Baratheon would be able to sit close by their side when they needed to leave their cabins on the ship and dine in the same room with the captain and his senior crew members.

Catelyn once more studied the young man who sat opposite her next to Arya. If she was truthful, she had to acknowledge that she was warming up to him. Due to this young man she had not worried so much when she had hugged her eldest son and said her goodbyes. Robb looked happy and healthier than he had in a long time. She had nodded when Robb had assured her it would all work out. This time she had believed him. She had even followed her eldest son’s advice and had left Rickon behind. 

Both her daughters were engaging the new Lord in quiet conversation as the carriage rocked slightly while it made its way over the Kingsroad to White Harbour. By the end of the sennight, even her eldest daughter had developed a cordial relationship with the heir to the Stormlands. Also she had to credit young Lord to have accomplished an impossible feat. He had succeeded in getting Arya to stop sulking and accept that it would be better for all parties to leave Nymeria behind. So Catelyn would do as her eldest son had advised and let things be for now. No decisions needed to be made until Ned could get the measure of Lord Gendry of House Baratheon. 

Catelyn already looked forward to the sea voyage. It had been a long time since she had been on a ship. And this time she would travel in style. In his letter, King Aegon had promised her she would be escorted to King’s Landing by a royal fleet of five of his best ships. He had personally given all the orders to be absolutely sure that his closest female kin arrived safely and swiftly by his side. In the midst of a daydream of her grand entrance at the royal court, she dozed off while the carriage continued its way towards White Harbour.

 

 

**Interlude 38: What happens in Dorne, stays in Dorne**

 

Nymeria looked at the sky a worried frown on her face. Another day had gone by without a message from her father, Prince Oberyn. That was really strange. A messenger from Starfall had come down to bring them the tidings of the new Targaryen King. Apparently all the Lords Paramount had received official word. House Dayne had received the news from Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning. Once more Ser Arthur was openly the pride of their house again. The tale of how the famous Kingsguard had protected the True King since his birth was spreading across Dorne like wildfire. House Dayne had more than regained its previous status. According to several sources Lady Ashara was the only Lady on intimate footing with the Targaryen Princess who would soon become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Nymeria looked over to Arianne who had joined her on the balcony. “No ravens have come for Prince Doran either?” 

“None.” Her cousin confirmed. “My father suspects that there is foul play involved. He has sent out messengers to all parts of Dorne and I am here to ask if one of his nieces would want to make herself useful and travel to King’s Landing to warn Prince Oberyn that our messages are probably being intercepted by someone who wants to isolate us.”

“If that is true and none of Prince Doran’s scrolls reached the King either, then King Aegon might think that we do not accept his claim and that we are in open rebellion.” Nymaria’s frown grew more pronounced. “I’d volunteer to go but Father ordered me to stay here until my mission has been completed. “

“Father signed the decree, didn’t he? Wasn’t that your purpose in coming here?”

“Yes, but also to help you in case he doesn’t want to swear fealty to the new King. He wanted me to guard and protect you in case you needed to seize power immediately.” 

“But Father has agreed to acknowledge King Aegon, be it grudgingly.”

“I have not heard him pronounce the words. It was implied but I heard rumours that he is playing both sides.” Nymeria saw that her words startled her trueborn cousin.

“An alliance with Stannis Baratheon? That is unthinkable’” Arianne exclaimed horrified.

“There is mention of Euron Greyjoy as well.” Nymeria stayed calm. She did not believe any of these vile rumours and was trying to determine the source of them. She had sent out several loyal men to get to the bottom of this.

Princess Arianne pursed her lips. “That is preposterous. Rumours can be falsified as you should be the first to acknowledge. You better convince one of your siblings to hurry to the capital. I will see to it that my father formulates a watertight message that he supports the reign of King Aegon. We must get that document to King’s Landing sooner rather than later.”

“I will do better than that. I will get word to one of Varys’ birds. I discovered one near the border of the Stormlands. That way they will get word that we have been cut off and are not ignoring the King’s demand for fealty. But your father is wrong in sending only a bastard to the new King. He should send a delegation of trueborn nobles.”

“And he will, but such things take time. Besides, Uncle Oberyn is his closest relative and belongs to the King’s closest circle. Uncle can read Father’s pledge out loud before the Court if need be. And from what you told me of the new King, he will receive your sister with the utmost courtesy.”

“The King will. But the Court might get the wrong message and will think Prince Doran is showing his contempt by sending a mere bastard. Your priority is to make sure that Uncle Doran drafts that message without delay. Convince him that it is no use to wait for a raven form King’s Landing. I’ll be relieved when uncle puts his allegiance on paper and erases all doubts.” 

The Dornish Princess nodded. “Tell me, the new King, what is he like? I heard you met him.”

“Twice. I met him twice. Only briefly at Greywater Watch but later we spend a little time together at Castle Black.”

“And?”

Nymeria sighed. “Even though he looks like a Northerner and mostly acts like one he is exceedingly handsome. I am inclined to call him charming in a shy kind of way. He is also very skilled with his sword. I heard he bested Ser Arthur in single combat and that he often takes on several skilled fighters at once and comes out on top.” 

“Your every wet dream then?” Arianne smiled knowingly.

“Not entirely. He is too modest, too honest and doesn’t indulge in flirting. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t a ladies man, if you know what I mean.”

“Now that is just your jealousy talking. Ser Arthur claims he is besotted with the Princess and she with him.”

Nymeria swallowed. “Perhaps. I will keep my counsel until I see the both of them interact.”

“Fair enough.” Princess Arianne said absently her thoughts already back to the problem at hand.  
“Now if you have any advice on how to handle my father…”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter covers day nine of King Aegon's reign. The interlude once more takes place in the North. We follow Renly Baratheon and Stokeworth on the way to White Harbour to meet up with Loras Tyrell.  
> I'd love to hear what my readers' thoughts are on Gendry & Robb and Gendry & Arya's interactions. So if you have the time, please leave a comment and let me know.


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